Chapter 3

I fled the party, shame burning my cheeks hotter than the red finger marks blooming on my neck. I just wanted to get back to my apartment, lock the door, and wait for my flight out of this hell.

But I never made it home.

As I turned onto my quiet street, a black van screeched to a halt beside me. The side door slid open, and two large men jumped out. Before I could scream, a hand clamped over my mouth, and another arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me off my feet.

I was thrown into the back of the van. The door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. A sharp blow to the back of my head, and then, nothing.

I woke up to the shock of icy water hitting my face.

I sputtered, gasping, my eyes stinging. The world was a blurry, dim mess. I was in some kind of abandoned warehouse, the air smelling of rust and decay. My hands were tied behind my back to a metal chair.

A low, sleazy chuckle echoed in the vast space. "Well, look who's finally awake."

I blinked, trying to clear my vision. Two men stood before me, their faces obscured by the shadows.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I demanded, my voice trembling.

"You pissed off the wrong person, lady," the first man said. He was holding a long, thin whip. He ran it through his grubby hands. "And now, it's time for your punishment."

Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through my daze.

"This is kidnapping! It's illegal!" I tried to sound strong, but my voice came out as a pathetic squeak.

The second man laughed. He dipped the end of the whip into a bucket of what looked like saltwater. "We're just following orders. A little lesson for a jealous bitch who tried to harm our boss's girl."

My heart stopped. "Your boss?"

The whip whistled through the air before I could process his words. It struck my back with incredible force.

A scream ripped from my throat. The pain was immediate, a searing, white-hot line of agony. The saltwater they'd doused the whip in made it a hundred times worse, a chemical fire spreading under my skin.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming again, tasting blood.

"Who sent you?" I gasped, tears streaming down my face. "Was it... was it Conrad Ellison?"

The man holding the whip grinned, a flash of yellow teeth in the gloom. "The boss is a smart man. He knew you'd try to play the victim after your little stunt. This is for hurting Miss Leonard."

The world tilted. Conrad. He had ordered this. Because he thought I'd hurt Kassidy. The man who had been my light, my savior, had just hired men to torture me.

The whip came down again, and again, and again. I lost count. My back was a shredded mess of raw flesh. Each lash was a fresh wave of agony, pulling me under.

They recorded it. One of them held up a phone, the flash blinding me. "Scream louder," he taunted. "The boss wants to hear it."

I screamed until my throat was raw, until I had no voice left.

At some point, the pain became too much, and my body gave up. I slumped forward in the chair, my consciousness fading into a blessed, black numbness.

I don't know how long I was out. When I came to, I was on the cold concrete floor, untied. The men were gone. They had just left me there, a broken heap in the darkness.

I was burning up. A fever was raging through me, my body's desperate attempt to fight off the infection that was surely setting into my wounds.

Then I heard it. A faint, tinny ringing.

My phone. They'd left my purse on the floor a few feet away.

A desperate surge of adrenaline shot through me. I had to get to it.

I began to crawl. Every movement sent lightning bolts of pain up my spine. The torn skin on my back scraped against the rough concrete, and a fresh scream tore from my raw throat.

But I kept going, my eyes fixed on the purse. It was my only hope.

My fingers, clumsy and shaking, finally closed around the strap. I pulled it toward me, fumbling inside until I felt the cool, smooth surface of my phone.

The screen lit up with Helene's face. She was calling me.

With a sob of relief, I swiped to answer, my hand leaving a bloody smear on the screen.

"Abby? Where have you been? Are you okay? Did you book your flight?" Her voice was a torrent of worried questions.

I opened my mouth to answer, to scream for help, but only a weak, croaking sound came out.

"Help... me..."

And then the darkness swallowed me whole.