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As I scrambled to gather my belongings, something bit the side of my neck, and everything went black.
I remained in this position until dizziness made my head spin.
When I regained my senses, I realized the ground beneath me was too soft to be soil or rocks.
I was fairly certain I was lying on a bed.
I grimaced as I shifted positions, ending up on my right side with my hands under my head, a bit of drool at the corner of my mouth. The heaviest and warmest cover I had ever experienced enveloped me like a heated, silky cloud. This was the most comfortable bed ever. I never wanted to leave this place or get up.
I hummed softly as my legs brushed against the silky fabric.
I must have drifted back to sleep because the warmth of a hand gently caressing my left cheek slowly woke me and compelled me to open my eyes.
Dizziness first overtook me, making me blink several times until my vision cleared and I saw the most malevolent gaze in history.
Our eyes locked in an unbearable tension.
I quickly stood up, threw off the white covers, and got out of bed.
Fear and hatred gripped me like ice-cold water. I looked down and was somewhat relieved to see that I was still in the same clothes and had no visible signs of physical harm.
I checked my wrists and hands, brushed my hair from my face, and patted my jeans pockets in search of my phone.
“Are you looking for this?” The man asked, holding up my precious phone in his right hand and then slipping it back into the pocket of his dark blazer as I tried to reach for it.
“How did you sleep? Good, I assume. I didn’t expect the drugs to keep you out for that long,” he said, thoughtfully scratching his chin. “You were out for eight hours! I’ll be more careful next time.”
I stared at him in shock, trying to process what was happening.
This man seemed insane—like he had just escaped from a mental hospital.
A sudden buzz in my ears and the movement of the floor beneath my bare feet snapped me out of my thoughts. Confused and disoriented, I looked around, taking in my surroundings.
I saw an unmade queen-sized bed with white silky covers and two small wooden nightstands on either side. Two medium-sized portholes were partially open, letting golden rays of sunshine into the room. Another shift of the floor made me realize we were in an airplane.
Oh my god! We are in a freaking plane!
If I was afraid when I first woke up, now I am petrified.
The realization hit me: I was probably being abducted by a shady organization involved in human trafficking, where I’d be drugged, stripped, beaten, and sold to deranged people.
My breath faltered, and I feared a heart attack. The movie Taken had never felt more real. Sweat dripped down my forehead and back, my hands and legs shivering uncontrollably. I hugged myself, seeking some sense of security and hoping Liam Neeson would rescue me—after his daughter, of course.
“W-Who are you?”
The man’s footsteps made me lift my head, and I stumbled backward until my back hit the cabin wall. His expression darkened as he stood inches from me, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of my head.
He smirked. “It didn’t matter who I was yesterday when you were grinding on my dick like a greedy virgin, so why should it matter now, huh?”
If my hands had been free, I would have slapped that smile off his face.
A deep sense of shame and heaviness filled my lungs as his words sank in, and tears began to fall silently down my cheeks.
“Maybe we should do that again. I think that’s the best way to shut you up.” He closed the distance between us, gripping my hips with both of his rough hands.
What a jerk!
“You don’t understand personal space, do you?” I snapped as I tried to slip out of his tight grip. I struggled to push him away but quickly gave up. Fighting was useless—his hold was too strong, barely allowing me to breathe.
