Page 10 of No Escape

ChapterThree

Saylor

Being left in a bare room with only an interrogation desk—that my hands are handcuffed to—is not the highlight of my year.

Time ticks away so slowly that I have what feels like hours to think through all the mistakes I’ve made.

Resting my head against the edge of the cool table, I wonder if my dad has received a ransom call yet.

If nothing else, my team will have noticed I’m missing.

Shadow Security will have dispatched multiple teams to the Netherlands, but I have no way of knowing where they took me during the car and plane rides that I have vague memories of.

A shiver runs down my spine, and not from the frigid temperature in the small room. Being unconscious while around strangers is the most unsettling part.

Now that I’m not so foggy and confused, my brain obsesses about who changed my clothing. I squirm around in the uncomfortable chair, trying to determine if I’m sore.

If they sexually assaulted me, I’d be able to tell, right?

The thought makes my stomach churn as tears burn in my eyes.

I’ve been so stupid, it’s hard to fathom.

I’mluckyto have security, but I’ve complained about them nonstop, even gone so far as to purposely lie about what I planned to do just to get a break.

Having two military-trained alphas constantly following me around has not done wonders for my dating life.

I just wanted a chance to live like a normal person for one night.

That backfired so epically…

I don’t even fight the tears that fall.

Once my mom died, I lost all attachment to religion, but I struggle against the handcuffs, lay my head on the table, and pray.

* * *

I’ve been trapped in here for so long that I’ve gone through all the stages of grief, then circled back to start all over again.

The silence of the empty room was killing me, but those thoughts disappear as two men come into the room and sit across from me at the table.

My bladder is somehow full again, even without being offered any fluids, and I’m dangerously close to having an accident. Not just because the looks on their faces are terrifying, either. There are limits to how much the human body can handle, and I’m one jump scare away from sitting in a puddle.

They speak amongst themselves in the same language as the man who brought me to this room.

Now that I’m a little more coherent, I think it might be German.

Possibly.

I’m really regretting only taking Spanish in high school. Clearly, I should have taken every language available at my private school, and there were quite a few options.

“If it’s money you want, my father will pay you,” I say, clearing my scratchy throat. “I have a phone number you can call.”

The man on the right has a puckered scar that cuts across his cheek and dips into his upper lip. He sneers, saying something to the other man while nodding at me.

If I survive this mess, I’ll never try to get away from my security team again.

Hell, I’ll wake them up when I want to run to the cafeteria across campus.

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