His Sweet Victim

I eagerly bounce up and down in front of my parents, both seated at our large, marble island counter, having breakfast before work. My father barely blinks at me, as he continues to read the newspaper, his dark brown hair, slightly greying around the edges, combed back neatly.

"Yes, Ava?" My mother finally asks, setting her utensils down and smiling gently at me.

"There is a comic convention in San Francisco this weekend, I was wondering if I could please borrow one of the cars to go," I whip out the flyer and push it at her, begging her with my eyes.

"Ava, you haven't even turned 18 years old yet and can barely drive to school. I hardly think you can handle driving alone to San Francisco," my father mutters, still not taking his eyes away from the paper.

"I won't be alone, Sebastian will be coming with me," I say, but continue to plead with my mother. She frowns and goes to open her mouth.

"We'll think about it. For now, get ready for school, and make sure you have everything ready for the opening of your mother's new line tonight at the charity event."

With that said, my hopes are crushed. I know he isn't going to think about it, all he cares about is the party. My mother owns a rather successful line of jewelry and is releasing a brand-new line of male and female wedding rings, along with a Fall set of necklaces and bracelets. Half of the proceeds will be going to help various disaster victims around the world.

It is a noble cause, but my father only cares about looking good in public and keeping up the family name. If it was up to me, I would be attending the small community college in San Francisco, to study Art. Instead, I am attending a private University, to study Law and Business, so I can one day take over the family business.

Tossing the flyer in the trash, I trudge upstairs to prepare for morning class. I have a mock trial this morning, and I can barely remember which character I am playing. I can already tell it is going to be a long day. Just one more year, and I will be free of school, and maybe have a bit more freedom than I'm letting myself believe when I take over the family business.

Either way, I know in my heart, it isn't what I want to do. But at the same time, I love my parents, and everything they have done for me. I would never want to let them down, either.

I text Sebastian and tell him not to get his hopes up. He messages back with a sad face. I wonder how much a train, or maybe even a bus ride would be. I don't have money, or a job, since my tuition is paid for by my parents, and they put money on my student card every semester to get food and stuff. Other than that, I don't have my own spending money a whole lot, unless it's for my birthday. But by that point, everything would be over, and there would be no point in the effort anymore. For once, I want my parents to take an interest in mine, not what they want mine to be.

I will never be their perfect daughter, someone they can shape and mould into a socialite icon, heiress to their vast fortune – blah, blah blah. I hate it all. They say money can't buy you happiness, they were right. There are several things money cannot buy you; happiness is just one of the hard ones.

My parents have more than enough money to keep my family thriving for generations, even I wouldn't have to work with the money they already supply for me. It isn't enough to purchase a decent car or keep up with the insurance payments, on top of a phone and other personal splurging. But it is enough that without that, I could do whatever I want; go on shopping sprees, have a girl's night out downtown. But I never wanted any of those things, I was a pretty simple teenager growing up. I never wanted fancy things or had expensive taste in clothes or personal items.

Yet my parents never gave me the things I wanted, like the convention. It was the one big thing I had asked of them in quite some time since I was 15, and I had asked to stay out late to attend a local concert by my favourite band in the park. I had only asked to stay out until midnight, but I knew at my age, and the area we lived in, that was pushing it.

My father had of course said no, making claims that I was a high risk for kidnapping since I was worth a lot of money in ransom. It is no secret how wealthy my family is, everyone in town knows about it, and people had often tried to kidnap my mother when she was a little older than I was, to ransom for a large sum of money, since they knew my family could afford it.

But I am almost 18 and have gone out with friends on our many times but have never come close to it. My father had once even said that the few times my mother had been kidnapped when she was younger, the police were quick to put an end to it and find her before any money was exchanged. I had a feeling the crooks understood, our family is too wealthy to be bribed even.

I slowly make my way to school, mulling over all the stupid things my parents have me do; the constant dinner and cocktail parties they make me attend, the dreadful charity events where no one focuses on the worthy cause, just the money it is making, and who receives the left-over funds once half of the donations are split. I have discovered quite a few despicable things, being a quiet, watchful child in the corner of the room, about what goes on behind the scenes of big-name events and businesses.

I message Sebastian and tell him to meet me in the park after classes, I don't want to go home right away. He always knows how to cheer me up, without even trying. Just being around him, his presence alone is enough to make anyone brighten from their gloomy mood. He is an overly friendly guy, but not enough to make a person feel uncomfortable unless they are extremely shy. I had bad social anxiety when I was younger, and I still kind of do, but Sebastian helped me move past it a little when we met.

His smile and kind words were enough to win me over, and we have become the best of friends ever since. He is my rock when it comes to dealing with my home life, he knows the right things to say and, the right things to do, to make me forget whatever is upsetting me.

I was halfway down the pebbled path to school, when the sense of someone watching me washes over me, like intense ocean waves. The feeling is strong like the person is standing just a few feet away from me, their presence overpowering me. But when I turn, there is no one there, as suspected. I am paranoid for no reason. What's wrong with me? I shake off the alarming feeling and continue down the path, my pace a little more rushed.

The feeling washes over me again, but this time, I'm a few feet away from the door. I burst through the small bush-covered path at the end and try not to look like a maniac on speed as I run towards the main building. The feeling disappeared completely once I'm gathered in the thick crowd of students. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and check the time to make sure I have enough of it to put my things away in the school's locker.

I try my best to focus on my lectures, but I can't stop thinking about the weird feeling I felt earlier. Was I just being paranoid, or had someone been watching me? My mind is swirling; I barely notice when the professor dismisses the class. I shake my head lightly and gather up my things in a daze.

I am thankful when my lectures are all finally done for the day, but I'm weary about walking home again, looking at the now slightly darkened path, as the sun begins to set, leaving an ominous orange glow to light my way. Autumn is in fast approach, as I feel the weather grow a little colder without the rays of the sun beating down.

Just as I pull out my phone, a text arrives from Sebastian, saying he is on his way to the park to meet me. I remember there is a different path that wraps around the usual way I take. It's a little longer, but it's more public than the small path through the forest behind my house that I always take as a short cut to and from school. The park is between, but I am willing to go the extra mile or two to avoid the feeling I endured earlier. My paranoia is too high, probably due to all the crap my father filled my head with.

Why did parents make growing up seem so terrifying? I understand that some parents never want their kids to grow out of the baby phase, except maybe without the crying and constant pooping, but I never saw my parents as that type. They always pushed me to act more mature than I was. It was like they wanted me to grow up too fast, but still wanted to terrify me into staying young.

I pop my headphones in to try and clear my mind as I walk to meet Sebastian. When I reach the street, I am thankful the feeling hasn't returned, and I feel my body and mind relax a little. I start getting into my music when I turn down another dirt path, leading directly to the park. I could make out the dark silhouette of Sebastian, sitting on one of the park benches.

Just as I reach for my headphones to remove them, my wrists are seized behind me, and someone slaps their hand over my mouth to muffle my shocked cries. They whisper something in my ear, but my surprise and fear are so high, my hearing deafens as they drag me back towards the street. I try to squirm and cry out for Sebastian, make any indication for him to turn around. The glove covered hand is too big for me to make any noise.

I react without thinking and try to bite down hard on their index finger through the leather material. I cheer silently when the attacker cries out and removes their hand.

"Sebastian!" I scream as loud as my lungs are able too, and his head whips around just as the attacker recovers, and grabs hold of me again. Sebastian darts across the grass towards me, but before he can reach the path, I'm shoved in the back of what seems like a van, and a bag is thrown over my head.

"Ava!" I hear him yell, just as a large door slams shut, and the vehicle jerks alive. I feel it veer to the left as if tearing away from the side of the road and rushing into traffic. Faint sounds of angry horns can be heard, and the squeals of tires as we continue to jerk left and right. There are no seats in the back of the vehicle, I try to feel around for anything that can help me before I reach for the bag.

"I don't think so," someone whispers softly, though their tone is harsh. I am taken aback by the slight accent I hear, but their voice is too quiet for me to identify it. They sound like a boy no older than me. He grabs my hands and ties them in front of me with thick rope. I know if I tried to wiggle my wrists out, I was going to cause my skin to bleed and burn.

"Damn, that bloody hurt," another voice grumbles, farther away this time.

"You alright, mate?" How many people were there? Three people it seems in total, all male from what I can hear. The bag made it almost impossible to make anything out clearly, even after my ears had stopped ringing. I recognize their accents, however. They sound British, at least the last two men who had spoken. I still can't recognize the first one, but it sounds almost familiar. Australian? Scottish?

Why the hell did it matter? They just kidnapped me! After all these years of criticizing my father for trying to scare me, it turns out he was right. I think back to the feeling I had before like someone was watching me. I hadn't been paranoid; it must have been these men.

"Girl bit my finger, even through these gloves. I think she broke the skin," the second man continues to mutter in complaint. I smile triumphantly under the bag. Serves him right. I'm glad I had at least called out to Sebastian, he can tell my parents right away what happened, and maybe he even saw what the men look like. The man who attacked me came out from behind me, I never got a look at any of their faces before I was blinded by the bag.

But what if he hadn't?

What am I going to do once they reach their destination?

Where is their destination?

I have no sense of time, but it feels like it has been at least a half hour of silence, the vehicle not stopping for more than 5 minutes for a light or maybe a stop sign. I huddle against the cold metal side and keep my head down and knees drawn in, afraid of any of them touching me again. I don't know where any of them are, and if there are only three of them. So far, no one else has spoken or moved around me. I only sense one person near me.

"Maybe we should take the bag off," the first man says. "We're out of the city, and there aren't any windows back here. What is she going to do?"

"Is she tied up?" The second man asks. There is silence. "Alright, you're going to pay for it if anything happens, anyway."

I wait anxiously, until I feel someone's fingers brush my collarbone, and lift the bag off my head. I blink from the harsh light that pours through the front of the van, trying to adjust to everything around me. I can see now that I am in a large, extended van, the back is entirely empty with no windows, not even in the back, except for the windshield and two windows on the driver and passenger doors.

There are only three men in the van, as I predicted. The man seated in front of me had a gentle face, with bright blonde hair and glistening green eyes. He is smiling kindly at me, but I'm falling for it. There are two other men seated up front, but I can't see the driver from where I am seated, and the man in the passenger seat is turned away from me, I can see he has dark chestnut brown hair, thick and wavy.

"What do you want from me?" I ask quietly.

"The famous question everyone asks," the blonde-haired man says, his smile never faltering. "You look like a smart girl; I think you can figure out the just of our motives on your own." The more he spoke, the more I recognized his accent. Irish. Where in the world have these guys come from? It doesn't seem like they are from around Los Angeles, the man in front of me is dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and black dress pants, looking very professional for a kidnapper. Most of them are wearing black clothing, like turtlenecks and black jeans, or a ski mask to cover their faces.

These guys look like they have just come from a banquet ball or fancy party, not out to kidnap someone off the street. What is their motive if they aren't your average kidnappers? Is it really only money they wanted?

"Got nothing to say now?" The man in the passenger seat asks harshly. "Maybe she isn't as smart as you thought." He still doesn't turn his head towards me, his tone clipped and emotionless. What a charmer.

"I'm Lucas, by the way," the blonde-haired man says, his smile widening. "I already know your name, of course."

"Why would you tell her that? You never give away personal information about yourself to a victim, let alone your goddamn name," the man driving growls at him. Lucas bites his lip and mutters something under his breath. He looks at me, his expression hard. Have these guys ever kidnapped anyone before? What are they playing at?

I remain quiet and try to get a look out one of the windows up front, to get a sense of where we are. Just as I try to lift myself up a little, the van comes to a halt, and nearly sends me flying into the front seat. Lucas jumps up and slides the side door open. I wait for him to reach back and grab me, instead, he just grabs a duffle bag. I yelp when the metal side gives out, and I'm flying backwards.

I land softly in someone's arms, but I need to blink a few times against the harsh light before I can make out their features. My heart stops for a second when I finally look up at them, and I am met with striking blue eyes. They are a kind of colour that would make even the clearest of oceans feel jealous, so intense they make you stop in your tracks. I recognize his hair as the brown-haired man from the front. He has high cheekbones, lightly tanned skin, and full, soft-looking lips.

"We're staying here for the night," he says quietly, with the same emotionless tone. I realize his eyes hold no emotion either like he is a robot. He places me down and immediately grabs hold of my arm. I look around us and start to panic when I see we are surrounded by nothing but a thick, endless forest.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Don't worry about it," the man answers, continuing to drag me along a dirt path until a large wood cabin breaks through the trees. This is it. I am going to die in that cabin. They are going to lock me up and do God knows what to me. I try to wrestle against his grip, but it's no use, his hand is like iron.

"The less you struggle, the easier this will be," he mutters and harshly yanks me up the stairs. "Do you have everything for the night?" he asks and turns to Lucas. That only confirms my fears, as he holds up the heavy-looking duffle bag. I can only imagine the insane type of killing tools that they have brought with them.

I cursed myself for never listening to my father, and insisting I didn't need to be escorted by bodyguards everywhere I went. It was only going to draw unwanted attention to myself whenever I wanted to go out. But look at how much good that has done me. He was right all along. I wonder if he knew by now if I had been kidnapped if Sebastian had phoned the police as soon as we took off. Knowing him, he had called them as he raced to my parents.

The man continues to drag me down a narrow hallway and throws me into a room that is decorated like a bedroom, with very minimal furniture. There is nothing other than a plain wooden bed, with a white duvet and pillowcases, a matching dresser and bookcase, with no books. Before I can take in my surroundings entirely, the door slams and a heavy lock falls.

I am left alone, my hands still tied, sitting on the dust-covered floor. I struggle to lift myself up and rush to the window, only to be disappointed when I see it is barred with a thick, metal cage around the entire outside, and inside. It's like this place is made to be a murder/kidnap shack. It is in the perfect location, and is built for keeping someone in, it seemed. I spin around and sit on the bed, thinking over all my life choices, and deciding if I have lived a respectable and happy life before it ends. Just as the panic has completely settled in, the lock is removed and the door creeps open.

Lucas pops his head in, a small frown on his face. "The least he could have done was untie you," he mutters and walks towards me. I scramble off the bed and back against the wall, trying to get as far away from him as possible. His frown deepens as he puts his hands up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. In fact, we kind of need you alive, for this all to work. We kidnapped you for a ransom, can't get it if we deliver you back dead." He has a point, and here I am making sure my life is worth it before it ends. They need me alive to make the exchange for the ransom, what am I thinking?

He cautiously walks closer and motions to my hands. I hold them out and he swiftly cuts them loose with his pocket knife. Once the rope is removed, he takes several steps back, easing my angst.

"I'm just here to check on you, make sure you aren't dehydrated or starving. We aren't criminals, though we are committing a pretty hefty crime, we don't want to treat you like a dirt prisoner. There's a bathroom through the door there," he says, and motions to a closed door I hadn't noticed before on the far left of the room. "If you want to clean up, I'm sorry we don't have any clothes for you, but I brought clean towels and food and drinks for us tonight."

I watch as he walks over to the door and grabs the duffle bag from earlier. He rummages around in it until he pulls out neatly wrapped sandwiches, bottled water, and fluffy white towels. He hands them to me in an organized pile, the same kind of smile from before.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I ask.

"Like I said, we just want money from your family, and unfortunately you are the best way to get what we want. I can't reveal much, but all I can say is we're taking orders, and those orders are to not harm you in any way."

Following orders? What kind of kidnap mission is this? It seems much more planned and professional than what my father has told me. He warned me about being tortured, or possibly losing a body part. Not tasty sandwiches and fluffy towels.

"I'll let you relax, especially after the night we put you through. One of us will be back later to guard you for the night, or get you something if you need it," Lucas says. I feel he added the last part to be nice, but it doesn't work. I am going to have someone watching me while I sleep. Regardless of why, that is still creepy.

He backs out of the room, and my mood plummets again when the lock clicks shut. I frown down at the food in my hands and toss it on the bed. I wander into the bathroom, and I am amazed at how beautiful and cozy it is, given the situation I am in. The entire room is made of wood, like the rest of the place, but has tiled marble flooring, and a pristine white bathtub, that looks more like an inside hot tub than anything.

I allow a small part of me to get excited, but it is quickly extinguished with fear when I remember the men who occupy the house along with me, and how they have access to the room, but I don't have access to leave. Do I really want to get naked, and try and bath here? Despite the glorious tub in front of me, I have to be aware of my surroundings and keep on my toes. What Lucas said could have been all lies.

I need to find a way out, not soak myself in a jet tub. He is trying to distract me by lowering my guard. I toss the towel on the rack by the door and walk out. I look at the food on the bed once again, and as if on cue, my stomach growls from hunger. I hadn't had the chance to meet up with Sebastian and grab a bite to eat after classes. The sandwich is looking pretty good, even if they have somehow poisoned it.

I ignore my instincts and bite off a large piece of the sandwich, washing it down instantly with the water. The seal isn't broken, which means there is a possibility they haven't put anything in the water. After my first bite, I wait a few seconds to see if anything happens, before I take another one. After another few large bites, the sandwich is gone.

After a few minutes, nothing happens. No inner stomach pain or whatever happens when you poison someone. I felt perfectly fine, and the chicken sandwich was delicious. I take a few more sips of water, before I go into full genius mode, as much as my brain will allow me to. I try to take in every surrounding near me, to see if maybe I can figure a way out of here.

The lock lifts again, this time the door swinging open instantly. The blue-eyed man from before charges into the room, slamming the door shut on his way in, and stands menacingly in the middle. He glares down at me, saying nothing. I guess he is the one who is guarding me for the night. I gaze back at him, unable to think of something to say. I try not to look directly into his eyes, afraid I'm going to get hypnotized like before.

He has an air around him that makes him seem intimidating, without having to do anything. Though his face is still emotionless, I can see he is tired, either physically or mentally. He walks over to the window and grabs a wooden chair from the corner. He places it a few feet away from the bed and drops down onto it, never taking his eyes off me. I squirm under his gaze, wishing I had stayed in the bathroom.

"I hope the sandwich was enough," he mutters. All I could do was nod in response, unable to speak due to my closed throat. His presence is unnerving and makes me almost sick to my stomach with fear I have never experienced before. Being afraid that IT is going to jump out and snatch your feet up from the gutter is one thing: a fictional fear.

This is all too real, and all he asked about was a sandwich. Why bother being nice to me? If I get out of this alive, I am taking their asses straight to jail, and I will do it by any means necessary. My parents have high-end lawyers, who can get the best detective team on them to catch them for their crime. There is no point in trying to succeed at whatever they are playing at.

"I thought you were going to be a chatty one, I'm kind of glad you're not, but you can at least tell me if it was satisfying. Like Lucas probably gushed to you, we aren't here to hurt you, we actually have specific orders to do exactly that, and make sure you feel comfortable until we can deliver you to my employer."

Employer?

For some reason, that term sends a shiver down my spine. If he isn't the worst to come, who else am I going to face?

"Have you done this before?" I finally ask, lifting my gaze to meet his intense blue eyes. Like before, I am instantly sucked into them, lost in a sea of blue waters. He can kill someone with those eyes.

"Kidnapped a person?" he asks, and I nod. "No, this is my first time doing this job."

"What other jobs do you do?" What am I asking? I am going to spend however much time with these people, I might as well try and squeeze some information out of them, for when I put them behind bars. I need material to testify against them, and I am usually good at remembering specific details.

"Do you really think I'm going to fall for that?" he snorts, for once showing fleeting emotion on his face, though his eyes remain blank. His smile quickly disappears, as fast as it had appeared, and he narrows his cat-like eyes at me. He reminds me of a lion, ready to pounce.

Damn it. There's no pulling the wool over this guy's eyes.

"I'm stuck with you until you get what you want, I'm just trying to make conversation," I try to argue, but he doesn't budge and goes back to being silent and watching my every move. I look around until I find an old-school alarm clock sitting on the dresser. The red numbers flash that it is almost midnight. How long had we been driving? How far away from home are we?

I see no other option, than to try and sleep, despite the creep sitting in the room. I walk over to the door, his eyes trailing after me, to shut off the light. It left the only light in the room to be the glow of the moonlight from the barred window. It makes a caged shadow on the floor, right where I stop standing. My heart starts to pound, as the ironic shadows dance around me. My blood is rushing in my ears, the high-pitched ringing from before back, it blocks my hearing. My hands start to tremble, and my body suddenly feels weak.

What's happening?

I panic as I crumble to the floor, streams of tears flowing down my flaming-hot cheeks. I lay on the floor, unable to move, as the shadows from the window continued to mock me. I am trapped. There is no escaping this, and who knows if my parents are even going to give them the money. I know they are going to go straight to the police, but I have already concluded that these criminals aren't like the others; something very bad can happen in the next few days. What am I going to do?

I gasp when strong arms wrap around me and lift me off the ground. My face is buried into a good-smelling silk shirt, and I feel a hard, chiselled chest under my palm. My neck heats up when my brain registers that the man has picked me up. He places me carefully on the bed as if I am going to break if he is too aggressive.

He reaches for the covers and slowly pulls them over me, before I feel his lips at my ear, his soft breath warm against my cheek. I'm shocked when it starts to slowly soothe the ball of panic that has been building in my chest, enabling me to move.

"I'm sorry we're putting you through this, it will all be over soon," he whispers in my ear, before my eyes suddenly feel heavy with exhaustion, and force themselves to close. His presence right next to me still leaves me feeling sick, but the exhaustion is enough to take over my mind and allow it to completely shut down.

When I'm flat on the ground, safe and slightly uninjured, except for the stinging in the bottom of my feet and ankles from the land, I let out another large breath and scramble off the ground. I don't know where I was running, and I don't remember where they had parked the van if I was even on the right side of the cabin, so I just ran into the forest, and prayed it eventually led to a road.

A few feet back, their voices are louder, and I can tell they have realized I'm outside. If I get lost, it's only a matter of time before one of them finds me and drags me back.

Please, God, let me be running towards the road.

Regardless of whether my prayers are going to be answered, I pick up my knees high and keep running as fast and far as I can. Like in most dramatic chase scenes, I don't look where I'm going, and trip right over a fallen tree, heading face-first into the dirt and grass. I cry out when my ankle twists against the wood, stinging even more. It's hopeless to try and run now.

I try to stand and put pressure on it, but pain shoots up my leg, feeling like daggers piercing my bones from the inside. I bite my lip to hold back another cry, hoping I am at least deep enough in the woods, that they won't find me for a while. I limp over to the fallen tree and crouch on the ground behind it, closing my eyes and trying to nurse my foot at least a little, enough to continue running.

My breathing is shallow, telling me I'm not in shape enough to continue running aimlessly, I must try and think of a plan to find my way out before one of them finds me. Something tells me the man who was with me last night is good at tracking people, and he was the first to discover I was gone. He should be close behind me, I'm not a very fast runner, and he is at least 5 foot 10 in height, very tall compared to my short 5-foot-2 body.

I wiggle my toes, happy that it doesn't hurt to move them before I turn my ankle and test it out again. It still hurts to put pressure on it, but now I can put enough to slowly limp and run towards my right. I send another silent prayer that I'm not running right into one of them but know I have to change my direction if I hope to find a sense of where the road is. I stop and lean on trees to catch my breath and give my stronger foot a break from taking most of the pressure.

If I keep stopping like this, they're going to catch up.

I have to keep pushing forward, no matter how much the pain hurts. I push down harder on my foot and continue to bite my lip as I trudge on, much more aware of my surroundings. Just as I started to feel confident that I was getting farther, a voice cried out from behind me.

"Ava don't make this harder than it has to be. If you keep running, I'm going to have to kill you." It's the blue-eyed man, I know it. His threat quickens my pace, but after a few heavy strokes, the pain is too much, and I cry out as I fall to the ground. I begin to panic again when the sounds of running footsteps grow closer, and his face is in front of mine within minutes.

"Are you crazy? Why are you fighting this so much? We aren't going to hurt you, we just want to get to your parents," he growls as he reaches for me.

"Don't touch me!" I scream and try to back away from him. I mistakenly use my sprained foot and can't stop the cry that whimpers out from the pain. His face suddenly turns scared, and he looks me over.

"Where are you hurt? What happened?" he asks, reaching for me again.

"I said don't touch me, I don't want your help," I whimper.

"Please, you're hurt, and I need to know where so I can help take the pain away. I'm not going to hurt you, Ava."

"You said you have to kill me."

He lets out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry, alright? If I don't get you back to my employer without a scratch on you, I'm going to be in major trouble, more than you think you are."

"What makes you think I care about your well-being?" I sneer, still wincing from the shooting pain.

"Can you please just let me help you? I'm taking you back to the cabin, whether you like it or not. Since you're injured, I would much rather do it the easy way," he huffs. He has clearly run more than he thought he could handle. I give myself another silent pat on the back for making him work to catch me, but still curse myself a little for being so blind and tripping like a cliché dumb chick in a horror flick. I would be the first to die.

After contemplating the chances of pushing him to the ground, taking advantage of his weakness, and making a run for it, I also considered the fact that he is just breathless, while I am almost completely unable to walk, let alone take off as fast as I can. I give in to his outstretched hand and allow him to slowly help me off the ground. Before I can test my weight on the sprained ankle, he picks me up swiftly and starts trudging back through the forest.

"Is this really necessary?" I mutter, feeling the blush creep on my face and neck. I am so easily embarrassed, and I always show it.

"You can barely walk; we're never going to make it back if you try and limp the entire way. This is much easier and time efficient. If you hadn't smelt it before, we had bacon and eggs cooking for breakfast, and I would very much like some," he mumbles as he continues his quickened pace over the damp leaves and twigs, covered in fresh morning dew.

I huff but take advantage of not having to put my ankle through any more pain, it's already throbbing enough. We quickly arrive back at the cabin, where Lucas and the other man are waiting on the steps.

"Glad you found her," the other man says. I had a clear view of what he looked like now, and I was surprised to point out the resemblance to the man carrying me almost right away. His eyes aren't as intense as blue, they are a softer, darker colour, but he has the same high cheekbones and chiselled jaw, with slightly lighter hair. He is a little more built, and the amount of facial hair that covers his chin and upper lip told me he might be the older brother if they are related.

"It wasn't easy, she sprained her ankle I think."

"For Christ sake, why did you have to go and do that? I don't think we have anything to tend to that," he complains and throws his hands up.

"Are you two related?" The question flies out of my mouth before it can register. They both look at me incredulously.

"How did you know?" the man carrying me asks.

"You guys kind of look alike," I shrug. They glare at me.

"No, we don't," they exclaim in unison. That gives away that they are siblings and tells me that there's a possibility they didn't get along when they were younger.

"That's Charles," Lucas pipes in and points to the man in front of me. "And that's Ashton, the younger brother." He points to the gorgeous blue-eyed man carrying me. Even his name is handsome in a way. As an avid reader, some names stand out to me, and his name is one of them.

"Lucas, what did I say about revealing personal information?" Ashton growls, still holding me in his arms.

Lucas rolls his eyes. "We cooked her breakfast, and you're carrying her like your God damn wife. The least she can know is your name."

I feel Ashton's arms tense around me before he practically drops me to the ground. I drop to the dirt with a soft thud, thankful I don't land on my ankle in any way, but now my ass hurts.

"You didn't have to do that," Lucas frowns and rushes to help me up. He slings my arm over his shoulder and helps me walk up the stairs into the kitchen. Neatly prepared plates and utensils are laid out on the dining room table, enough for all of us.

"I'm sitting with you?" I ask.

"Of course, we aren't mean people, just committing a mean crime," Lucas says and stops to think what he said over. "If that makes you feel any better," he adds hopefully, dropping me down in one of the chairs gently.

"I can't really say how I feel right now," I murmur. I just tried to escape, but here they are acting like nothing is wrong. In fact, they helped me all the way back, instead of dragging me like a rag doll, and are now feeding me a feast for breakfast. They have everything you could name that you would want to have for breakfast on the table, waffles and pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns. They even have toppings for the waffles and pancakes, like blueberries and cut-up strawberries.

"Is this for real?" I ask, trying to keep my jaw from dropping to the table. I didn't even eat like this at home with my parents, and I thought we had over-the-top breakfasts. That is nothing compared to the whole feast in front of me, I didn't know where to start.

"Too much for you?" Charles asks, already digging into a piece of bacon.

"To be quite honest, a little, and not just the food," I say and frown at everything in front of me. "I don't think most victims get treated like this when they are kidnapped."

"Well, we aren't like most criminals, we're bounty hunters," Ashton says blankly, as if he is talking about the weather.

Bounty hunters? Is he serious?

"Why the hell am I a target?"

"You'll find out when we finally get you back to our employer, so he can explain why he wants you, and what he wants you for. Other than that, we don't know anything other than your name, address, school name and address, and the name of your parents and best friend. Sebastian, is it?" Ashton asks, giving me a wide grin that shakes me to my soul.

"How do you know all of that?" I whisper.

"Like he said, we're bounty hunters. It's our job to know everything about the person we're trying to track down and capture. We followed you for about a week, watching which routes you took to and from school, seeing how often you travelled those paths and how long it took you. It took us only a week to figure out your schedule and see how many times you went to see that friend of yours. We found out his name when you screamed it," Charles says and winks at me, sending another shiver down my spine.

These guys are maniacs and stalkers!