Voices sound from outside the door and I freeze, straining to hear what they’re saying. “I’m waiting for the green light from him. He wants to make sure the boyfriend follows.”

Dread squeezes my insides like a clenching fist. They’re baiting Damon and the guys. Shit. I’ve got to get out of here; I can’t let them get hurt.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with her first. That one’s got an ass on her like I’ve never seen.”

Oh, no.Their voices are getting closer.

I scoot against the only sliver of open wall, plant my feet and push against it. Once I’m standing, I frantically search the space for something,anything, to help me.

“Bro, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If he finds out…”

There’s a mop. I could try to hit him with it. Or maybe I can pull some of these boxes down on him.

Think, Blake.

There’s a thump and then raised voices. It sounds like whoever’s out there is fighting. Holding onto the shelves, I make it to the back of the closet and peer into an open box.Yes.A packing tape dispenser.

I grab it, being extra careful to not knock the box over and get to work, flipping it in my palm so the serrated edge lines up with my binding.

Drops of blood smear my fingers, but I barely feel the sting from where the blade nicked me. I’m too focused on getting free. It’s close. When I pull, I can feel a small amount of give in the ties.

“Shit!” The dispenser slips from my fingers and lands a few feet away. I’ll have to get low and crawl.

Sliding down the wall, I freeze as the door swings wide, revealing two towering figures dressed in black. They look as if they’re related. Brothers, maybe. The one on the right looks older with graying hair and harsh lines etched into his face. It’s the one on the left that makes my hair stand on edge. He’s smiling at me with crooked teeth like I’m his next meal.

“Little doll is awake,” the younger brother says. From his tone, I know he’s the same man who grabbed me. He peers down at my bloody hands. “Looks like you started the fun without me.” I’m trembling and trying to control my breathing while the space closes in around me. He bends to pick up the tape dispenser and chuckles. “Bruce, look at this.”

He shoves the bloodied object at his brother. Bruce’s face is immobile—hard as stone. I’m not sure which man frightens me more. He runs his fingertip over my damp blood and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply, before fixing his expressionless gaze on me.

“You see what I’m saying now?” the younger brother says. “I’ve been watching this one. She’s feisty when she wants to be.”

“Lock the door,” Bruce says as he steps closer. One hand reaches down to undo his belt.

“Please,” I plead. “You don’t want to do this. Please.” Tears stream down my face as I back as far away from them as I can.

“Shh,” the younger one says as he turns for the door. “It’ll be over soon. Be a good little doll.” My vision fades again, but not because of any drug. I’ve been here before, when I’ve needed a place to go, to protect my mind from what was happening to my body. A shadowed recess of my psyche to escape the darkness.

The sound of the lock clicking echoes in my mind. This is it. It’s the moment before the end. I suck in a choked breath, forcing it down into my chest, while the man hovers over me. I could fight—kick and scream. But I know it’ll only make things worse in the end.

The younger brother’s taunts are mixed with the labored grunts of the man above me. Fisting my bound and bloodied wrists, he slams me onto the cold concrete, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through my skull.

“Cut her ties,” he grunts, pawing at my leggings. I squirm, trying to free my arms from his grip.

His phone rings just as his switchblade makes contact with my binding.Please.I’m not the praying type but I’ll pray to any deity for this to be someone that gets them far away from me.

The ringing rumbles off the walls like a fire alarm, and the two men pause their assault to look at each other. “Who is it?” Bruce asks.

He replaces the switchblade with his phone. “Ah, fuck. It’s him.” His voice drops to a hardened tone and his sneer is replaced with a deep frown as he looks down at me. “Hey, boss… Uh, huh… Yeah… No. We’ll bring her.”

Once he hangs up and puts the phone back in his pocket, he has a silent conversation with his brother. Bruce lets my arms drop and stands with flared nostrils and narrowed eyes.

The younger brother’s back to sneering at me. “It’s your lucky day, doll. Well, maybe not… Once you see what he’s going to do with you, you’re gonna wish you were still in here with us.”

I’m alone,strapped to a metal chair, in another storage room filled with boxes. Have I truly been saved from one horror only to endure another? The feeling of foreboding fills me… like each breath I take brings me closer to death.

The squeal of door hinges pulls my attention, and in walks a man so familiar to me, I should feel a sense of relief. But the cold expression in his stare sends a chill down my spine. His right hand rests on the grip of his holstered gun, ready to draw and fire at a moment’s notice.

“Blake… I hope my men have been treating you well. Did you have a nice nap?” His slight Russian accent adds an unsettling facade to his fake politeness.