Chapter 14 - The Abduction
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A week passed. Dante’s shoulder was healing, but the war with Volkov had escalated into a brutal, bloody stalemate. Dante rarely left the estate, orchestrating the destruction of Volkov’s empire from his study.
I was going stir-crazy. The mansion felt like a beautiful, heavily guarded prison.
“Just an hour,” I pleaded with Silas one afternoon. “I just want to go to the botanical gardens. You can bring a dozen guards. It’s a public, enclosed space.”
Silas hesitated, but seeing the exhaustion in my eyes, he eventually relented. He didn't tell Dante.
We took two armored cars. The botanical gardens were quiet, the massive glass greenhouse humid and filled with the scent of blooming orchids. Silas stayed exactly three steps behind me, his hand resting near his weapon.
I walked down a narrow, winding path lined with dense ferns, admiring a rare blue orchid.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the front entrance of the greenhouse. Screams erupted.
Silas spun around, drawing his weapon. “Miss Emma, get behind me!”
Before I could move, two men dressed as garden maintenance workers stepped out from behind the dense foliage right beside me. They weren't holding pruning shears. They were holding suppressed pistols.
One of them raised his gun and fired a dart directly into Silas’s neck. The massive bodyguard staggered, ripping the tranquilizer dart from his skin, but the heavy dosage dropped him to his knees within seconds.
“Silas!” I screamed, turning to run.
A heavy, gloved hand clamped over my mouth. A foul, chemical-smelling cloth was pressed violently against my nose and mouth.
I thrashed wildly, kicking backward, my heel connecting with a shin. The man grunted but didn't let go. He dragged me backward into the dense bushes. The world began to spin rapidly. The vibrant colors of the orchids blurred into a sickening smear of green and gray.
The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me completely was the heavy, flawless diamond ring on my left hand slipping through the dirt.
I woke up with a splitting headache, the taste of chemicals thick on my tongue. I was bound to a wooden chair with heavy zip-ties around my wrists and ankles. The air was damp and smelled of rust and old water.
A single, harsh bulb illuminated the center of the dark basement.
I blinked against the glaring light, trying to focus. A man stepped out of the shadows.
“Hello, Emma.”
May you like
I froze. The voice was unmistakable.
Marcus stood in front of me, looking terrified, pathetic, and guilty.
