174

174
Emilia’s POV
The van’s interior smelled like sweat and stale cigarettes, an oppressive mix that churned my stomach. My hands, bound tightly behind me with rough rope, ached, and the gag they’d stuffed into my mouth earlier left my lips dry and cracked. They had removed it after they transferred me from the SUV into a van decided I was “safe enough” to keep quiet. Safe. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
I shifted against the hard metal floor, the cold seeping through my clothes, and tried to steady my breath. My heart hammered in my chest, loud enough that I thought they might hear it over the growl of the engine. The men sat in the front seats, talking low enough that I could only catch snippets of their conversation. Fear bubbled up in my throat as I found my voice.
“Please,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please, let me go. You’ve made a mistake-I’m no one important. You don’t need me.”
The man in the passenger seat, a wiry guy with greasy hair who reeked of tobacco, glanced back at me with a scowl. “Shut up.”
I didn’t.
“I’ll do whatever you want, just let me go. Please.” My words came out in a rush, tears already welling up in my eyes. “You don’t have to do this. Just drop me off somewhere, anywhere. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”
The driver, a burly man with a thick beard, didn’t even turn around. “You don’t get it, do you?” he muttered.
“Get what?” I pressed, desperation making my voice higher. “I don’t know anything. Please-”
Greasy Hair turned fully in his seat now, his glare cutting me off. “What did I say? Shut up!”
I flinched but kept talking. My mouth was running faster than my fear could clamp it shut. “Who are you working for? What do you want from me? I can-”
The slap came out of nowhere, sharp and stinging. My head snapped to the side, and for a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. Tears spilled over, hot against my stinging cheek.
“Jesus,” the driver muttered. “You didn’t have to hit her.”
“She wouldn’t shut up,” Greasy Hair grumbled, shaking his hand like he’d been the one hurt.
I swallowed hard, stunned into silence. My cheek throbbed, and humiliation burned just as fiercely as the pain. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out again, but it didn’t stop the tears.
The van hit a bump, jolting me against the side, and I focused on the cold metal beneath me to stay present. My head spun with questions. Why me? How had they known where we’d be? Was Alaric okay? My stomach twisted at the memory of him falling to the ground, blood blooming across his shirt.
I lifted my gaze to the men in the front. Their voices were quieter now, but I strained to catch snippets of their conversation.
“…Cruz won’t like this if we’re late,” the driver muttered, his hands tight on the wheel.
Greasy Hair snorted. “Cruz can shove it. We’ve got the girl. That’s all that matters.”
Cruz.
The name was like a slap to my memory. Alaric had mentioned Cruz before-always in a tone that suggested he wasn’t a man to cross. Cruz wasn’t just a rival, he was someone Alaric despised. Their families were mortal enemies.
I couldn’t let them see that I’d caught on. I kept my head down, breathing as evenly as I could despite my hammering heart.
The driver spoke again. “You think Castillo’s people will come after us?”
Greasy Hair laughed, short and cruel. “Let ’em try. Cruz has this locked down. Castillo’s not stupid enough to go up against him for one girl.”
One girl. The words sank like a weight in my chest. Would they be right? Would Alaric-no, I couldn’t believe that. I refused to believe that he would just let me go without a fight. But the fear was there, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
I couldn’t let them see it. I had to stay calm, as impossible as that seemed.
The van slowed, taking a sharp turn that threw me against the wall. Greasy Hair twisted in his seat again, grinning at me like a cat toying with a mouse.
“You’re awful quiet now,” he said.
I glared at him, my cheek still smarting.
“Good,” he continued. “Keep it that way. Cruz doesn’t like mouthy girls.”
The van jerked to a stop, the tires crunching over gravel. Greasy Hair hopped out first, slamming his door shut, while the driver rounded the van to haul me out.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me to my feet.
I stumbled, my legs weak from hours of cramped sitting, but I bit back any sound of protest. The cold night air hit me like a slap, and I squinted against the dim lights coming from what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
“Move,” the driver barked, shoving me forward.
I tried to gather my strength, but fear pressed on my chest like a vice. Every step felt heavier than the last as they led me toward the warehouse doors.
The inside was dimly lit, filled with the smell of oil and damp wood. A few other men lounged around a table, their eyes snapping to me as we entered.
“This her?” one of them asked, standing up.
“Yeah,” Greasy Hair said, his hand still gripping my arm. “She’s the one Cruz mentioned.”
Wanted for what?
I didn’t have time to dwell on the question. Greasy Hair shoved me forward, sending me sprawling onto the cold concrete floor. My palms stung from the impact, and I bit back a cry.
“She’s not much to look at,” one of the men said, his tone mocking.
“Doesn’t matter,” Greasy Hair replied. “Cruz has his reasons.”
The other men laughed, the sound echoing around the empty space. My stomach turned, but I forced myself to stay still, my head bowed.
One of them crouched in front of me, his breath reeking of alcohol. “What’s the matter, princess? Not so mouthy now, huh?”
I didn’t answer, and he chuckled, straightening up.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” Greasy Hair said.
“Tough won’t matter when Cruz gets here,” another one chimed in.
Cruz. Again, that name sent a shiver down my spine. Whatever the man wanted, it wasn’t going to be good.
They dragged me to a corner, tying my hands to a pipe running along the wall. The rope cut into my wrists, but I barely noticed the pain anymore. My mind raced, trying to piece together everything I’d heard. Cruz was behind this. He had ordered them to take me, but why? What did he want with me?
I swallowed hard, glancing around the room. The men had gone back to their table, playing cards and laughing like they didn’t have a hostage tied up in the corner.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. Alaric would come. He had to. I just had to hold on long enough for him to find me.
I hope he would find me.