Page 66 of Trapped

“But Axel is right. It’s not safe for you to be here,” my father says.

“Why don’t you come home, flaca?” my mom says, using my childhood nickname like sugar. Sprinkling it over her request as if it’s a plea. She isn’t asking me, she is telling me. That’s why I don’t want to go home.

I hate home.I hate that at twenty-one years old, I’m unable to make my own decisions about my life. I hate being treated like a child. I hate having to live like a doll on a shelf. I hate the way I don’t even have the courage to voice any of this to them.

My parents flew in as soon as the news broke out about Lucia’s kidnapping. Thalia doesn’t blame me for what happened, but that hasn’t stopped the guilt from creeping up on me. How did I become so distracted? Why did I let her chase after Guapo? Why didn’t I take a guard with me? I had failed Lucia, and it is another testament to the fact that I can’t handle this world.

“Ari,” my dad says, and I look up to meet his soft eyes. “I can’t leave you here unless I know you’ll be safe. The hotel is not safe for you.”

I don’t even argue with them. I zone out as they continue to make plans for my life. Adan sits across from me. He’s the silentbut deadly type. He rarely says much, but when Adan speaks, everyone listens.

“Why can’t Axel find her a bodyguard?” he says.

Okay, not the exact thing I wanted to hear, but it’s better than returning to California. I smile up at him. Axel glares at Adan.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Mom says, breaking the silence.

I send Adan a look of gratitude. I let them argue about my life before excusing myself from the table. I pick up Guapo from the floor and head to the office. Genesis follows, and I wait until we’re alone before I pull out my phone and see the group message we were forced into by an unknown number. Genesis showed me the message under the table, but I was only able to make out the picture.

That was partially why I agreed with Adan’s bodyguard idea, not paying full attention to the details. I need to find Lucia. Maybe if I bring her back, I can prove I am able to care for myself as well. I open the message sent to Genesis and me. In the picture, Lucia sits at a table with a bowl of ice cream. Her hair is down, and her toothless smile is on full display.

Unknown: If you want her back, you will follow my orders. I will send you the location in the next hour. Drive to the location until a police officer pulls you over.

Unknown: If you bring anyone with you, no one will survive.

Two hours later, Gen and I are staring out the windshield as I drive onto the exit for the main highway. I’ll be the first to admit Genesis and I are in way over our heads with this idea. Neither of us has any idea what we are doing. I didn’t even thinkto grab any weapons before heading straight to the location the unknown caller had sent to me. A detail that is making me queasy the closer we get. We travel north on the highway for twenty minutes before we hear the sirens behind us. I pull over and look at Genesis. She plays nervously with her hands in the passenger seat.

“License and registration,” the officer says with a smirk on his face. He’s an older man, mid 40s, with piercing blue eyes. His eyes don’t quite fit the structure of his face. They are too big, giving him a more terrifying look. I look at his name tag and take a mental picture. Officer Greyson.

I don’t like the way Officer Greyson is looking us up and down. I stick my chin out and mimic Thalia’s more confident tone.

“Are you going to take us to your master or what?” I ask. My voice is a little shaky, but not bad. Master seems to be the wrong word, considering Officer Greyson just lets out a laugh.

His eyes roam over Genesis’s body. Genesis trembles next to me in the passenger seat. I can hear my heart thumping out of my chest with each of his demands.

“Get out of the vehicle, ladies.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Give me your phones.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Hands behind your backs.”

Thump, thump, thump.

My heartbeats are loud. I can’t focus on my movement. I just do. Gen and I step out and hand him our phones. He places us in handcuffs and pushes us back onto the side of the car. The side that’s not facing the highway. The thumping of my heart becomes a loud drum as knots form in the pit of my stomach.

“Is this necessary?” I ask.

“I can’t risk one of you mamacitas shooting me, now can I?” he says in a thick Texan accent. I cringe at the nickname.

He pushes my head into the car. I tense the moment his hands touch me. My body freezes the way it did all those years ago. I close my eyes and try to picture myself anywhere but here. He starts by patting me down as one would in a regular procedure. I try to focus on the sound of cars driving past us. His hands move to my front, over my thin cotton tank top, and he reaches into my shirt. Bile rises in my throat as he fondles me.

I close my eyes. I drown out the moans falling from his mouth. I count the seconds. Count my breaths, desperate to block out his touch. I stay there like that while he continues to assault me, cupping me from outside my jeans. When I finally feel the absence of him, I open my eyes to see him grabbing Genesis. I stare at her lost expression. The tears streaming down her face mirror mine. We’ve been here before. It is a traumatic bond we never wanted to share. Secrets we never spoke of. We were crying then, and we are crying now.

I close my eyes when he moves to her. I don’t watch as he takes his time violating her the way he did me. When he’s done and places us in the car, I’m grateful for the hoods placed on our heads. I don’t want to see the scumbag. I want to die all over again. I reach for Genesis’s hand, just like I did when we were twelve years old. That unspoken bond binding us together all over again.

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