d some

a desolate industrial stretch, a shortcut Houston's driver had taken to avoid the main road's gridlock.

he corner," Jocelyn said, her voi

suffocating luxury of the car and the cold presence of the man

eemed to weigh her request, his eyes searching for a hidden motiv

face and the build of a professional f

le too quickly. "Please. I

if calculating the exact radius of her potential escape. "Fine," he said, his voice dropping an oct

t the pavement. The air was humid and smelled of exhaust fumes, but it felt like the sweetest, freshest air she ha

dn't m

a halt in front of her, cutting off her path. The passenger door flew o

ve here," he sneered, his br

thick, meaty arm snaked around her waist, lifting her off her feet. Rick Tucker

ice was a greasy whisper in her ear. His foul

g a brick wall. "Help!" she shrieked, but the street was qui

widened as he saw the photo of the marriage certi

"You went behind my back

a burst of white-hot pain through her cheek. Her head snapped to

. "Married? Even better. To a Matthews? Oh, th

lver duct tape. Before Jocelyn could scream again, he ripped off a piece a

t the grimy asphalt. They shoved her into the cramped back seat, and

ce, blurring the grimy interior of the truck. This w

e pulled away from the curb, a figure appe

her m

e truck's window. She ran alongside the vehicle, her

can't do this to her!

ring at her mother. Not your daughter. She knew he was only her stepfather, but hearing her mother scream it so desperately felt

push Sharon away. She stumbled and fell hard on the side

crumpled figure on the ground. Jocelyn watched through the rear window, her heart sha

in her throat, b

d landed on her thigh, hot and heavy. "Now then, Mrs. Matthews

ed through her. She fought back with everything she had, kicking, biting a

he closed her eyes, preparing to bite down on

he force threw them all forward. Rick grunte

from the driver's seat. "Which

s eyes f

had surged ahead through an intersecting alley, pullin

ueal of more tires behind them stopped him. Two black SUVs

t wasn't Houston who stepped out. It was Roc

a beat. It was Houston

bravado evaporating, replaced

more men emerged. They were all dressed in identical black suits, moving with a silent, coordinated ef

er despair, a tiny, fragile sliver