Page 7 of Sinful Scars

Stop, Elle. Think.

I remember checking the number plate of the car to make sure it matched the one in the app before climbing in, which means this was no accident. Whoever took me hacked the system to ensure that I would get in the car without raising any suspicion.

“Oh god.” I should have just gone straight home after my shift like I had planned. Not that the deadbolt on my apartment door would be enough to keep me safe from my uncle's enemies, but maybe they wouldn’t have gone after me there.

Wrapping my arms around my shaking body, I force myself to keep my eyes on the road rather than screwing them shut.

I can’t give in to the fear, not when any wrong move might cost me not just my life, but Lucia’s too.

When the car starts to slow and the sight of the run-down motel comes into view, my stomach churns.

It only gets worse as the driver throws open my door and half drags, half carries me out of the car and across the empty parking lot toward the only room with a light on.

Is this where they’ll find me?

I stumble at the thought, and the driver tightens his grip on my arm as we approach the door, my legs shaking so much I can barely hold my own weight.

“Stay quiet,” he growls before slamming his fist against the door.

I can barely hear him over the ringing in my ears.

My body feels painfully cold, as if all the blood has rushed to my head, and my knees keep buckling at the thought of what could be waiting for me on the other side of this door.

I’ve seen too many movies to know that whatever it is, it won’t be good.

When the door finally opens, I’m pushed over the threshold into the cramped motel room where two more men are waiting.

I cringe as the one holding the door open looks me up and down with a feral gleam in his eye.

“Where is Lucia?” My voice shakes.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to find another man stalking across the small room toward me with a face like stone.

“Now you die.” He pulls a gun out of the pocket of his jacket, putting a bullet right between the eyes of the driver.

I scream as he falls to the floor with a thud.

If I wasn’t freaking the fuck out before, I sure as hell am now.

3

ELLE

There are onlytwo things I’m absolutely certain about.

One is that I have no idea whether or not Lucia is alive. And the second is that I will likely die in this motel room.

Not exactly the most comforting of thoughts but when the body of my kidnapper is lying dead at my feet in a pool of his own blood, my usual knack for finding silver linings is proving difficult.

I don’t struggle against the restraints that are keeping me tied to the rickety wooden chair in the corner of the motel room. I almost laughed as my captors bound my wrists with rope considering the fact that both of them are well over six feet tall and have the combined weight of a grizzly bear.

I’m not exactly in a position to fight them off, which only adds to the panic that is causing my stomach to churn painfully.

I’m trying my best not to breathe through my nose as the room smells of dampness and blood, which, mixed withthe alcohol currently lining my stomach, is making me nauseous to the point of almost throwing up.

To distract myself from the crippling fear, I silently observe my two captors as they sit side by side on the moth-eaten couch and talk in hushed whispers.

With every glance in my direction, my heart rate spikes, and I know they can see the fear in my eyes no matter how hard I try to school my features into a neutral expression. Which is already hard to do when my kidnapper’s body is right at my feet.

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