Page 204 of My Unhinged Alphas
Take stock.
That thought is the only useful one I have, so I cling to it.
I try to remember what happened after I was taken, but I have nothing. They must have given me something to knock me out. That part I understand, but the part before makes little sense.
How did they even get to me?
I was asleep in the middle of them, literally between bodies, hemmed in by heat and weight and the kind of closeness that should have made taking me impossible without waking all three men at once. Someone did not just slip in and get lucky. Someone knew where we were. Someone knew the room, the layout, maybe even how exhausted we’d be, how deeply we’d sleep after everything.
A cold realization moves through me.
We were set up.
The blindfold makes everything worse because I can’t do what I always do, can’t scan, can’t count exits, can’t look for doors or windows or faces. So I do it the other way. Body first. I flex my fingers. My hands aren’t numb. Good. Shoulders ache but not badly. My mouth tastes stale and chemical and fear.
I’m not naked.
The thought helps in the smallest, ugliest way. Enough to lower the panic by one inch. Enough to keep me from spiraling completely.
The room is quiet enough that I can hear my own pulse.
Then movement.
Not close at first. Just a shift somewhere to my left. A floorboard or a shoe scraping. Someone is here. Of coursesomeone is here. They didn’t tie me up and leave me like luggage.
I swallow. When I speak, my voice comes out rough. “You didn’t gag me.”
No answer.
That surprises me enough to cover the fear for a second.
“I’m just saying,” I go on, because silence is worse, because if I stop talking then all I have is the blindfold and the ropes and whatever this person wants from me. “Feels like an oversight.”
Still nothing.
I wet my lips. My mouth is dry enough it barely helps.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, trying for steady and hearing the cracks anyway. “Whatever you think this is, whatever you were told, I’m not worth the trouble.”
A step closer this time. I turn my head toward the sound automatically, even though the blindfold makes it useless.
“If this is about money, I don’t have any,” I say. “If it’s about information, I don’t know anything useful. If it’s personal, you’ve got the wrong girl.” My voice shakes on that last word.
I hate it.
“Please,” I say, quieter now. “Please just tell me what’s going on.”
Nothing.
The silence starts to feel deliberate.
That thought sends a fresh cold wave through me. So I change tactics.
“Look,” I say, trying to keep my breathing even, trying to sound human instead of terrified, “I don’t know what kind of day you’re having, but this seems like a lot. Maybe we can reset.”
The words sound ridiculous the second they leave my mouth, but I keep going anyway.
“I won’t scream. I won’t do anything stupid. Just… take the blindfold off. Talk to me.”
