Page 107 of Taken Off Camera
“Help!” I scream into the empty street. “Somebody help!”
“I’ve called for help!” The truck driver stumbles into view, cell phone clutched in his hand. “I didn’t see them, I swear. They came out of nowhere.”
His words register dimly past my panic. I peer through the window again, searching for any sign of movement. Sebastian’s chest rises faintly beneath his seatbelt, but he remains motionless, a gash across his forehead streaming blood down his scarred face.
“The door’s stuck,” I tell the truck driver, tugging at the handle. “We need to get them out.”
The man hovers at my shoulder, too close for comfort, his clothes carrying the sour tang of nervous sweat. “Ambulance is coming. Might be best not to move them, right? Spinal injuries and all that.”
His logic penetrates my panic. Moving accident victims can cause more harm than good. But leaving Sebastian trapped in the crumpled car feels wrong on a primal level, my Omega instincts screaming to protect my Alpha.
I flatten my palm against the window. “Sebastian, if you can hear me, help is coming. Stay with me.”
The truck driver shifts behind me. “You know these guys?”
“They’re my friends,” I answer without turning, attention locked on Sebastian’s face, willing him to wake up. “They were following me to Brickwell.”
“Brickwell, huh? What business do you have there this time of night?”
The question raises the hair on my neck, out ofplace amid the crisis. I turn to face him, taking in handsome features for the first time, blond hair, slender build, pretty if not for premature aging and the calculated interest in his blue eyes.
Cold metal shoves into my side, the distinctive shape of a gun barrel unmistakable even through my sweatshirt.
“Finally, we meet in person,” a new voice says, though the truck driver’s lips don’t move. A second figure emerges from the shadows beyond the crash, his unremarkable face matching the one I’d seen on security footage. “Now, step away from the car, Elliot. You’re coming with me.”
Travis. My breath catches in my throat as realization crashes over me. The truck, the crash, the timing. It was all planned. All orchestrated to draw me out of Rockford Manor. We had hypothesized that Travis had someone helping him, but we never found any evidence.
“The ambulance—” I begin.
“Isn’t coming.” Travis steps closer, his ordinary face transformed by the malice in his eyes. The gun digs deeper into my back. “Your friends might get help, eventually. If you cooperate.”
I seek out Sebastian again through the shattered window, willing him to wake up, to save me as hepromised. But he doesn’t move, his powerful body unresponsive. The comm in my ear has gone silent. No one knows what’s happening. No one is coming to help.
“Saint,” I whisper. “Where is he?”
Travis’s smile stretches wide, revealing too-white teeth in the darkness. “Waiting for you. Though not quite as eagerly as I am.” His free hand grips my arm. “We have so much to talk about, Elliot. I can’t wait to know everything about you.”
As he drags me backward, away from the wreckage containing my unconscious Alpha, I catch a final glimpse of Sebastian’s face through the broken glass. For a moment, I think his eyelids flutter, a faint movement that might be imagination or desperate hope.
Then, Travis shoves me toward the waiting truck, and Sebastian disappears from view.
29
The zip ties cut deeper into my wrists with every jolt of the truck, pain flaring white-hot whenever I shift my position. Hard metal digs into my shoulder, and the vibrations rattle up my spine until my teeth ache behind the fabric gag.
While tying me up, Travis had found the communicator in my ear and crushed it beneath his boot. Then he’d shoved me into a toolbox attached to the back of his truck.
Now, I struggle to calm my panicked breaths as I strain my ears through the engine noise, desperate to catch any clue about where we’re heading.
But the rushing sound of tires on pavement offersnothing but the certainty that each mile puts more distance between me and Sebastian’s crumpled car.
I kick and thrash until my boots slam into metal, the echo deafening inside the confined space. The box rattles but holds firm, every useless blow feeding my panic until the air itself feels too thin to breathe.
Sebastian.My chest constricts at the memory of his blood-streaked face, still and unmoving behind the shattered windshield. Was he really breathing when Travis dragged me away? The image of his limp body haunts me, the possibility that those lids might never open again turning my blood to ice.
We’d been arguing about stupid things like where to live less than an hour ago. Why did I let pride get in my way? I don’t want to spend a single second away from his side, and if that means moving to Rockford Manor, what’s there to complain about? I wish I could rewind to that moment, throw my arms around his neck, and tell him yes.
I roll onto my back, trying to relieve the pressure on my shoulders. The truck hits a pothole, launching me a few inches off the floor before gravity slams me back down. Pain explodes through me, and I bite down on the gag to keep from crying out.
