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“Sure, it’s through the alley out back. Come with me.” He walks out of the room, and we briefly bump into the owner of the butchery.
“Did you find what you’re looking for?” he asks curiously.
“I’m taking her out back to find it. Hopefully, it’s there,” his son says. “We’ll see you shortly.”
“Okay,” the owner says, but something in his eyes worries me. He looks a little paranoid. Maybe because he knows who I am, perhaps I intimidate him.
I feel quite chuffed about that, intimidating someone with my presence and name. People should be scared. My family is powerful.
I follow the son through the narrow corridor toward the back, and he walks out, letting the door close behind him.
Rude.
I follow, and I notice a car parked in the alleyway.
Everything goes dark suddenly when something is yanked over my head. I try to claw at it, and it feels like material, almost like a pillowcase.
I yell out, and I feel something sharp poke into my back. “Keep quiet, or you’re going to get stabbed.”
I struggle against the hands holding me. “You don’t know who you’re messing with, kid. My father is a powerful man.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Emery Sokolov. Such a powerful man.”
“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“Walk down the stairs. There’s three of them.” He pokes me in the back again with a knife, and I carefully feel my way down the stairs.
“Up against the car,” he says and leads me forward. He all but slams me against the car, and I hear something that sounds like a zip tie.
The hold on the pillowcase lessens, but it isn’t loose enough for me to yank it off. He’s tied it closed. Next, he takes my hands and zip-ties them together. I try to resist, but he slams me against the car again.
“No cute games, Elena,” he says. “You best comply, or your father will receive you back in pieces.”
I let him zip-tie my hands, and then I hear a car door opening. He throws me into what I assume is the back seat. His windows must be tinted if he’s not afraid to have me sit in the back. Asshole. How did I get caught like this?
My father will never take me seriously if I don’t get out of this situation.
“Let me go,” I yell, wiggling to sit up. “And maybe my father will spare your life.”
“I don’t fear the Sokolov family, Elena. You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.” I feel and hear the car start even though it’s like a kitten purring. I feel it move and fumble with my clutch purse to get my phone out. Maybe I can dial someone.
If I tip my head at an angle, I can almost see through the fabric.
“Oh no,” the butcher's son says. He takes my phone from me, having reached from the front. “We won’t be having that.”
I hear a window roll down, and I can only assume my phone went for a goodbye journey out of the car.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Why do you want the butchers? What were you looking for back there?” he asks.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I was trying to find out what made that butchery special. That’s why I wanted the files,” I snarl. “If you turn me loose now, your family won’t have to pay for this.”
He doesn’t respond straight away. I didn’t realize a butcher’s son could be some sort of psycho.
“What are you going to do with me?” I ask, trying to maintain my confidence.
“I don’t know yet,” he says with a chuckle. “But it’s going to be fun.”
