The night was cold, the streets quieter than usual. The girl walked alone, heading home after a long day. The dim glow of the streetlights flickered, casting long shadows as she passed.
She didn't notice the car trailing behind her until it was too late.
Before she could react, a strong arm grabbed her from behind. A cloth was pressed against her mouth—a sharp, sickly scent flooding her senses. She struggled, kicking and thrashing, but her body betrayed her. Her vision blurred, her strength faded, and everything went dark.
When she woke up, her head throbbed. The air around her was damp, filled with the smell of old wood and rusting metal. She was inside a warehouse, her hands tightly bound with rope.
She wasn't alone.
A young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, sat across from her. His small frame shivered, his eyes wide with fear. She didn't recognize him, but seeing his scared face made her push aside her own panic.
"Are you okay?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
The boy nodded hesitantly. "I—I don't know where we are," he stammered.
She scanned the warehouse. The walls were lined with broken crates and metal shelves covered in dust. A single dim bulb hung from the ceiling, casting weak, flickering light. The place was silent, except for the occasional creak of the wind against the walls.
Her heart pounded. Why had they kidnapped her? And why take a child along with her?
She struggled against the rope, trying to loosen it, but the knot was tight. The boy watched her nervously.
Minutes passed. Then, suddenly—footsteps.
She froze as the heavy door creaked open. Two men stepped inside. Rough voices, scarred faces, cold eyes. They didn't seem to notice her awake at first.
"She should wake up soon," one of them muttered.
The other scoffed. "She's more trouble than I thought. And the kid—"
Something shifted in the boy's expression.
Her heart sank as she noticed it—the flicker of guilt, the way he refused to meet her eyes.
Then it hit her. The boy wasn't a victim. He was part of the plan.
Betrayal burned in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. If she panicked now, she'd lose her only chance.
The moment the men turned their backs, she acted.
She twisted her hands sharply, using every ounce of strength to slip free of the loosened rope. The moment her wrists were free, she lunged for the door.
"HEY!" one of them shouted.
She didn't stop. Her legs moved before her mind could catch up. She pushed past them, dodging the grasping hands, and burst out of the warehouse.