Well. Except just now.
But really, I haven’t thought about him in at least an hour.
After I finish my assignment, I push back from my desk and stretch, my muscles protesting. I shut my laptop, grab the trash bag from the kitchen bin, and head out.
The courtyard is quiet, dimly lit by flickering streetlights. Shadows stretch long across the pavement. I walk down the steps with the bag swinging lightly at my side, the cool night air brushing against my skin.
I barely make it three steps.
A gloved hand clamps over my mouth from behind.
My scream dies in my throat.
Another arm locks around my waist and yanks me off balance, lifting me clean off the ground. Panic detonates inside me. I kick, flail, try to twist free, but the grip is iron, practiced. Controlled.
There’s more than one of them.
Three men move in perfect sync. No shouting. No hesitation. One secures my wrists. Another presses something soft but suffocating between my teeth, muffling every sound. My vision disappears as fabric is pulled over my head.
Darkness.
My heart slams against my ribs as I’m carried forward, my feet barely grazing the ground. I hear the soft click of a door opening. Smell leather. Oil. Cold air.
A vehicle.
A black SUV.
I’m shoved inside. The door closes. Locks engage.
My wrists are bound tighter. My head spins. I strain to hear—catch fragments. Low voices. Calm. Efficient. Someone murmurs into a comms device, tone flat, professional.
This isn’t random.
This isn’t a mugging. Not panic-driven. Not sloppy. Not desperate.
This is planned.
A coordinated extraction.
The engine starts. The SUV pulls away from the curb.
I try to breathe. Try to think. Try to tell myself someone will notice I’m gone. That Ellie will come looking. That this will end with sirens and explanations and relief.
But fear floods every rational thought.
Different scenarios crash through my mind in brutal succession.
I’ll be tortured.
I’ll disappear.
I’ll die tonight.
Probably.
The vehicle picks up speed.
Whoever took me knows exactly what they’re doing.