Cold fear swamped her, as if a cascade of icy rain had drenched her neck and slid under her clothes down her back.
Her breath left her in a whoosh. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t draw in air. Couldn’t scream.
Was this a looter? But why would they be here and not up at the site? Plus, looters only turned violent when confronted—yet this person was confronting her, not the other way around.
A hand snaked around her side, pulling her back against a hard body. From the size and feel, she guessed it was a man. He dragged her backward, up the stone steps. She released her muscles, becoming an instant deadweight, but the man didn’t falter. His grip merely tightened. When he reached the top, he swung her around and tripped her. She landed face-first in the wet peat that capped the lawn. She finally regained breath and voice and screamed in pain and panic.
Instinct told her to protect her belly, but her arms were yanked behind her. Her stomach was still flat, at least, the fetus too small to be harmed by this violence. She bucked as he grappled with her hands and pinned her down with a knee on her back. She screamed for help, but it was useless. There was no one around for miles.
Metal cuffs even colder than her chilled skin cinched her wrists together. The man couldn’t be a law enforcement ranger. She knew them all and knew which ones were on duty right now. Jae was closest. Anyone not in law enforcement who carried around handcuffs must’ve planned this.
Am I being abducted?
Since when do looters abduct people?
Panic swamped her. She needed to escape. She tried to get leverage with her knees, to throw him off, but he was too strong. Too heavy. “Why are you doing this?” she choked out.
Hands ran down her body, checking pockets.
She could barely breathe. “Are you a looter?” she rasped in a low, breathless voice.
The man above her froze, hands stopping mid-pat down. “What?”
“Why are you doing this?” she repeated.
The man placed a hand on her shoulder and flipped her to her back. She lay there, her arms trapped beneath her, digging into her spine.
He straddled her with his gun pointed to the clouds. He wore a military combat uniform, which included a tactical vest and helmet with night vision goggles mounted to the crown. His face was coated in forest-colored paint. But his eyes weren’t hidden or disguised.
Tears and panic ceased, replaced by shock. It was like the wind had been knocked out of her. Again, she couldn’t speak or breathe.
She was staring into the eyes of Xavier Rivera, the father of her unborn child.