Page 52 of Bound to the Bodyguard

My heart thrashed against my ribcage like a wild bird trapped in a cage. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not after everything I’ve fought for. Jerome, where are you?

I tried to bite down, to fight back any way I could, but the hand was positioned in a way that kept my jaws from gaining the leverage they needed. The other figure moved with a predator’s grace, opening the vehicle’s back door in a swift motion. The interior loomed before me—a dark void waiting to swallow me whole.

No, no, no. I struggled against the iron hold, the muffled sounds of my defiance lost beneath the heavy palm. You’re Raven Fields. This is not your end.

“Easy,” the second figure cooed mockingly, reaching for me with an eagerness that chilled me to the bone. “You’re coming with us.”

Their intentions were clear, their movements practiced. But my spirit wouldn’t yield so easily, my resolve fortified by every challenge I’d ever faced. I wouldn’t let the darkness take me without a fight—even if it was with nothing more than the silent scream in my eyes.

“Let go of me!”

The attacker grunted, the sound barely audible as I landed a solid kick to their shin. Pain flashed across the figure’s obscured face, but they held on, their grip tightening like a vise. I could hear the ragged cadence of my own breaths, feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, yet it wasn’t enough.

“Stop squirming,” the figure growled.

I clawed at the gloved hands, nails raking in search of skin, of any purchase that might give me an edge. My world had narrowed to this moment—my will against theirs. But even as I struggled, a cold realization settled in; my attacker was well-trained, unfazed by my ferocity.

Suddenly, a surge of strength—or perhaps sheer desperation—propelled me forward, loosening the ironclad hold for a mere second. It was all I needed. With a wrenching motion, I tore herself away, gasping for air and space.

Before I could process my next move, let alone make a run for it, strong arms encircled my waist from behind. The second figure’s grasp was unyielding as they dragged me back, each step toward the vehicle pounding a beat of utter dread into my heart.

“Please, no!” My voice broke free, raw and laced with terror. I knew pleading was useless, but the words spilled out nonetheless, a reflex born from the depths of my fear.

The back door of the vehicle gaped open like the maw of some great beast, ready to consume her. They were so close now; I could smell the stale scent of the car’s interior mingling with the night air.

“Stay still,” the figure hissed, their breath hot against my ear. “This can be easy, or this can be hard.”

Like hell it will. But my captor’s determination matched my own, and slowly, inexorably, I felt myself being pulled into the darkness.

“Get in,” one of the figures growled, shoving me harder.

Someone has to see this. Someone has to notice.

“Quiet,” the masked figure snapped, giving me a rough push that sent me tumbling into the backseat.

My head spun, and for a moment, the world narrowed to a pinprick of light as I fought to maintain consciousness. As I scrambled upright, the last thing I saw before the figure leaned in after me was the alley—a narrow corridor of desperation—my last connection to the outside world.

The thud of the doors closing reverberated through my body, a chilling punctuation to my fate. The vehicle lurched into motion, snatching away my last glimpse of the alley and catapulting me into darkness.

“Who are you? What do you want?” My voice echoed in the cramped space, a tone laced with both fear and the steel of my resolve.

“Shut up,” the figure beside me hissed, his breath foul against my cheek.

It could be anyone—jealous rivals, obsessed fans, someone with a vendetta against my success. But why? Why now?

“Is it ransom you’re after?”

“Quiet!” the figure in front snapped, and the other one tightened his grip on my arm, a silent threat.

“Ouch!” The sharp pain brought clarity, and with it, a surge of adrenaline. I had survived too much to crumble now. Every setback, every challenge I’d faced in my climb to the top had fortified my spirit. They may have thought they’d captured just another damsel in distress, but I was no such cliché.

“Okay... okay. You’ve made your point. You have me.”

“Smart girl,” came the gruff reply, but there was tension in the air—a coiled readiness that suggested complacency was far from their minds.

Without my phone, without a way to communicate, I might as well be a ghost. I shifted slightly, testing my captors’ reactions, assessing my chances. I needed a plan, an opportunity.

“Please. Just tell me what you want.”

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