Everything went quiet for a moment, as if we stood still in time. I could hear my heart beating rapidly, each thump echoing in my ears louder than the city itself.
Duncan's hand was still clamped on my arm, and James stood a few feet away, frozen in rage, his chest heaving as if he was holding back a storm. None of us moved. Not yet.
The silence was suffocating. The kind of silence that came right before a gunshot.
My throat was dry, my breathing shallow. I didn't know whether to scream, to fight, or to pray. All I knew was that one wrong move could set both men off like lightning striking the ground.
And then—
Duncan's lips curled into a mocking smile, breaking the stillness like a crack of thunder. His free hand slipped inside his coat, and when it came back out, the metallic glint of a pocketknife caught the streetlight. He lifted it slowly, deliberately, pressing the blade to the side of my neck.
"Careful, James," he murmured, his voice low, smooth, and deadly. "One step, and I'll carve my name right here." The knife's edge pressed in just enough to sting, sending shivers down my spine.
James's fists clenched. His eyes burned into Duncan, but his feet stayed rooted in place. The storm inside him was ready to break, but he couldn't—he wouldn't risk me.
The smirk on Duncan's face only deepened as he pulled out his phone with his free hand, dialing a number without ever breaking eye contact with James. The ring barely lasted before someone picked up.
"Yes, he's with me," Duncan said flatly, pausing to listen. His grip on me tightened, the knife pressing harder against my throat, making my breath hitch. I could feel my pulse hammering against the blade.
"No, I won't harm her," Duncan added firmly, his words sending a wave of confusion through me. Relief flickered in my chest, small but real, even as fear choked me.
Before I could make sense of it, shadows moved. Men crept up from behind James, seizing his arms. He fought, thrashing like a wild animal, but they forced him down, ropes biting into his wrists as they tied him tight. A rough sack was yanked over his head, muffling his curses.
Then it was my turn. A sack covered my face, darkness swallowing me whole. Rough hands grabbed me, and before I could scream, something hard cracked against the side of my head. My body went limp as I was slung over someone's shoulder like nothing more than cargo.
---
Everything around me was a blur. From the moment the blow landed on my head, it was like the world refused to stay still. Faces, lights, and voices melted together, slipping in and out of focus as I fought to stay awake.
I remembered being shoved into the back seat of a car, the leather cold against my arms. The ride was quiet, except for the low rumble of the engine and the faint whisper of men talking in hushed tones—words I couldn't catch, words I wasn't meant to hear.
My eyelids fluttered, heavy as stone, but I caught fragments: the turn of the wheels, the city fading into silence, the way the car jolted when it finally came to a stop.
I tried to piece it all together, but my thoughts scattered like broken glass. Nothing fit. Nothing made sense.
And worst of all—I didn't know where James was.