When I was about ten yards away from it, I thought I heard a rustling from the dense patch of woods beyond the eastern side of the lot. Then I heard the slow crunch of footsteps on dead leaves. I stopped and whirled around, eyes saucer-wide.
There was nothing there. I was imagining things.
I finally reached my car and stashed my bag in the trunk. Then I looked down and let out a defeated groan, chest tightening as sickness rose in my throat.
I had a flat tire. In fact, upon further inspection, it appeared that I had two.
“Shit,” I muttered, shoulders slumping.
My mind whirled as I tried to figure out what to do.
I could try to get an Uber all the way out here, but I wasn’t sure I’d make it all the way to Silvercreek. The journey would cost a lot, especially with Friday night price surging, and my dwindling bank account might not have enough to cover it.
With a heavy sigh, I turned and headed back across the parking lot, figuring my only option now was to go to the security office and ask for help. I’d seen a couple of security guards helping a student who punctured a tire about a week ago, so they probably had a few more spares lying around. I just had to hope they didn’t ask me too many questions about my urgent desire to leave the campus tonight.
I stopped dead in my tracks as a silhouette appeared at the opposite end of the lot, about forty yards away from me. It was a man, tall and hulking, dressed in loose dark clothing.
He stood there, motionless. Something was hanging in his right hand, gripped tightly in his fingers. It looked like a gun, but I couldn’t be sure.
Hunter.
It had to be him. Only he would stalk me in a parking lot like this.
A lump appeared in my throat as I tried to figure out what to do. He obviously knew I was trying to leave, so was it even worth trying now? Should I just give up and let him come for me instead?
He started moving, taking slow, measured steps toward me. As he drew closer, I saw that he was wearing a black mask, and his dark jacket hood had been pulled up to hide his hair.
“You don’t scare me, Hunter,” I called out, even though it was a total lie. “I know it’s you, and I know that’s not a real gun in your hand.”
“I’m not Hunter, sweetheart.” The responding voice was cold and gruff. It was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
All I knew was that it definitely wasn’t Hunter.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, stomach clenching as hair rose on the back of my neck. Memories from my first day at RFA were flooding my mind, filling me with icy dread.
Apparently there used to be some sort of secret society here. An old boys’ club who got up to all sorts of creepy stuff, Trina had told me. There were rumors about them taking part in ritualistic murders. Also, some students found a body here once. A girl. Scholarship student. Kidnapped, held captive, tortured, and finally strangled.
Watch out, Laney… you could be next, Adam had joked.
It wasn’t so funny now that it might actually be happening.
When my friends first told me about all the urban legends on this campus, I thought there was a sliver of a chance that the so-called secret society was still around. Maybe I was right, and there was some truth in the rumors of their depravity. Maybe every so often the members liked to hunt down scholarship students to torture and kill them for fun.
Maybe they’d chosen me as their next victim.
The masked man took another step closer to me. Then he stopped and cocked his head to one side, as if he were waiting for me to freak out and make a run for it, heightening his twisted enjoyment of the game.
My fight-or-flight instincts finally kicked in, and I whirled around, trying to figure out the quickest way to the campus security office from where I was standing. Horror filled me as I spied another masked man standing at the other end of the lot, and then another on the path on the western side.
Shit. There was only one place to go now.
The woods.
The realization hit me just as the men took off running, heading right for me.
I screamed and dashed madly to the right, wind whipping through my hair as I approached the dense patch of trees. Fog had collected around the trunks and in the hollows, making it look like something out of a horror film, and when I stepped inside, there was a chill in the air that seemed to penetrate my clothes, seeping right into my bones. It was oppressively dark too, but that was a good thing. It made it easier for me to disappear.
I sucked in a deep breath and ran as fast as I could.
The woods had claws and teeth. Sharp twigs and thorns bit at me as I ran through, stinging my legs and ankles, but I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the pain. I sprinted harder and harder, choking down my terror, and some sort of primal instinct finally led me to a narrow dirt trail, carved out by centuries of human and animal activity.
I turned onto it, heading south. I knew this patch of forest ended somewhere in that direction, and there was a brick path there, leading to a staff parking lot near the southern end of Royal Hall. Just beyond that was the security office.
All I had to do was make it that far.
I could hear at least two of the men gaining on me now, their breath harsh and raspy beneath their masks as their feet crunched over piles of dead leaves and twigs. “C’mon, little girl,” one of them called out, guttural voice cutting through the cold air like a knife. “You can’t hide from us.”
I abruptly turned off the trail, realizing it was exactly where they expected me to go. Then I headed deeper into the woods, mind whirling as I tried to figure out my next move. I needed to double back somehow, so I could get to that path by the parking lot, but I couldn’t let the men see me or hear me.
I vaulted over a fallen tree and altered my direction again, heading north. They wouldn’t expect me to go that way, so I could keep running for a while longer, find a place to hide, and then finally head back south when they got tired of searching for me.
At the last second, I spotted another fallen tree and promptly tripped over it, twisting an ankle as I landed awkwardly. Pain shot up my leg, but I simply grimaced and kept running. I couldn’t stop. Stopping meant capture, and that meant possible rape, torture and murder.
Dripping sweat turned my hair into thick ropes that lashed at my shoulders, and my lungs felt like they were burning as I gulped down breath after breath, trying to keep myself going for as long as possible.
A hiding place finally presented itself—a dark hollow in a tree. It was just big enough for me to squeeze myself into.
I got on my hands and knees and crawled toward it. A twig suddenly snapped nearby, and I froze.
“Found you,” came a whispered voice in the darkness. “I knew you’d come this way.”
There was a faint zapping sound, and then white-hot agony sliced through me. I collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath as the pain sparked something in my mind, cracking open the brittle shell of a long-hidden memory.
Someone lying on the ground, head cracked open. Me, sinking to my knees and staring openmouthed at what I’d just done. Blood everywhere. My mom screaming. Crying.
“No…” I murmured, shielding myself with my hands.
The masked man crouched over me, holding out the device he’d just used on me. I realized what it was now. A stun gun, not a regular gun with bullets.
It made sense. These men didn’t want me dead; they just wanted me incapacitated.
For now.
The man grabbed my hands and tied them in front of me with a black rope. He did the same with my feet, completely immobilizing me, and then he stepped back and muttered something into a phone.
Footsteps crashed through the trees as the other men arrived. There were four altogether.
“I’ve got the pills,” I heard one of them say. He was the one who spoke to me earlier in the parking lot; the one whose voice sounded familiar. I still couldn’t place him.
“Hold her mouth open,” he went on,
crouching over me. He held two white tablets in one hand.
One of the other men pinched my nose, forcing me to open my mouth to take my next breath. The one with the pills shoved them inside, and then he clamped his hand over my lips. “Swallow,” he commanded.
I shook my head, moaning beneath his hand. The man lifted me up slightly and tilted my head back so that the pills slid down my throat, and then he grabbed a bottle of water from one of the others and forced me to drink.
After I’d gulped down the entire bottle—slowly and painfully—one of the men picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. “Please,” I said in a broken whisper. “Don’t… don’t do this.”
My voice was already starting to slur as the tablets kicked in. Powerful, fast-acting sedatives, presumably.
My head lolled on the man’s shoulder, and he patted my back. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Go to sleep.”
As he carried me through the woods, I realized I could no longer move or feel a single part of my body.
I let out one last plaintive whisper before my eyes closed. “Please.”
Then everything went black.
23
Laney
Consciousness filtered in slowly.
My arms and legs were heavy with fatigue, and there was an ache in my abdomen. My mind was the same—even though I was awake and aware that my head hurt somewhere, sleep still lingered, making everything feel fuzzy and distant, as if there were a gray fog curling around me.
Fog…
Something about that word sparked something in my mind, but it was gone before I could grasp it. My memories were wrapped in cobwebs, and no matter how much I tried to tear them away, I couldn’t seem to land on any important information.
I recalled a forest.
Foggy air.
Running.
Darkness.
Then nothing.
I took a deep breath and sat up, wondering if my surroundings would help me remember what happened to me.
I was on a single bed on the side of a medium-sized room. No windows. Gray padded walls and ceiling. Two doors, one on the left and one on the right. A cream wingback chair sat in the corner a few feet from the bed, and a large TV screen hung on the opposite wall.
Swallowing hard, I focused on the strange foam padding on the walls and ceiling. Did I have some sort of breakdown? Was this a room in a mental health facility?
I decided to go and try the doors. When I stood up, pain shot through my left leg, sharpening my previously-hazy memories. I recalled running through the woods at RFA, wincing and trying not to scream as twigs and thorns sliced up my legs and ankles through my black leggings.
I glanced down. I was still wearing the same black leggings. Same gray sweater and white ankle socks too. The only things missing were my coat and shoes.
Whatever happened to me must’ve happened recently.
I gingerly peeled up one side of my leggings to check out the scratches on my skin. As I expected, they looked fresh. Bright pink with tiny streaks of dried blood.
The sight of the blood sparked the return of another memory, and then another.
As my mind grew clearer, fear rose in me, gripping my guts with icy fingers. I knew exactly what happened to me now.
I was hunted by a group of men and kidnapped.
Presumably, this strange room was my new cell.
On trembling legs, I stepped over to the door on the left side of the room and tried the handle. It swung open to reveal a windowless black marble-tiled bathroom with a toilet, a sink, and a cupboard for spare soap and towels.
It was small but clean and elegant. Not bad for a supposed prison cell.
I returned to the main room and tried the other door. It was locked from the outside. Unsurprising, as it was almost certainly the entrance to the room. Some silly, illogical part of me had hoped it was unlocked, though, and when I stepped outside, all of this would be revealed as a prank.
No. This is real.
Blinking rapidly, I went and sat back down on the narrow bed. The muscles in my chin trembled as I tried to hold back my terrified tears, but they burst out anyway, flooding my cheeks in warm rivulets.
I could be tortured here.
I could be raped here.
I could die here.
I lay down and curled up into a ball, scrunching my eyes shut and praying for more sleep. Maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe I’d wake in my bed at RFA soon, and it would turn out that the last month was just one big, awful nightmare.
But sleep never came. The sedatives the men gave me after they caught me in the woods had fully worn off, and panic-induced adrenaline was spiking through my body, leaving me wide awake and jittery.
After an hour or so, a rustling sound came from somewhere outside the door. I jerked up to a seated position with my back against the wall, bringing my knees to my chest and making myself as small as possible.
The door opened, and one of the men who’d chased me through the woods stepped inside. At least I assumed it was one of those men. It was hard to tell when they all wore dark clothing, hoods pulled over their hair, and masks. For all I knew, this could be a totally different guy I hadn’t encountered yet.
A million questions bubbled to my lips, but I was too scared to voice a single one of them. Instead I sat frozen with fear, staring up at the masked man.
He held up a tablet with a typed message on the screen. You’re finally awake.
I tipped my head forward in a small nod, too scared to say ‘No shit, Sherlock’ like I really wanted to.
The man turned the tablet back around and typed out another message. Don’t try anything funny. There’s no way out of here except the door, and you won’t be able to get that open. Even if you try, you won’t get away with it. You’re being watched at all times.
He gestured to the far left corner of the room, just under the padded ceiling. I looked up at it, brows furrowing. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but there was a tiny black device stuck up there.
“Surveillance camera,” I muttered.
The masked man nodded.
“What’s going to happen to me here?” I asked, lifting my chin again.
Up to you, was the reply.
“How is it up to me?” I asked, heat rising in my cheeks. “You kidnapped me and now you’re keeping me in some sort of prison with no chance of escape. Nothing here is up to me!”
The man didn’t type anything else. He just stared silently.
I straightened my shoulders as something occurred to me. “You won’t get away with this, you know,” I said, clenching my jaw. “You and the other men screwed up.”
He cocked his head to one side, as if he were questioning me.
“I tried calling my mom a ton of times just before you chased me down, and I left her a voicemail saying I needed to talk to her as soon as possible,” I went on. “When she tries to call me back and can’t get hold of me, she’ll get worried. Then she’ll contact the school and the police, and they’ll send people out to look for me. Maybe they already have. They could’ve looked at CCTV footage from the RFA campus by now, and there could even be a manhunt underway. For all you know, they were onto you before you even left the campus, and they’re going to bust in here any second now!”
The masked man reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phone. My phone. He switched the screen on—it seemed as if some tech whiz had disabled the usual unlock code—and pressed a couple of things. Then he held up the phone to show me a message thread between me and my mom.
Me - 9:45 pm: Hey! Been trying to call. Really wanted to chat and let you know how things are going here before I switch my phone off and disappear into a giant study bubble this weekend. I have about twenty different papers to write so I really need to concentrate :( Anyway, I guess you’re busy with work, so I’ll talk to you another time. Love you xoxo
PS - If you can’t get hold of me anytime soon, you know why. Study, study, study. Bleh.
Mom - 10:37 pm: Hey baby, I’
m so sorry I missed your calls. I was working late. I’d love to chat but I understand how busy you are, so I’ll leave you alone for the weekend. Good luck with all the assignments. I’ll call you on Sunday night and you can tell me all about them. Love you and so proud of you!
I gritted my teeth as I read through the texts. “You didn’t do a very good job of impersonating me,” I muttered. “I never put ‘xoxo’ at the end of messages to my mom. And I never say ‘bleh’.”
The masked man shrugged and typed out another message on his tablet. She bought it. That’s all that matters.
“What about my friends?” I said, eyes narrowing. “I told them I’d hang out with them this weekend. If they can’t reach me, they’ll probably start to worry.”
The man shook his head and showed me another message thread on my phone.
Trina – 9:12 pm: Hey, how are you feeling now? Cramps any better yet? Poor thing.
Trina – 9:13 pm: Oh, also, let me know if you still want to meet me and Adam at Café Seven tomorrow for pancakes!
Me – 10:04 pm: Hey, not doing so great. Cramps suck. I’ll probably have to take a raincheck on those pancakes. Sorry :(
Trina – 10:08 pm: Not your fault. I know your pain, seriously. Hope you have a hot water bottle in your dorm. They always help me. Have some chocolate too! I read that the magnesium can help.
Me – 10:11 pm: Ooh yes, good idea. Any excuse for chocolate lol.
I shook my head and sat back, arms folded. “She’ll realize it’s not me texting her soon. I don’t talk like that.”
The masked man shrugged and typed out yet another message on his tablet. Not soon enough. No one is looking for you right now, and they won’t even notice you’re missing for at least two days. And you know what all those crime shows say – the first forty-eight hours are critical in kidnapping cases. With every hour that goes by, more and more evidence is lost, and there are fewer breadcrumbs for the police to follow. So every passing hour decreases the likelihood that you’ll ever be found.
Savage Prince: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Royal Falls Elite Book 1) Page 27