Sierra Morgan: The Don's Bride

Right there!! That's the spot, Hmm.." she moaned. She couldn't contain her scream, as she was being bent over her reading table which had a mirror on the wall by it, and so, as her insi

." The door banged closed before she managed to speak. Sierra stayed silent for what felt like hours. The glass of wine stayed untouched, teetering on the edge of the table. Her hands trembled while she recalled his words in her thoughts. Just then a call came in. Sierra in a scurry rushed towards the phone and picked up hoping it was the guy she just had a one-night stand with coming back to apologize. "Hello!". There was a long silence on the phone, followed by an eerie slow breathing. "Hello? Who is this?" Sierra asked now convinced that this was not the guy. There was a pause on the other side for an instant before a deep, warped voice spoke. "Miss Morgan?" Her stomach twisted. "Who is this?" "Doesn't matter," the voice replied. "You need to come with us." Her blood ran cold. "Come with you? What are you talking about? Who-" The line went dead. She looked at the phone, her heart racing in her chest. She rose, her feet gently brushing the floor as she approached the door to inspect the lock. Just as she was about to arrive, the lights in the penthouse blinked and went out, shrouding the space in shadows. "Hello?" Her voice trembled. "Who is it?" The noise of breaking glass windows startled her. She turned quickly, her gaze flicking to where the sound came from. Shadows flickered on the walls as shapes approached her. "Stay away!" she yelled, snatching the closest item-a decorative vase-off the table. Her hands trembled as she lifted it protectively. "Miss Morgan," one of the masked figures remarked, his tone composed, nearly teasing. "Don't complicate this more than necessary." "Leave my home!" she shouted, hurling the vase. It broke apart upon hitting the wall, failing to reach its aim. The man let out a sigh. "Wrong answer." Before she had a chance to respond, another figure emerged from behind her, robust arms encircling her waist and securing her arms firmly against her body. She flailed and yelled, but it was futile. A fabric was pressed onto her face, causing the surroundings to start to fade. Without fear of contradicting anything, Sierra moved and sensed movement close by. Her head hurt, her wrists seemed to ache at the joints, and she could taste iron in her mouth. She blinked, swung her head around trying to take in the event, and found as much as possible that it was dark. The atmosphere was dense and weighed down by the scent of leather and gasoline. All at once, a wave of terror swept through her as she understood she was confined in the car's trunk. "Help!" she shouted, pounding on the walls of the trunk. "Please let me out!" None of her muted calls received any response. The car hit a bump, and she hit her head on the side. She flinched, tears rolling down her cheeks as fear conquered her. Sierra woke up feeling motion. Her head throbbed, her wrists hurt, and she could taste metal in her mouth. Blink. Try to understand her environment, but all she could perceive wa