39

SUNDAY

My breath came in thready gasps as I tried to draw in air through the thick black hood tied over my head. By the sounds of Moira struggling beside me and the steady stream of creative insults she hurled at our assailants, I could tell her head was also covered. But she was alive, and knowing that gave me hope. If we were together, we could get out of this.

The van we’d been shoved into before they blinded us came to a rough stop, and I jerked forward, unable to catch myself since my hands were bound behind my back. The silver cuffs burned every time they rubbed against the tender skin of my wrists. I collided with something cool and flat, my head throbbing at the bone-jarring impact. Shit, I was going to have a bruise.

Whoever was driving cut the engine, and the vehicle jostled before two doors slammed shut. This might be our only chance to speak without being overheard. I blinked away the pain and whispered urgently, “Can you get any sense of where we are?”