Page 35 of Gilded Princess

“Keep walking and nobody gets hurt,” an unfamiliar voice threatens in my ear.

My body flushes with terror, an overwhelming warmth that has me still longer than this attacker would like. He prods me with the cold metal against my back, and I’ve watched enough movies to let my imagination fill in the blanks.

It’s a gun.

Some psycho is holding me at gunpoint outside the café, where I’m set to meet my sister and cousin in ten minutes.

Oh my god. Lainey and Mary are going to be here any minute! I don’t know what to do. My mind spins too fast to latch onto any feasible ideas—not one where I don’t get shot, at least.

“Let’s go, bitch, or I’m going to paint the sidewalk with your brains,” he spits the words out between clenched teeth. His sour breath overwhelms me, and I hold back a gag.

My fight or flight instinct kicks in, making the decision for me, and I will my body to move. I take a step forward, then two, and even though it feels like my body is made of rigid, wooden pieces, I walk.

“Turn right.” His voice is low in my ear, terror pricking my nerve endings. Once we’re around the corner from the cafe, I breathe a little easier. At least I got him away from Lainey and Mary. That’s the important part.

They can’t play the hero card, which is totally something Lainey would do. Okay, just focus. I need a plan to get away.

The relief is short-lived as panic unlike anything I’ve ever felt floods my body. A blacked-out utility van is double-parked in front of an alleyway, and I know in my gut that this is where he’s herding me.

I know enough about kidnapping from movies and documentaries that if I get in that van with him, I’m as good as dead.

No. No.

This can’t be how it ends for me. In the back of some dirty utility van in a forgotten alleyway that reeks of rotting garbage?

I don’t fucking think so.

“Help! Hey, please help me!” I shout at the group of kids closest to me.

The guy tightens his grip on my arm and digs the gun into my back hard enough to break the skin. “Don’t talk, or I kill them before I kill you.”

My lips slam shut with a cry, and I’m begging everyone who looks my way with my eyes and my shuffled feet. But this is New York City, and people are so far up in their own bullshit, they can’t see past their face.

And my oversized sunglasses don’t help anything either. I’d like to think that if the situation were reversed, I would stop and help—or find someone who could help.

Too many young women disappear off the streets each day, their bodies showing up days or weeks later, if at all.

I can’t decide if I regret watching that docuseries on trafficking last month because I know how common it really is or if I’m grateful because now I have a better understanding of what could happen to me.

I will my racing heart to calm down enough to come up with an idea—to think of something to help.

“I don’t have much money, but here, just take my purse.” I hold my purse away from my body by the crossbody strap.

He jerks my shoulder toward him, the gun digging into my lower back at a new angle. “Shut up.”

Adrenaline flies in my veins. “I’ll give you my purse, and I won’t report anything. I didn’t even see your face, so—”

“I said, shut up!” He spins me around, and I realize with dread that this is it. My last stand between my unknown fate, so I do something I’ve only seen on a screen or read about, and I duck down low and charge him.

I don’t waste time looking at his face or his clothes. My only goal is to distract him long enough for me to run away and get help.

But fate isn’t on my side right now. She demands balance.

My attacker easily deflects my attempt at a takedown, grabbing a handful of my hair in the process. He rips strands out of my head, the pain only a small blip thanks to the adrenaline flooding my veins.

“Goddamn fucking bitch!” He raises the gun above my head and brings the butt of it down hard.

And then everything goes dark.

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