Page 83 of Declan

I grab my keys and glance at my phone on the coffee table, still off. Still silent.

I walk out the door.

I don’t even realize I’ve been driving for over an hour until the red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror, slicing through the dawn like a blade.

“Shit.”

Panic creeps in fast. I know I wasn’t speeding. This car practically begs for mercy at sixty. And I haven’t done a damn thing wrong.

Still, my heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I reach across the seat, fumbling for my insurance and registration. The moment I sit up, the officer is already at my window, pounding on it like he’s trying to shatter the glass.

I roll it down fast and force a shaky smile. “Did I do something wrong?”

“License, insurance, and registration.” His voice is sharp. Cold. He doesn’t even lift his sunglasses.

I pass him my documents with trembling fingers.

“Can I ask why I was pulled over?”

He doesn’t answer. Just studies my info, face carved from stone.

Then, without a word, he grabs the door handle and yanks it open.

“What the hell?” I flinch back, eyes wide. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Lena Lennon, I have a warrant for your arrest.”

My blood turns to ice.

“What? No, no, that’s not possible. I’ve never even been arrested before! There has to be a mistake!”

He grabs me, spinning me around, and slams me against my own car. The metal is freezing against my cheek, but not as cold as the cuffs he snaps around my wrists.

“Sir, please! You have the wrong person!” I shout, tears blurring my vision.

He leans in, pressing his lips too close to my ear, his voice a low, threatening whisper. “The only mistake was the company you kept, Lena.”

A chill slithers down my spine. This isn’t right. This isn’t normal. Something’s wrong.

I twist to get a better look at him, my body trembling. I don’t recognize him, but something in the way he moves, too casual, too cruel, makes my skin crawl.

“This isn’t a real arrest, is it?” I whisper, heart pounding like a war drum. “Who are you?”

He shoves me off the car. “Shut up.”

I stumble, trying to stay on my feet, but he’s already dragging me toward his cruiser. I know if I get in that car, it’s over.

So I fight.

I scream. I kick. I thrash with everything I have, trying to dig my heels into the pavement.

“Let me go!” I scream. “Help! Someone help me!”

No one hears me.

No one’s around.

He slams me onto the hood of his car again, his full weight crushing me. My breath whooshes out, and I gag on a sob.

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