Page 1 of Pounded in the Patch
CHAPTER 1
TAKEN
Seraphina
The rope burns against my wrists as consciousness creeps back in like a thief in the night, stealing away the merciful darkness that had been my refuge.
My eyes flutter open to beams of moonlight trickling in through a window above my head. The world sways beneath me with a bumpy motion that makes my stomach lurch violently—I'm in a moving vehicle. The back seat, I realize with growing horror, based on the black leather pressed against my cheek and the way my knees are bent at an awkward, painful angle that suggests I've been unconscious for quite some time.
What the fuck is happening?
Panic and bile rise in my throat as I try to move my arms, only to feel thick rope binding my wrists behind my back. The coarse fibers dig into my skin with every slight movement, sending sharp stings up my forearms that make me bite back a whimper. My ankles are tied too, I realize with mounting terror, as Iattempt to straighten my legs and feel more rope cutting into the skin above my boots.
This can't be real. Thiscannotbe real.
The steady rumble of the engine fills my ears, a monotonous drone that almost seems to vibrate through my bones. Mixed with it is the sound of tires on gravel—we're moving fast. My heart is racing so quickly I can feel my pulse pounding, each beat echoing through my ears like a war drum.
Think, Seraphina. Think. What's the last thing you remember?
I force myself to focus, to push past the panic and try to piece together how the fuck I ended up here. Memory comes in fragments, disjointed and hazy like trying to remember a dream.
I remember leaving work. The accounting firm's office building, with its millennial gray walls and fluorescent lighting that always makes everything look slightly sickly. I remember stepping outside into the autumn evening air, crisp and clean with that distinctive October bite. The scent of fallen leaves had filled my nostrils, mixed with the exhaust from evening traffic and something else…
I remember being excited about something. The weekend, maybe? I had plans, I think. Something I was looking forward to. But what?
Come on. Focus.
I was walking to my car in the parking garage. The click of my heels on the concrete, the way the sound echoed off the walls... I was reaching for my keys, digging through my purse with one hand while balancing my laptop bag and the stack of files I’m supposed to review over the weekend.
And then... nothing.
Nothing.
A complete blank, like someone has taken an eraser to my memory and wiped away everything that came after. The thought makes my skin crawl with unease.
How long have I been unconscious? Where am I?Whois driving this car?
The questions multiply in my mind, each one spawning new terrors. I try to slow my breathing, to think logically right now, but it's nearly impossible when every rational thought is drowned out by the screaming voice in my head that keeps repeatingkidnapped, kidnapped, kidnapped.
The leather seat is cold against my cheek, and I can smell something that definitely doesn't belong to me—cologne. Expensive cologne with notes of cedar and smoke and musk. It's not unpleasant, exactly, but it's foreign.Unknown. The scent of a stranger.
My chest tightens, and I force myself to remain still. I don’t want them to know I’m awake yet.
Someone took me. Someone actually took me and tied me up like I'm some kind of animal. This can't be real. Things like this don't happen to people like me. I work in accounting, for fuck's sake. I spend my play money on books and paymostof my bills on time… And I rarely stay up past midnight on weeknights. I don't have enemies. I don't owe money to dangerous people. I don't live a life that should get me bound in the back seat of a stranger’s car.
Why me? Why the fuck is this happening tomeof all people?
The questions keep coming, providing no answers, only more fear.
My head is pounding—whether from whatever was used to knock me out or from the stress I’m feeling right now, I can't tell. It’s probably both. My mouth feels cotton-dry, and there's a metallic taste on my tongue that might be blood. My body aches like I've been in this position for hours, muscles stiff and protesting every small movement.
Stay calm. You have to stay calm and think your way out of this.
But it's almost impossible to stay calm when every instinct I have is screaming at me to fight, torun, to do anything except lie here helplessly while being driven to who knows where for who knows what purpose.
I try to slow my breathing, counting in and out the way I learned in a yoga class I took last summer.In for four, hold for four, out for four.But it comes in sharp, shallow gasps that make my chest burn and my vision blur around the edges. I’m being too loud, which makes me panic even more.
I need to focus on what Icancontrol right now.
