Page 11 of Craving Chaos

I wait for her retort. There’s no way she’ll let it end without having the last word. I’m so concentrated on what she might say that I fail to notice half of the crates are gone until I’m right upon them—or where they should have been. My hands go to my hips as I stare at the remaining crates. Shae stops beside me in a similar fashion. Before either of us can say anything, a searing pain lances through my skull, and darkness threatens my vision.

I’m on my knees.

Hands … pulling me.

A ruckus of sound rings in my ears, but I’m too disoriented to understand what’s happening. I do my best to blink away my confusion and realize I hear Shae cursing nearby. That helps clear out the cobwebs more than anything.

Someone is in the warehouse.

They attacked us.

Shae.

If they hurt her, I’ll kill them. I’ll peel back their fucking ribs and rip out their hearts with my bare hands.

I shake my head, using the pain to focus and take in the scene around me. Four masked men speak rapidly to one another. Foreign. Frantic. Whatever their plan, this wasn’t it.

I’m on the floor. My hands are secured behind me to the wide metal beam at my back. I feel Shae before I see her. She’s thrashing against her bindings next to me, secured to the side of the beam with our shoulders touching.

“You hurt?” I ask under my breath so as not to draw attention.

“Just my pride. I can’t believe I let them get the drop on us,” she hisses. “With you bashed over the head, I couldn’t take all four.”

“They didn’t try to knock you out?”

“They tried.”

I don’t have to see her smile to know it’s there.

A grunt of amusement angers the pounding in my head.

“If it’s any consolation, I was impressed you never fully blacked out. Should have known you’d be hard-headed,” she adds somewhat wistfully.

It strikes me that she isn’t remotely panicked. Pissed, yes. Inconvenienced, sure. But not scared.

The girl has balls of steel.

I’m not particularly worried, but most people would be. From my perspective, these assholes thought they’d slip in without ever being seen. They’ll most likely take what they came for and leave us here. Workers are rarely over here. This warehouse isn’t used frequently—that’s why it was chosen to store the crates. But our families will come looking for us … eventually.

My family knows how busy I’ve been. I doubt my absence would be questioned immediately. Let’s hope Shae’s cousins are diligent about keeping tabs on her.

“You have your phone still?” Mine’s gone, I know that much. It was in my back pocket, and it’s not there now between me and the concrete floor.

“They took everything—phones and weapons.”

“Looks like they’re taking your crates as well,” I point out. Three of the men are still bickering while one drives the forklift in from outside, sliding its prongs under one of the two remaining crates about fifty feet from us. If we hadn’t been arguing ourselves, maybe we would have heard the machine, but it’s a moot point now.

“So it would seem. Not sure how they knew to come after them.”

“You suggesting a leak on our end?”

Her shrugging shoulder rubs against mine. “Just noting there was likely some source of information—I doubt a worker happened upon them randomly.”

She’s right, so I keep quiet. No need to point out the source could have come from her end as easily as mine.

“Any idea what they’re speaking?” I ask while the men are too preoccupied to pay us any attention, not to mention the forklift is easily loud enough to drown out our whispers.

“I’m wondering if it’s Romanian.”

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