Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The car starts driving.
“You're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, bitch,” says a smooth voice from the front seat, definitely not the guy who captured me. “Stop playing detective and go back to getting wasted and fucking college boys. Do you understand what kind of shit you’re getting yourself into?”
“I—”
“Shut up. Doesn't matter to me if you do or not, honestly. We’re getting paid to send a message, not give advice.” He doesn't say anything more.
I don’t think we drive far before the car stops, but without any way to orient myself, I have no idea where I am. The door on my left opens, and then suddenly there's room on that side as the guy who sat there gets out. His grip around my wrists hurts as he yanks me out after him. I bang my shoulder on the door frame on the way out, and it stings so suddenly, I can't help but let out a yelp. One of them laughs.
And then I'm left to stand on my own. Even through the bag, I can sense light, but I don't know if I'm in a garage, or maybe it's just the headlights for the car. I want to take the bag off, but I don't dare. They're all right there.
“Mila Cole. Twenty-one. Journalism major,” the smooth voice says. His voice echoes a little as he continues, rattling off my parent’s address and more personal information to prove they can target me. “You think you’ve found some shit, but you’re in way over your head. Be happy that we’re only supposed to make sure you understand how serious this is.”
“I don't—” A fist in my gut cuts me off, knocking the air right out of me. I drop to my knees, wheezing for breath.
“This isn’t a conversation, girl. I'm telling you how it is, and you can do with my advice as you think best. I'm just explaining how your choices will pan out. If you don’t force our hands, you’ll walk out of here on your own two feet. Maybe not fast, but you’ll do it. I think it's important that you understand how easily we can make that not happen.”
With the bag on my head, I have no way of seeing the backhand coming my way, but I sure feel the pain of it spread through my face as my head snaps back so hard it knocks me to the ground. I struggle to my hands and knees, head spinning. This time I can't hold back the sob. I've never felt so helpless.
What am I supposed to do? Just take it? There are at least four people here, and I feel like a bloody rabbit in a dog fighting pit. They might not mean to kill me, but my skin prickles with the sense that these guys are going to anyway, whether they mean to or not. I'm trying to keep a clear head, but my evening of horror isn't close to over.
Nearby, one of them laughs, a crude, quiet bark, followed by a hard kick to my side that flips me right over. Pain shoots through me and my gut lurches. I land with a grunt, my palms scraping on the ground—on asphalt, it feels like—as I catch myself.
I have to get away.
I roll, and it must've been just in time, because one of them swears and I hear gravel scrape. Getting my hands under the hood, I force it off my head, the tight opening pulling painfully at my nose. Just in time to get another fist to my stomach, but at least now I can see.
There are four guys in a circle around me, grinning like this is the most fun they've had in ages. They’re wearing the same white masks, and crowd closer slowly, taking their time to make sure I’m as terrified as possible. If they all jumped on me at once, I wouldn't stand a chance. I jam my hand in my pocket. I'll only get one chance at this, and that's if I can get myself up on my feet.
“Please, I’m just a student. I don’t know anything,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath as I get myself up on one knee. If I can get them talking, then maybe—
One of them kicks and I only barely manage to get out of the way, letting out a strangled cry in the process. The sound makes them laugh.
God, do they have no mercy?
One of them shoves me from behind. I stagger forward, staying on my feet, but ending up right in front of another man. Even with the mask, I can see the way his eyes crinkle and can tell there’s a nasty grin under there. He pulls his arm back, fist clenched and ready to punch me.
It’s now or never.