The car moved with unnerving smoothness, the city lights outside blurring into meaningless streaks of colour through the tinted windows. Meg's head throbbed, a dull counterpoint to the sharp, residual agony in her jaw and the sickening knowledge that her nose was definitely broken.
The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She was wedged tightly between two of the suits in the back seat, their bulky shoulders pressing against hers, their silence as oppressive as their physical presence.
Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with some kind of thin, flexible cord that dug painfully into her skin whenever she shifted.
She kept her eyes squeezed shut, partly against the throbbing pain, partly to block out the impassive faces of her captors. Fear was a cold knot in her stomach, tightening with every smooth mile the car devoured.
