Page 107 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

His voice is pure male dominance. "Get into the black vehicle outside, Elle. Scream and I shoot you."

I suck in air through my teeth.

He called me Elle. Not Londyn.

Elle.

My body forgets how to function and my mind goes blank. I lose awareness of everything around me except the pressure of a gun barrel against my ribs. The weapon is concealed beneath his jacket, pressed firmly enough that I can feel its shape. The oxygen in my lungs feels borrowed as I exhale tiny, frightened puffs. And my heart thumps painfully, like it knows it's trapped and has given up fighting.

The elevator slows and descends into what feels like molasses. Time stretches, pulling apart in strange, uneven segments. Thesoft ping announcing our arrival echoes in my skull, too loud and too far away.

Should I run?

No, he'll shoot me. I just know he will.

The doors open with excruciating slowness, revealing the lobby in bright snapshots: the security desk to the left, the glass entrance doors straight ahead, the polished floor reflecting fluorescent lights in abstract patterns.

Josh. Josh from accounting with his nerdy ties and his green coffee mug that reads "Calm You Shall Keep And Carry On You Must." Josh, who asks about my weekend and complains about the broken vending machine. Josh, who apparently knows my stage name.

How did he slip so completely under my radar?

But Sean and Mike are outside. They'll notice something is wrong. They'll help me. They have to.

They'll stop this.

But what if they don't? What if they're looking the other way, scanning for other threats while I'm being led away at gunpoint?

I try to slip my hand into my purse to get my phone and use the panic button, or at least grab my taser, but Josh grips myelbow, his fingers digging into my skin. The gun remains pressed against my side, hidden from view by his jacket.

"Smile," he hisses. "Look normal."

My face must be failing to comply because his fingers tighten, twisting the skin of my arm. We pass the security desk, and I try to catch the guard's eye, willing him to look up, to notice the terror that must be radiating from me in waves. But he's absorbed in his phone.

"Have a nice day," he mumbles as we pass, not even glancing up.

No!

The glass doors loom ahead. Once we're outside, anything could happen. My mind races through possibilities as Josh propels me forward. If I scream now, will the gun go off? Will the bullet tear through my side before anyone can react? Will Sean get to me in time, or will he just find my body sprawled across the polished lobby floor, bleeding out?

I think, oddly, that Sean would probably kill Josh if that happened. He'd murder my kidnapper in public without hesitation. But I'd be dead. I'd miss the satisfaction of watching that.

My brain is spiraling, mixing dark humor with even darker panic.

The glass lobby doors slide open and suddenly we're outside. The sidewalk doesn't have the normal crowds, just like I expected, but there are groups of people milling around. They're all heading home, heading to dinner, heading somewhere that isn't here, where I'm being forced toward a black sedan parked at the curb.

My eyes dart around frantically, searching for a flash of blue hair in the night or Mike's solid frame. Any sign that my protection is nearby. The groups of people seem to move in triple slow motion, bodies inching along like caterpillars, none of them noticing that I'm being abducted in plain sight.

Please let someone notice. Please.

I can't find any blue hair, which makes me wonder if Sean can even see me. But he and Mike are like ghosts sometimes. They have to be watching from somewhere.

Where are they?

Josh opens the back door of the sedan and shoves me inside, closing it quickly behind me.

As I'm adjusting to this leathery confined space, I realize someone is next to me. I glance over.

And then my reality implodes.

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