Page 12 of The Unseen

She heads back up the stairs cautiously, returning with an ice pack she holds against her forehead. She winces every now and then, and when she pulls it back, I notice a little red bruising starting to show now the swelling has subsided.

“Your shoulder got hit as well. The medicine ball hit there first.”

She touches her shoulder and sighs. “I thought it was sore. Figured I’d overdone my workout yesterday.”

She places the ice pack on her shoulder for a change and then crosses one leg over the other, leaning back into the chair, her eyes closing for a moment.

I’m slightly concerned she has a concussion, and I’drather not be stuck down here if she gets into trouble while she’s asleep.

“Why don’t you tell me why I’m here?” I suggest, hoping this will keep her awake and lucid.

“Hmm. How about I tell you what I know about you and if I get something wrong, you let me know.”

“This would be more fun with alcohol.” I laugh.

She points to her head. “Head injury.”

I point to my mouth. “Chloroformed.”

She laughs. “Touché.”

I tilt my head, assessing her, and realize I could use this to my advantage. “How about if you get one wrong, I get to ask you a question and you have to reply honestly.”

She bites her plump, pink lip before turning back to me.

“Deal.”

“After you.” I bow a little, which causes her cheeks to pinken.

She steadies herself before taking a deep breath. “Your name is Austin Black.”

“Correct. I’m so glad you’ve abducted the correct person.”

She ignores my sarcasm. “You’re the head of The Unseen.”

I pause, not confirming or denying. “Not many people have heard of The Unseen.”

“Incorrect. Not many people haveseenThe Unseen. You shouldn’t be surprised that plenty of people have heard of it.”

I click my tongue, annoyed that she’s right. My reputation precedes me whether I want it to reach civilians like Olivia or not. That’s not within the bounds of my control.

She’s dropped that bombshell pretty quickly, obviously wanting to get this show on the road. I suppose it’s my turn to share some truths.

“Your name is Olivia Daniels.”

“Y . . . yes,” she replies, eyes widening.

"You’re a fitness blogger with a following of 400,000subscribers.”

“Technically I’m a vlogger with a V, old man,” she says. “But wait, how do you know my name?”

I shrug, brushing off the “old man” comment despite the sting it leaves. “It’s my job to know things.”

“Did you know I was going to kidnap you?”

An odd question, but somehow, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d googled the best ways to knock someone out without permanently injuring them.

“I hadn’t expected you to smile at me that morning, let alone talk to me. So no, I didn’t expect to be abducted either.”

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