Page 172 of Blood & Snow
I look at the doors, but they're locked from the outside.
Then I look at the men who are both armed, both watching me.
I have no weapon.
No plan.
Nothing but desperation.
The van turns a corner, and I slide across the floor, bracing myself against the wall, and wait.
Another turn.
Another slide.
The older man adjusts his grip on his gun.
The floor of this van is beating my hips to hell, but I grit my teeth and pretend it doesn’t hurt.
I wait until the van slows again and this time, I lunge.
I throw myself at the blond one, my hands reaching for the gun on his belt.
He shouts and grabs my wrist, twisting it back.
Pain shoots up my arm and I scream and claw at his face with my free hand.
My nails rake across his cheek, drawing blood that stains my fingertips and runs down his cheek, and then he punches me in the stomach.
The air leaves my lungs, rising up into my chest as I double over, gasping, my vision blurring.
For a moment, I see stars, and I can't even manage to suck in a breath again.
I'm flailing, grasping for anything to steady myself as the older man grabs me by the hair and slams my head into the side of the van.
Stars explode behind my eyes as my vision dims and goes dark for a second.
"Stupid bitch," the blond one snarls.
He wipes the bloodfrom his face and spits at me.
"You think you can fight us? You think you can escape?"
I can't breathe.
I can't think.
All I can do is curl into a ball on the floor and try not to vomit as the van rocks back and forth, hitting potholes and continuing to make turns.
When my vision returns and my breathing almost normalizes, I understand how foolish my idea was, but I'm terrified.
If I didn't try to run, it would mean succumbing to death willingly.
The van stops and the doors open. Hands grab me and drag me out into the snow.
I'm back in an alley, this time at a bakery—probably connected to the factory or warehouse we were in before.
This is all part of their cover business.
