Emily’s POV

The van lurched to a stop, jerking my body forward. My hands, still bound behind my back, strained against the rough rope cutting into my wrists. My shoulders ached from being in the same position for too long, and my head was still foggy from whatever they had drugged me with earlier. I clenched my fists, flexing my fingers to get some blood flow back.

The back doors creaked open, and the sharp scent of gasoline and damp concrete hit me. It was dark outside, the only light coming from flickering streetlamps and the glow of a distant neon sign. Warehouse. Predictable. These kinds of men always picked...