Page 5 of The Bodyguard Undone

I’m being held prisoner by an unknown enemy. And I don’t know what’s happened to Kayne.

It’s then I notice a stone in the corner of the wall and the ceiling shift.

It’s a camera. I’m being watched. A slimy feeling rises inside me. I feel as if I’m going to throw up.

I’m startled when a voice looms around me and seems to be coming from the walls.

“Princess Sophia. Or rather Queen Sophia I should say.”

An electronic voice with an inhuman pitch fills my ears. It's unrecognizable no matter how I strain to decipher its owner.

“Who are you?” I shout, twirling around the room. “Where’s Kayne?”

“A tragic accident,” the voice intones, but I can hear the laughter behind the words. As if they’re goading me into asking if Kayne’s dead. I won’t because I know he isn’t. I would have felt it. I would have felt his absence. But I don’t. I say nothing more and the crackling sigh that releases is tinged with disappointment.

I think about Igor. He should have been waiting in the car park for me. I can only hope he was unharmed.

“I want to be released from this place at once,” I say, my tone measured, but my lips quiver.

My panic infects my patience and with my fear added to the combination I’m scared out of my mind and petrified as I realize the dire finality of what I’m about to face.

“All will be revealed in due course. There’s a pink dress in the closet, the silk one. I expect you to be wearing it when my man, Gary, comes for you. If you’re not dressed by the time he arrives to escort you to dinner, Gary will dress you himself. But perhaps this will motivate you to obey.”

The band around my neck buzzes and then an electrical shock rips through me. My muscles spasm painfully and I’m toppled over in sheer agony. It lasts no longer than a second but it leaves me kneeling on the floor, huffing out breaths, my threshold for pain already severely breached.

“Good. So you’ll do as you’re told. You have ten minutes.”

The intercom clicks off, I remain on the floor, my hands curling into fists, my knuckles bruised against the stone floor.

My mind circles a thousand thoughts a minute as I try to piece everything together because it refuses to accept the surreality of my situation.

I glance at the digital clock on the desk. I have eight minutes before I’m supposed to be ready. My inaction will get me nowhere. But if I listen to them, whoever has taken me, and wear the dress they told me to wear, I’ll be able to see a wider range of the hell hole keeping me imprisoned besides just this one room. I might be able to find a way out and get to Kayne wherever he is. I might be able to stab the person who brought me here against my will with a fork to the jugular.

I rise slowly to my feet. My body is still shaking from the electrical shock. I open the closet. It’s half full. Mostly tracksuit tops and bottoms, pink but in between, I find the dress. It’s the only one there.

I remove the flannel pajamas and a frosty breeze envelops me at once as I stand in a pair of bra and panties that don’t belong to me either.

The dress is sparse, poorly cut silk and chiffon. It drapes off my shoulders and reaches my ankles, a size too big. I drag the brush through my hair, but I’m uncaring of my appearance.

On the inside, I’m terrified beyond measure and barely keeping it together but I know I can’t crack now. Not until I know Kayne is okay.

The door slides open. A massive man, twice his height appears, his bald head gleaming, his eyes dead.

“One wrong move and I’ll happily press the button,” he says but one side of his face doesn’t move. The side wearing the scars of what could only have been a horrific fire.

My insides turn over as I relive the electrical shock I was given through the collar around my neck.

It weakened me tremendously and now was not the time to expend energy. I had to see Kayne. I had to know he was okay. I had to trust he would get us out of here alive.

The entire structure is made of stone. I’m beginning to think I’m in an underground dungeon of some sort, or secret tunnels used for hiding or escape in a previous time. I have no idea which country I’m even in. I can’t place the accent of the man they called Gary.

The corridors are long and winding. I’m counting my steps and I’ve already reached four hundred steps.

We walk further on until we reach a circular enclosure. In the middle of the alcove is a table laid for two. Fine china plates and expensive wine.

Hunger pangs erupt beneath the layers of my stomach. But I’m equally too nauseated to think of food.

The room is empty and Gary orders me to take a seat on one of the chairs around the table.

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