I tried to turn, tried to see who the hell had touched me—but the panic hit so fast, so violently, that my vision smeared to black before my eyes even finished moving. My knees buckled. The floor rushed up.
Everything went dark.
Then light.
Then dark again.
My eyelids fluttered uncontrollably as consciousness slipped in and out. I felt cold air hit my face, then asphalt under me, then rough hands gripping my arms. I heard cars whooshing by—normal people living their normal lives—while I was dragged like a sack of trash.
Something scraped across my back. The sound of a door sliding open. Metal. Hollow. Echoing.
My head smacked the floor of the van.
Darkness swallowed me again.
When I came to, I felt the entire world lurch forward. My body slammed against the wall of the moving van as it sped over a bump. My heart rammed against my ribs. My wrists burned—tied behind me so tight it felt like my hands were going numb.
A gag was strapped over my mouth, digging into the corners of my lips. I tasted cloth and salt from my own tears.
I kicked. Hard. My heel hit metal. Again. Again. I tried to scream but the gag muffled everything, turning it into a pathetic choked sob.
That's when I heard her.
"Shhhh... shhhh... baby boy, stop that," A woman uttered, her voice low and sickeningly sweet, right next to my ear. "You'll hurt yourself."
I cried harder, shaking my head violently, trying to pull away from her touch. The van's interior was dim, but I could see enough—her silhouette leaning over me, her breath hot on my cheek.
"Aw, look at you..." she cooed. "You cry so easily. You always do."
I tried to shout help, or let me go, or anything—anything—but it came out as a strangled sob.
The van swerved, tossing me sideways. The ropes dug deeper into my skin. My chest tightened so hard I felt like I couldn't breathe through my nose anymore.
"I told you I'd get you someday," she whispered, her fingers dragging through my hair with a twisted affection that made bile rise in my throat. "Remember all those messages? I keep my promises."
I squeezed my eyes shut, sobbing into the gag. I was helpless. Completely, utterly helpless—and she was enjoying every second.
"Don't worry, baby," she murmured, as if comforting a child. "We're almost there."
The van slowed.
Doors clanged.
And fear knifed through me so sharply it made me tremble.
A door slammed shut somewhere in front of us, and a cold gust swept into the back of the van as the doors opened. I shivered instantly—not from the air, but from the dread settling deep in my bones.
Before I could even twist away, two thick arms hooked under me. Hard muscle. A grip I couldn't break even if I were twice as strong. My body lifted off the metal floor like I weighed nothing.
Two sets of footsteps thudded against concrete, then wood.
I cried so hard it hurt. The sound vibrating in my head, soaking the gag and blindfold that had just been placed on me seconds ago, my chest trembling with every broken breath. I couldn't think. Couldn't form a single complete thought. Everything was terror. Pure, choking terror.
I tried to kick—even with my legs bound, I kicked at the air, at her, at anything—but her grip tightened like a vise around my torso.
"Easy now," the woman holding me muttered, annoyed. "He's squirmy."
"Spoiled brat always was," another voice replied, followed by a short laugh. "Dump him in my bed and tie him down. I'll grab your payment."
That voice.
My stomach dropped so fast it made me dizzy. I knew that voice. I couldn't place it through the panic, but I knew it. It crawled under my skin like a memory I didn't want to remember.
"No, no, no—" I tried to scream, but it came out as a strangled, muffled sob.
We entered a house. I heard the shift in sound, the way footsteps echoed differently over hardwood. The smell changed too—cologne, something artificial and sweet, mixed with dust and stale air.
The woman carrying me wasn't careful.
My head smacked the doorway with a dull thud. Stars exploded behind my eyes. A muffled groan pushed past the gag as tears burst fresh and hot.
"Oops," she muttered flatly.
She dumped me onto a mattress—rough sheets, cold fabric. I twisted, tried to roll, tried to inch away, but her hands were already on me. One held my chest down. Another grabbed my leg.
"Stop moving," she snapped as if this were some inconvenience—like I wasn't terrified out of my mind.
Thick straps—leather? Fabric?—wrapped around my wrists. I screamed into the gag, thrashing so wildly the bed frame creaked. It didn't matter. They were too strong. Too calm. Too practiced.
One wrist was pinned up above me. Then the other.
My ankles were pulled apart next, strapped down wide. My limbs stretched into an X across the bed, every muscle pulled tight.
I was trembling so violently the mattress shook beneath me.
"There," the woman said, brushing her hands off like she'd just finished tying down a package. "Nice and secure."
Footsteps retreated toward the door.
"The money's on the table. Grab it and disappear—you don't know me, you've never seen me."
Her voice echoed sharply through the room, clipped and flat like she'd rehearsed it a hundred times.
"This never happened either," the second woman added—her breath warm against the air, the words almost mocking.
Then—Footsteps. A door opening. Cold air sweeping in. A slam.
And suddenly... silence.
No more footsteps.
No more voices.
Just my breath—ragged, choking, trembling—against the gag.
I screamed. I screamed so hard my throat burned raw behind the cloth.
My feet strained uselessly against the restraints.
I begged—muffled nonsense through tears.
I cried for Elara. For Bella. Pleaded for them to come.
Begged the universe that they weren't hurt—weren't dead. My chest ached from how violently I sobbed, panic collapsing in on itself like a black hole.
Then—
A calm, steady voice. Almost too calm.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I promise..."
No. No.
Nothing about this was okay. But she said it like she was soothing a frightened child, like she genuinely believed every word.
Fingers brushed against my cheek, slow and deliberate. Then they slid up, finding the knot at my temple. The blindfold loosened.
Fabric peeled back.
Light stabbed my eyes.
And when my vision finally focused—my heart stopped.
Her.
The woman from the bus. The deranged stranger with the too-wide smile, the one who'd stared at me like she owned me before I ever spoke a word.
The same woman I'd shocked with my taser in a moment of pure panic.
Her hair—black streaked with iron-grey—fell like a curtain around her face, messy but intentional, framing sharp cheekbones and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Those eyes... familiar, but wrong. Too bright. Too hungry. Too delighted.
"Hey, Noah." She tilted her head, smiling as if we'd run into each other at a grocery store. "Been a while, don't you think?"
I couldn't look at her. I turned my face to the side, squeezing my eyes shut tight, tears leaking down my cheeks and into the pillow under my head.
She leaned in anyway.
"If only you didn't reject me..." she breathed.
Her hair brushed my face—silky and cold.
A strand stuck to the dampness on my cheek.
Then her lips touched my forehead—soft, deliberate. She held them there too long.
Way too long.
And then—slowly, almost tenderly—her tongue traced the spot she'd kissed, like she was tasting the salt of my tears.
I flinched so hard the bedframe creaked beneath me.
"Oh, sweetheart..." she whispered, her fingers sliding along my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip through the gag.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this."