Page 2 of Call It What You Want
Shit.
No one says anything. And that deafening silence is more terrifying than if they’d started yelling threats. At least then, I’d know what I was dealing with.
But this heavy silence feels…calculated. Like, I’m not just some random girl they pulled into their SUV. Somehow, I know with a sickening certainty that they’ve been watching me. They’ve planned this.
“What the fuck do you want?” I scream at the top of my lungs, which is even more amplified in the confined space. My ears ring from the piercing sound of my own voice.
But, by now, panic has been replaced with rage.
Fuck these fucking cunts.
My purse is gaping open, and I reach into it to grab my keys. Attached is a keychain in the shape of a cat’s head that’s designed for self-defense—the ears form two sharp jabby points. I thread my fingers through the eye holes and lunge at the guy next to me with everything I have.
He reaches out and catches me by the throat, stopping me before I’m even close to making contact. With a grunt, I jab the sharp cat ears into his arm as hard as I possibly can.
“Fuck,” he hisses, releasing me.
I use that small distraction to lash out again, attacking the guy, slashing at him with my cat ears. It’s a pretty sad weapon, but it’s something, at least, and fuck if I’m going to let them take me without a fight.
Somewhere in the chaos, the guy in the passenger seat hands something to the guy I’m attacking. In the darkness, I only see a flash of movement before I feel the sharp sting of a needle sink into my arm. With a gasp, I reel back.
“What was that…?” I scream, my hand pressed to my arm. But in literal seconds, my question is answered. My tongue feels thick, my mouth dry, and a wave of dizziness washes over me.
The motherfucker drugged me.
I don’t even remember passing out, but when I blink my eyes open, I’m no longer in the car. It’s that quick, that disorienting.
What the fuck?
I jolt upright. The first thing I notice is that I’m still fully clothed (thank God), lying in a large bed, and the room is dark, but I can see a sliver of light peeking out from behind the curtains. Is it daytime? Where am I?
All I can see is a nightstand next to me, the shadow of a fireplace, and an armoire several feet away. I’m in a bedroom.
Okay, now panic hits me. My heart kicks into overdrive as I try to roll off the bed, but as my body lurches forward, my arm is caught and I’m yanked back. Wait, hold up. I’mhandcuffedto the bedframe.
Holy shit.
This just went from really bad to Dateline-episode-worse.
What am I going to do? Scream? Will that alert them that I’m awake, though? Maybe I can try to pry my wrist free somehow? My mind is working a mile a minute, my breathing is so fast and so shallow that I’m starting to feel dizzy.
Calm down. Ava. Think.
If I want to survive this, first I have to figure out what the fuck is happening, and fast. The only thing that makes sense is that I’ve been taken by sex traffickers. Why else would three guys kidnap me from an empty parking lot, drug me, then chain me to some random four-poster bed? My IUD can keep me from getting pregnant, but there’s no protection against the kind of damage this leaves behind.
A fresh wave of panic pumps through my veins, and I tug on the handcuff so hard that the entire headboard moves. If I can just break the wood somehow, then I might be able to free myself…
Out of nowhere, a deep male voice slithers through the darkness. “That headboard is solid wood. You won’t break it.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I slam my back against said headboard. Where the fuck did he come from? I didn’t realize anyone was in here with me, and the fact that he’s been standing there, watching me, makes me feel dirty. Vulnerable.
The voice came from the foot of the bed, so that’s where I’m looking. But as much as I strain, I can’t see anything in the murky darkness, which is creepy as fuck.
“Who are you?” I ask, like he’s going to fucking tell me, but it’s a knee-jerk reaction to ask.
His answering chuckle slithers up my spine, but, of course, he doesn’t answer. Then the ceiling light clicks on, and the room is flooded with bright white light. My eyes struggle to adjust, but when they do, I’m shaken by what I see.
Jackson McKnight.
