Haley

My eyes blinked open, and I immediately closed them, the light somehow too much for me. Why did I feel like I’d been tackled by a grizzly bear?

“¿Estás bien?”

I blinked again and found a young woman hovering over me. Her brows were pinched together with concern, and her mouth was moving too fast for me to process what she was saying. Either that, or the whooshing sound in my ears was drowning out her words.

Sitting up, I instinctively reached for the back of my head and cried out when pain sliced through me. I slammed my eyes shut again as the room started to spin, taking deep breaths to overcome the dizziness and nausea. What the heck happened?

I tried to work backward and struggled to figure out the last thing I could remember. As always, my heart sank as I thought about my fight with the guys. I’d walked away from them at dinner, and Liam had snuck into my room and comforted me. Was that last night? No, two nights ago, I finally decided as memories of being in Chase’s arms flooded me. Today, I’d been at the training center and Kenneth assigned our final projects for his course. Flashes of walking around the abandoned building, and then . . . nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, the young woman sat on a twin mattress across from me and started chattering in Spanish. I couldn’t think fast enough in my disoriented state to translate, but I was able to pick out words that put me instantly on edge. Trapped. Prisoner. Bad men. None of those were encouraging.

My gaze wandered over my body, and I was relieved to find that I was still fully clothed in my Zenith uniform, though my boots were missing. The watch Kenneth gave me remained on my wrist, and it read seven minutes after five. That meant it had only been about an hour. Assuming days hadn’t passed while I’d been unconscious.

When I was feeling more in control, I inspected the room and tried not to freak out. I was in what appeared to be a small bedroom. The lone window was boarded up with two-by-fours, and the door was made of steel with no handle. A camera was mounted in the corner of the ceiling, and brown shag carpet hid stains I didn’t even want to think about. With the windows blocked, no sunlight filtered in and the only light in the room was from a plastic fixture with one bulb.

I had no idea where I was or what was going on, but I was in trouble. More trouble than ever before, and that was saying something.

Now that I was able to really look at the young woman across from me, I was struck by her beauty despite her baggy clothes, lack of makeup, and hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. She had dark, almost black hair and brown eyes a shade lighter that were framed by impossibly long lashes. Her dimples were so prominent that the grooves in her cheeks stood out even though there was no trace of a smile on her face.

“Where are we?” When she didn’t immediately respond, I realized she probably didn’t understand me. Although I could force myself to converse with her in Spanish, my head was throbbing so much, I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well. “¿Habla inglés?”

“Un poco.”

A little. Thank god. “I’m Haley. What’s your name?”

“Carmen.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Can you tell me where we are?”

I held my breath as I waited for her reply. Part of me didn’t want to know. The other part was trying to convince myself that I was in the middle of an elaborate Zenith training exercise. As much as I hoped that would be the result, my instincts told me this was something else. Something much worse.

She blinked back tears. “I don’t know.”

Tempted to hyperventilate, I forced myself to breathe normally. Think logically, Haley. This is what you’ve been training for.

“Do you know if we’re in San Jose?”

She shook her head.

“California?” My mind rejected the idea that I’d been unconscious for more than an hour, but I had to ask.

“Es posible,” she admitted, pulling her knees into her chest. “I hear a man with, uh . . .” She held her hands up in what was easily the international symbol for a handgun, and my heart sank even deeper to the ground.

“Gun?”

She nodded. “Man with gun say Disneyland. In California, sí?”

“Sí.”

That news gave me only the slightest bit of relief. The gun-carrying man probably wasn’t suggesting a trip to Disneyland, so who knew why he’d mentioned it. It was more important to figure out what day it was. Did my kidnappers drug me or just knock me out? Considering the knot on the back of my head and my current wooziness, I probably had at least a minor concussion, but I couldn’t tell if there were drugs lingering in my system.

“Do you know what day it is?”

She shook her head.

“How long have I been here?”

“Una hora, más o menos.”

An hour. That seemed like a good thing. Relatively, at least.

Carmen apologized for speaking in Spanish, and I assured her it was okay. Though my head was still pounding like a giant anvil had smashed into it, I was now alert enough to translate. If she spoke slowly. Very slowly.

I wanted to know more from her, but my immediate concern was escape. With every bit of strength I could muster, I stood, then bent over as the urge to vomit hit me hard. Yeah, I definitely have a concussion.

Knowing my effort would be in vain, I walked the few steps to the door and pushed against it with my full body weight. Nothing. I marched over to the window and groaned as I realized there was a layer of plywood attached to the interior of the frame, in addition to the two-by-fours bolted to the wall. Why couldn’t they have been attached with rusty nails? I pulled on one of the boards out of desperation and only managed to get a splinter since it didn’t budge one little bit.

Trapped was right. The only way out of this room was through the door, which meant I needed to know more. When would the door open next, and who would be on the other side?

“Carmen, I need you to tell me everything.”

She looked hesitant, so I switched to Spanish and pleaded with her. I explained that I would do everything in my power to get us out of there, but I needed her help. That seemed to convince her, because she launched into her story. And with every word that I translated, my hope of getting out of this predicament dwindled.

A little over a week ago, in her small hometown in Mexico, Carmen had been approached by a well-dressed man who offered a chance to start over in the United States. He explained that he moved from Mexico to California as a young man and had slowly built up a successful hotel chain. Because he wanted others to have the same opportunities he’d had, he was looking for people to come work in his hotel. He promised safe passage across the border, a good-paying job, and a place to live.

She had been reluctant at first—it sounded too good to be true—but eventually she caved. He seemed so reputable and interested in helping her, she believed it had to be better than her current situation.

The next day, she and four other females, ranging in age from seventeen to thirty-five, were transported through Mexico and smuggled across the border in a cramped trailer pulled by a truck. Although they hadn’t been treated well by the two men driving the truck, the women assumed that was normal behavior for such a risky operation. It wasn’t until they arrived at the house that Carmen started to understand that she’d been lied to. The guards wouldn’t tell her anything, but she no longer believed she would be given the hotel job and apartment as promised.

Once she finished her story, I lay back on the mattress and closed my eyes, wishing the pain away. It was difficult to focus when it felt like a thousand tiny needles were poking into my head, face, and eyes. Still, I tried to put the pieces together. It sounded like my kidnappers were involved in some type of human trafficking, but that didn’t explain why I’d been taken. Apart from being female, I didn’t appear to have anything in common with the others.

All I knew was that I needed to take advantage of any opportunity to escape.

Rolling to my side, I asked Carmen, “Have they been giving you food?”

“Sí.”

“Three times a day?”

She nodded.

“You’ve had two meals today?”

She nodded again.

That meant the door would be opening within a few hours. I was too weak to wait in position, and they would likely notice me on the camera and expect an attack, anyway. Instead, once I was feeling a little better, I would sit up with my feet planted on the ground and be ready to spring into action as soon I heard the lock. Although there were a number of unknown quantities, I had to believe that taking a guard by surprise might actually work.

In the meantime, I grilled my cellmate about everything she’d observed and done since arriving at the house. She told me she’d seen three different male guards at different times of the day, all carrying guns. One would open the door at mealtime and slide food and a bottle of water in the room before escorting her to the bathroom. Thankfully, they allowed her to mostly close the door and waited outside, something I hoped would continue.

The rest of the time, she’d been stuck in this room, alone and incredibly scared. I watched her demeanor change as I coaxed information out of her. What started as despair was transforming into hope, little by little, and I didn’t want to let her down.

When I heard the distinct sound of metal sliding on the other side of the door, I jumped to my feet, cursing as pain shot to the back of my head, making my vision hazy. While the door inched open, I took a few deep breaths and quietly advanced.

As soon as a handgun came into view, I grabbed the guard’s wrist and knocked the gun out of his hand, just as I’d practiced repeatedly in training and later with Knox. My eyes tracked the weapon as it slid out of reach. Carmen called out in alarm, and I barely had enough time to duck out of the way before the guard’s fist barreled toward my face. I rushed him, tackling him to the floor. As I retreated, he caught my ankle, and I fell onto my side. Despite the pain coursing through my hip, I kicked out of his hold and desperately reached for the gun.

“Freeze!”

Looking up, I found a second guard standing in the doorway, his gun pointed directly at my head. Knowing I was out of options, I stilled and held my hands up, only vaguely aware of Carmen sobbing behind me.

The first guard lumbered to his feet and retrieved his weapon, glaring at me the entire time. “You’re going to regret that, bitch. Now, move.”

My entire body shaking, I silently followed their instructions as they directed me down a short hall to the bathroom. Guns were pointed at my back and front while they lectured me on not trying anything stupid. When I entered the bathroom, it was immediately clear that escape would once again be impossible. The only window was small and boarded up. Of course.

I quickly took care of business and studied my surroundings as I walked back to my “cell.” There were two other rooms with identical steel doors, so I had to assume that’s where the other women were being held. Down the hall, I could make out a living room with a television and couch and more boarded windows. Nothing else was visible from my position.

After giving Carmen a sad smile, I returned to my mattress, ignoring the distasteful scent of the TV dinner waiting for me. For the first time since waking, I allowed my thoughts to drift to the guys’ reactions once they discovered I was missing. They probably hadn’t even realized it yet, since they expected me to be in class. When I didn’t turn up at the loft, would they panic? Even worse, they might believe I’d decided to run again. After how I’d pushed them away, I wouldn’t be surprised if they jumped to that conclusion.

My chest ached. Would they even bother searching for me?

As soon as the thought entered my mind, I suppressed it. The guys would always come looking for me, no matter how badly I had treated them. That’s who they were. That’s how much I meant to them.

If there was anything I felt certain of, it was that Jackson, Liam, Theo, Chase, and Knox would find me. They would never give up, and neither would I.