Page 19 of To Hate You

I narrowed my eyes and walked closer. “What happened?”

“I’m so sorry. I hit the back of your car.”

“What? How?” I rushed over.

“My dog was in the car, and I got distracted. I’m really sorry.”

The dent on the right side of the bumper wasn’t the worst fender-bender. “It’s okay.”

“I’m really sorry,” he continued. “I have insurance.”

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal.”

“I parked around the corner. Just...um, let me get my insurance card.” The man seemed distressed, his fingers fidgeting with the car keys as he pulled them out of his pocket.

“It’s just a dent. There’s no need to get insurance involved.” Besides, judging by his old, brown coat with missing buttons and the torn seams of his pants, my guess was he couldn’t afford it anyway.

“No, I insist,” he replied. “It was my fault. I’ll just go get my card.”

I sighed, feeling sorry for the distraught old guy, his shoulders slumped as he made his way around the corner.

“Sir,” I called as I followed him. “It’s not that bad. I can get it fixed myself.”

The front bumper of his car hung loosely on the right side; the light shattered, and the fender busted. His car got it way worse than mine, and I took pity on the old man. “Listen, I don’t want to get your insurance involved,” I said while walking closer, watching him rummage through his glove compartment. “I can get my own—”

A black van pulled up to the curb with screeching tires, grinding the pavement. The pungent smell of burnt rubber exploded around me as a wall of black metal, and tinted glass stopped in front of me, the panel sliding open with a loud thud.

Fear speared through my spine, with everything spiraling around me. Instinct told me to run, but it was too late. Strong arms grabbed me around my waist and pulled me into the van. A hand clasped around my mouth before I could scream, and the door slammed shut, the sound sending a shockwave of dread down every bone in my body. The van started to move, the vibration of tires hitting the asphalt causing my fear to explode inside me.

Something got pulled over my head, drowning me in darkness, and that’s when my frenzied thoughts came to a halt so I could realize what was happening.

I was being kidnapped.

At first, I tried fighting with every ounce of strength I had in me. But all it got me was having my hands tied behind my back. My ankles got tied, too, since I managed to kick someone in the face. I wasn’t sure what kind of damage I had done, but I was hoping I had at least broken a jaw.

It felt like hours as the van kept on moving. Loud music blasted while we drove. It was impossible to hear anything other than some heavy metal nutjob screaming with a demonic voice about how angry he was at his mother for making him wear a dress when he was five.

The van stopped, and my heart wanted to crack through my chest. The sound of the panel sliding open grating down my spine. I got pulled from the van and flung over someone’s shoulder. With my hands tied behind my back all I could do was thrash and twist my body to get whoever the fuck it was to let go of me.

“Put me down, you son of a bitch.” I was consumed with panic, but right now, my flight mode was no match for my fight.

“If you think my father’s going to pay some ridiculous ransom for me, you are the world’s stupidest asshole.” I tried jerking a knee into this person’s abdomen, but I just got scooted higher up with a tightened grip. “I’m the problem child, okay? My dad will pay you to take me.”

I had no idea what their MO was, but the first thing that came to mind was that my dad pissed someone off, and the Whitlock daughter became the target.

Me.

The van’s engine revved, and the sound of tires pressing the dirt deeper into the ground grew quieter with distance. Where the hell were we? Who were these people?

Solid footsteps echoed on what sounded like a wooden deck, followed by the distinct sound of a door creaking open. With my head covered, I couldn’t see a fucking thing. It was all complete darkness, a black void that made it increasingly easier to fucking panic.

A loud thud had me gasping for air. I assumed it was a door that slammed shut, wood creaking as we moved. An image of a cold, dirty basement tore through my mind, igniting the type of terror that smothered the fight I had two seconds ago. What if I was wrong, and this wasn’t some ransom plan? Would I be stuck in a basement for days, weeks?What about...what about my baby?

Jesus.

I inhaled as much oxygen as I could through the thick material covering my face, trying to think of something—some way to get myself out of this nightmare. But I had nothing. My mind was tied with fear, and I realized that I was at the complete mercy of whoever was carrying me.

The words ‘please don’t hurt me’were on the tip of my tongue when I was abruptly dropped into someone else’s arms. The rag over my face shifted up, and I caught the woody, spicy scent of patchouli before getting my ass planted on the hard floor.

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