Page 54 of Fate Awakened

“Do I get another chemical cocktail, or can I walk to the car?” I smart.

“Just restraints and blindfold,” he shrugs, guilt evident on his face. I sigh, knowing I need to save my strength to escape, and I climb out of the chair. Hudson doesn’t stop me as I turn toward the hallway en route to the bathroom. I don’t know how long this trip will be, but I don’t want another side-of-the-road stop.

Once I relieve myself and wash my hands, I head back out, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and exit the front door. As Hudson follows behind me silently, I walk to the back door of the SUV and stop, waiting for him to give me instructions.

A blindfold falls over my eyes, and I feel the tugging of the knot he’s tying as his fingers tangle in my hair. I clench my teeth at the sharp pain as he tightens the knot, a chunk of my hair coming with it.

Plastic pulls against my wrists, and I feel them come together as the zip tie ratchets down. Silently sending up a thank you that he kept them in front of me. Trying to get them off from behind would have posed a whole extra level of difficulty I wasn’t sure I’d be able to overcome. He leaves them loose enough for circulation, but tight enough that I wouldn’t easily be able to remove them.

“Please don’t try anything. If you keep your mouth shut and follow directions, chances are you will be back in Vegas in a number of days. If you sass them, fight, or try to escape, they will hurt you, maybe kill you,” he finishes, his voice pleading some in his warning.

“Wouldn’t want that on your conscience, now would we,” I say, getting out the last of my 'sass' before letting him guide me into the car.

As we start driving, I don’t allow my mind to wander and instead try to keep track of time. I begin singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall to myself to see how much time passes. According to my self-defense instructor, the whole song, sung at an average pace, should take about fifteen minutes to complete. It’s not exactly scientific, and I’m not sure it matters since I don’t know where I’m starting from, but it helps with my nerves and occupies my mind.

After four rounds and about twelve extra bottles, the car comes to a stop. I hear Hudson shift into park and unbuckle. It’s then that my heart rate picks up.

Just breathe. I’m going to be okay. I’m worth more alive.

The door next to me opens, and hands grab under my arm, gently shifting me out of the car. I assume this is still Hudson, as I don’t hear any other footsteps.

What people say about removing one sense and heightening the others is accurate. An icy breeze picks up as we walk, and I shiver involuntarily. I hear the distant sound of cars driving and the faraway chatter of conversation or radio. No birds, no smell of trees. It sounds like I'm in the city.

We enter through a door of a building, and heat caresses my face as the sound of office workers fills my ears. The occasional phone ringing, a quiet conversation, keys typing.

No one thinks it's odd that a blindfolded woman was just escorted in here?

“You Tony’s three o'clock?” a woman asks. Her voice is accusatory as she audibly smacks her gum. I feel more than hear the presence of new people behind me, and my muscles tense.

“Yeah,” Hudson replies, not adding anything more.

“Just a moment,” her voice responds, and the heels clicking on the tile floor echo her departure.

“Well, at least they are…” I don’t get to finish the sentence before the grip on my arm hardens to the point of pain, causing me to cry out.

“You will not speak unless spoken to,” he orders. The voice of the boy from my double date is unrecognizable now as he loosens his grip.

I don’t apologize. Partly because he just told me not to speak, but also because I told myself I’d no longer apologize for existing, for taking up space.

Setting my shoulders back, I stand silent but proud. Rustling next to me has me leaning away from the sounds moments before hands grab my hair, dig into my bun and then slide down my shoulders into the pockets of my hoodie before continuing down to my waist. I bite my lip, restraining myself from kicking at the person searching me.

They’re just making sure it's not a trap.

I think to calm myself as the hands move efficiently down to my shoes.

The telltale click of heels announces the woman before Hudson guides me to start walking again. As we move, I lose count of the footsteps I hear. Hers are apparent and contrast the others, but I also hear one or two sets behind me.

As we enter what I assume is our meeting room, the pungent smell of cigars hangs in the air. I choke back a cough, shifting my breathing.

“What do we have here?” a slow, deep voice rumbles.

Hudson releases my arm, and I hear the distinct click of the door shut behind me. Fear floods my body despite me knowing this would happen. The reality of being handed over, or more accurately trafficked, causes my knees to feel weak and my hands to shake. I clasp them together to hide the movement and focus on controlling my breathing.

“As I said on the phone, “ Hudson begins, his voice low, less commanding than it had been moments ago. “I’m ready to make the trade for my parents. Your Alpha agreed to have them released if I worked with you. I not only held up my end of the deal, but I came bearing a gift.”

My blindfold is pulled off my eyes, causing them to squint against the room's brightness, and I physically restrain myself from reaching back to rub my hair where it was just ripped from my head.

As my vision focuses, I note I’m standing before a large oak desk. Beautiful mahogany bookshelves fill the walls, full of impressive-looking leatherbound books. Hudson stands on my left, blindfold dangling from his hand, looking more nervous than I have ever seen him.

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