Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
He nods once before letting out a harsh laugh and turning back toward the house. “Kane!”
A door opens. Footsteps. Kane appears in the doorway with a towel around his neck.
“What’s up?”
“Get the Suburban ready,” Cal says.
Kane’s gaze flicks to me, and I swear it looks like he’s fighting a smile. “Where are we going, bro?”
I swallow. “Kylie’s.”
“And when we get there?”
I don’t dress it up. “I don’t give her a choice.”
The words taste like blood, but the smile Kane was fighting is now front and center on his face.
“Let’s do it!”
No hesitancy. No questioning. Just full acceptance that what we’re about to do will change everything.
I’ll be a kidnapper.
It sounds preposterous, but in less than an hour, it’ll be reality.
And there’s no going back from that.
Kylie
A loud bang jerks me awake. I sit up straight on the couch and fight to find my bearings. The sun is already up, shining through the light fog in the living room side window, and the red numbers on the microwave blare a new day in the kitchen.
I’m confused and weary, but when another bang sounds from outside on the street, I move on sheer instinct alone.
Shit! The freaking garbage! I must’ve forgotten again!
Bolting off the couch, I race toward the garage door on shaky legs and adrenaline. Unlocking it brusquely, I lean out and hit the clicker for the overhead door and take the steps down to the concrete three at a time.
Cold air hits my face as the garage door rises, and I time my exit, skittering under the door with just enough clearance to hit the driveway at a run.
But my feet skid to a stop when I come face-to-face with two men in dark suits walking toward me. There’s no garbage truck. No Rook. Just a blacked-out Escalade sitting in my driveway, idling in place.
That’s when it hits me—it’s not Tuesday. It’s Friday.
And I don’t know these men at all.
“Kylie Moon?” the taller of the two calls out. His voice is calm and neutral, like he’s a teacher taking attendance.
Every hair on my body stands up.
The men close the distance between us quickly, though they’re still standing a good twenty feet from me when they come to a stop.
They look too put together for this to be random, but they don’t look official in any sense of the word I’ve ever known. They’re not in police uniforms. They don’t have badges. If anything, they’re dressed in fancy suits I’m more likely to see in an advertisement for Dior than at the department store at the Concordia Mall.
“W-who are you?” My voice is thin, and my hands shake as an overwhelming sense of fear consumes my nerves.
“We’re here to bring you somewhere safe,” the tall man says, his voice still eerily calm. “There’s been a concern.”
“A concern?” My stomach falls to my feet. “What? Who are you? What are you talking about?”
The other man, the shorter of the two, with eyes so light they seem almost translucent in the sun, takes steps closer to me. “Just come with us, and we’ll get everything straightened out.”
His palms are out and his shoulders are relaxed. His posture isn’t threatening, but he removes ten feet of distance between us with his strides. “I can assure you, it’s for your safety.”
When I don’t respond or make any moves to walk toward them, he frowns.
“There’s no need to make this difficult. Just come with us.”
“I don’t know who you are.” My throat tightens. “I—I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The taller man gives a small sigh like I’m inconveniencing him.
“I understand you’re confused,” he says. “But you need to come with us now. It’s very important.”
“No.” My head is already shaking back and forth, like my body is responding before my brain can. “I think you need to get off my property.” I take a step back toward my garage. The concrete is ice-cold under my bare feet, but my brain barely registers it.
A third man appears from the passenger side of the Escalade. He’s taller and broader than the two guys standing in front of me and moving with determined steps. “There’s no need to worry. We’re going to keep you safe.”
His words should be reassuring, but they only make my pulse hit Olympian-sprinter-level speeds.
“You need to leave.”
“Listen,” the man with the light eyes says. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”
My mouth goes dry. “I’m calling the police.”
He doesn’t react to that threat—none of them does—and that’s the most terrifying part.
Every instinct in my body tells me to run.
I fumble to get back into the garage, feet slipping as I try to move as quick as I can, but before I can get beneath the door, a hand clamps over my wrist and yanks me back a few feet.