I jolt awake and instinctively try to crawl away from a bang somewhere close to me. I can’t see a damn thing thanks to whatever they pulled over my head when they snatched me.
My heart races and my hands tremble behind my back as deep male voices filter through the side of the van.
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” I whimper.
I have no idea where I am, who took me—although I can hazard a guess to that one—or what they want with me.
I just have to keep banking on my phone still being in my pocket and still being on.
They’ll come for me, I know they will.
There’s another bang that forces my heart into my throat and sends a tremor of fear rocking through me, turning my blood to ice.
A door slides open and light finally filters through the bag over my head, although it’s not enough to allow me to see anything but the fabric in front of my face.
My skin prickles, aware that whoever is standing there is watching me closely before the van dips with their weight and I’m dragged across the floor and lifted out.
The fight I was missing when they first grabbed me emerges and I kick and scream, doing anything I can to hurt someone, to attract some attention.
My foot collides with something hard before a deep, terrifying voice grunts something I don’t understand.
“Figlio di puttana.”
I gasp as confirmation of who’s taken me sounds out loudly around me.
“Get the hell off me,” I scream, continuing to thrash about.
“Enough,” an accented voice booms before I’m hauled to my feet and shoved forward.
The scent of the ocean hits me and when I focus, the sound of seagulls squawking in the distance makes my brow crease.
If I had to guess where they’d bring me, then I’d have said some dark and dirty warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Not the bloody beach.
But then I guess I don’t really know how the men around me operate, seeing as I’ve spent my life shielded from this part of reality, let alone those of our enemies.
Nothing is said as I’m led… somewhere.
The grip on my arms is tight once more, fingertips digging into the sore spots from behind.
Anger burns red-hot in my belly, but what the hell am I meant to do about it? Without my arms, my sight, I’m pretty fucking useless.
So I continue to allow them to push me forward and hope that I’m able to figure out another way out of this once I’m put wherever they want me.
I think of Dad, of Nico, Theo, Daemon. They’ll freak out the second they realise I’ve gone and they’ll raise hell to get me back, I know they will.
Chances are that I’ll be back in my basement by sunset like this never happened.
I hope.
I stumble through a doorway before the light dims and the sound of the crashing waves and gulls lessens until I’m released into a room, whatever is binding my wrists is removed, and a door slams behind me, a lock engaging not a second later.
In a rush, I reach for the bag over my head and pull it free.
I blink a couple of times as my vision clears, not believing what I'm seeing.
I’m in a bedroom. A really nice bedroom.
“What the hell?” I whisper, taking in the huge, low bed covered in pristine white sheets. All the furniture is whitewashed wood, there are shelves with trinkets on, and a couple of ornaments.