Page 37 of Sinister Intentions

I tried to get a sense of the room. I was in a sitting position. I yanked on my arms but couldn’t lift them.

“What the?—”

I tried to move my legs—equally unsuccessfully. I was restrained, my wrists and ankles bound tightly to what felt like a sturdy chair.

My arms and legs tingled, and when my fingers went numb, panic bubbled up, hot and acidic. I jerked against the restraints again, testing their strength.

Ropes, not zip-ties.

Who on earth would use rope in this day and age?

I jolted my arms again, this time with even more force, and the ropes surprisingly didn’t cut into my skin. Sadly, they didn’t give an inch either, no matter how hard I strained against them.

I tugged and pulled until my muscles burned and my chest heaved with exertion. But the bonds held fast, leaving me trapped and immobile.

Shit.

My pulse thundered in my ears as a thousand terrifying scenarios flashed through my mind. Who took me? Why? What did they want?

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to take a slow, deep breath.

Freaking out wouldn’t help me at all. I needed to keep a level head and focus. I needed to be prepared to escape if I wanted to find a way out of this. Escape had to be my top priority. The room became smaller around me, the blackness oppressively dense.

Silence pressed in from all sides, heavy and suffocating.

My throat went uncomfortably tight, and it felt as if that arm was back around my throat, cutting off all air. Whatever this place was, it felt…empty. Devoid of life. Like a void where hope went to die.

I couldn’t breathe.

I clenched my jaw and squeezed my fists.

Not again. Never again.

And that was when I heard it.

I jolted at the faintest sound, my heart pounding violently against my rib cage. Someone was in here with me, watching from the shadows.

The realization amplified my terror to dizzying heights.

“Who’s there?” I demanded, my voice barely audible despite my efforts to sound strong. “What the hell do you want from me?”

Silence answered, thick and suffocating. I strained to detect any movement, any breath, or rustle of clothing, but there was nothing. Just the thunderous pounding of blood in my ears.

Terror squeezed my chest as my mind raced. Were they going to hurt me? Kill me? Sell me into human trafficking? A hundred nightmarish scenarios flashed through my thoughts, each more horrific than the last.

“Show yourself, you coward!” I screamed into the darkness, yanking furiously at my restraints. The ropes didn’t give an inch, biting into my wrists, making everything worse.

My breaths came in frantic gasps as panic clawed its way up my throat. I couldn’t get enough air. Couldn’t think clearly. The room seemed to shrink around me, closing in like the walls of a tomb.

Not again. Dear God, not again.

I tried to hold my breath until I gasped for air. And no matter how much I tried to take slow breaths, and no matter how much I tried to calm the frantic pounding of my heart, the panic was still stronger. I’d remained calm in Italy. Had thought someone would surely come to our rescue.

Only nobody came.

And now it was happening again.

Memories of that dark basement in Italy flooded my mind—the dank smell, the oppressive silence, the chilling fear of the other girls there.

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