I was locked in the trunk of a car. As I came to, I felt dizzy, my mouth dry and tacky from whatever drug I’d been given. If I didn’t think I’d be forced to lie there with it, I might have thrown up what little was in my stomach. Trying to breathe, but lacking much extra oxygen, I assessed my situation.

I was tied up, tight rope binding my wrists together behind my back, with more around my knees and ankles. I thought about shifting into wolf form, but it was likely I would still be hogtied if I did, considering how tight the rope was. It had cut off some of my circulation already; my feet and hands felt numb when I tried to move them to loosen the bonds. Besides, shifting took energy, and I wasn’t sure I had that to spare.

I could barely move. My heart began to pound with terror, hammering against my chest. I screamed, tried it a few times, at the top of my lungs, but nothing changed, and it was a waste of breath. I was coated in a cold sweat, shivering, probably a side effect of the drug and the stress of waking up trapped.

I was afraid I’d suffocate. Instinctually, I was trying to protect my baby from harm by curling around myself, but in the end, that wouldn’t help if I did suffocate, or starve to death. I just had to count on the fact that I was a shifter, and tough enough to pull through, and that as fated mates, our child would be strong and healthy, too. But I was helpless to do anything to get myself free.

I hadn’t seen who captured me, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. I remembered the phone ringing at Chase’s penthouse, and I was just starting to get comfortable there. He’d left to get me breakfast. I remembered going to answer it, putting my back to the room. Then a sound behind me, like the shift of material—then something pressed over my mouth, a damp cloth and a vile smell. Then nothing. Blackness.

And that was how I’d ended up in a claustrophobic car trunk, kidnapped. Fucking Michael.

I didn’t know how long I’d been there, but my throat was parched raw, my legs and arms tight with cramps. Hours, at least. I was desperate to pee.

I couldn’t think about that, I told myself, trying to calm my terrified mind and thumping heart. The panic would take me over and destroy any attempts at rational thought. I needed my wits.

Chase. He was probably going crazy, if he had figured out what had happened. Tearing apart the whole world in his fury and desperation. I felt so fucking stupid for never giving Chase any information about Michael.

Chase had no fucking idea what to do, where to go. He knew nothing, because I had made sure of it. But I was gone, and the baby was gone, and Chase had to be in agony.

The car rumbled to a stop. I heard footsteps on dry, dusty ground. The trunk popped open, and moonlight spilled in. It was late, the depths of night. I felt like I was in a horror movie.

Michael eyes were wide and crazed. He had a bottle of water in his hand, and he wrenched my head up, forcing water into my mouth. I swallowed, embarrassed by how grateful I felt.

“You should have listened,” Michael muttered.

“Where are we going?” I asked, desperate to get some sort of answer for him. “What are you going to do? Michael, whatever you do--”

“You shouldn’t have disobeyed me. I warned you…” He slammed the trunk closed in my face, sealing me in darkness.

No! No! C’mon, he had to give me something better than that! Starting to panic, I kicked at the trunk. It was no use.

A few moments later, the car rumbled on.