I try Roman again. Voicemail.
I end the call and drop my phone into my lap. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Crying won’t help; it’ll just make my face cold and wet on top of everything else.
I’m going to have to start walking soon, I realize. In heels. In the dark. On a deserted road. It’s not safe, but neither is staying here until I freeze.
I’m about to slip my phone back into my purse when headlights appear in the distance, cutting through the darkness. My heart leaps. Maybe it’s Roman. Maybe he got my messages after all. I sit up straighter, squinting to make out the approaching vehicle. As it gets closer, my hopes plummet. It’s not Roman’s motorcycle. It’s a pickup truck, large and dark.
The truck slows as it approaches my car, and something about it sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature. It pulls to a stop about twenty feet behind me, high beams blinding in my rearview mirror.
I can’t see who’s inside. Can’t make out anything beyond the glare of those lights. But a feeling of dread washes over me, so powerful it makes my hands shake.
This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong.
I slide down in my seat, making myself as small as possible. Maybe they won’t notice me. Maybe they’ll think the car is abandoned and drive on. My heart hammers against my ribs, so loud I’m sure whoever is out there can hear it. I fumble for my phone with trembling fingers, hitting Roman’s number again. Straight to voicemail.
“Roman,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Roman, please. Someone’s here. I’m scared. Please call me back. Please—”
The truck’s engine cuts off. A door opens and slams shut.
I hear footsteps crunching on gravel, approaching my car. I hang up and dial 911, my fingers slipping on the screen.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a woman’s calm voice answers.
“I’m on County Road 16,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “My car broke down, and there’s someone—”
A shadow falls across my window. I look up to see a figure looming there, face obscured by a ski mask. The door handle rattles as they try to open it. Thank God I locked the doors.
“Someone’s trying to get into my car,” I gasp into the phone. “Please send help, I—”
“Ma’am, can you give me a more specific location?” the operator asks. “Are there any landmarks nearby?”
The figure moves away from the window. I crane my neck, trying to see where they’ve gone. “I’m right across the street from the—”
There’s a sudden, deafening crash as something smashes into the passenger window. Glass shatters, spraying across the seats. I scream, dropping the phone, instinctively covering my face with my arms.
“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you there?” The operator’s voice sounds tiny and far away.
Before I can reach for the phone, a gloved hand snakes through the broken window, unlocking the door. It swings open, letting in a rush of cold air.
“No!” I scream, kicking out, trying to push myself to the other side of the car. “Get away from me!”
A hand grabs my ankle, yanking hard. I scrabble for purchase, my fingers clawing at the seat, the dashboard, anything. But I’m dragged inexorably toward the open door.
“Help!” I shriek. “Somebody help me!”
My attacker says nothing, just keeps pulling. I kick with my free leg, my heel connecting with something solid. There’s a grunt of pain, then a muttered curse. The grip on my ankle loosens for a split second.
I lunge for the steering wheel, trying to pull myself forward, away from those hands. But then there are arms around my waist, dragging me bodily from the car.
I’m thrown to the ground, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. Before I can recover, a boot presses into my back, pinning me down. I try to scream again, but a cloth is shoved into my mouth, gagging me.
Rough hands grab my wrists, binding them behind my back with something that bites into my skin. Zip ties, maybe. My ankles are next, tied so tightly I can feel my circulation being cut off.
Everything is happening too fast. My head is spinning, panic making it hard to think. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
Then, a bag is pulled over my head, plunging me into darkness. I can’t see. Can’t breathe. Can’t scream. The cloth in my mouth is choking me, and I gag, terrified I’ll vomit and suffocate.
I’m lifted off the ground as if I weigh nothing, thrown over a shoulder like a sack of flour. My kidnapper — oh God, I’m being kidnapped — carries me a short distance, then dumps me unceremoniously into what must be the back of the pickup.