Chapter 29

29

Pain rips through my skull with every beat of my heart. I groan, cracking my eyes open as smoke clouds the air, the strong, bitter scent of burning wood filling my nostrils as everything rocks into focus.

What the fuck happened? The last thing I remember is the van and Bowie. Shit, where's my phone?

Gritting my teeth through the throbbing sensation, I swivel my head to the side and spot my phone on the sidewalk beside me. I move to reach for it, but large hands grab my wrists. I yelp as someone squeezes them, jerking them above my head. The skin pinches and pulls as I‘m bound with something sharp and stiff.

"What the hel-"

"Shut up!" A vaguely familiar voice growls as his palm flies at me, snapping my head to the other side, cheek burning from where he made contact. "I've got a call to make. Tape her mouth shut and get her in the trunk."

Everything is off-kilter as my vision spins from the impact and a dark figure looms over me. It can't be- "Trey?"

"Sorry, Wren," he whispers, wrenching tape from a roll and securing it over my lips.

I try to scream, forcing the sound from my throat, but even if anyone could hear me, the crescendo of sirens around us drowns my muffled cries.

"Shit," he mumbles, crouching down and threading his arms under my own.

Sheer panic sears through my veins as he starts to drag me across the concrete. I arch my neck, catching sight of the trunk of a black sedan open and waiting. I thrash, trying to raise my leg to kick myself free, only to be met with resistance. My eyes dart to my ankles, where white zip ties hold them together.

My throat tightens at the realization I'm fucking helpless, and red hot tears sluice down my cheeks.

The pavement bites into my skin where my clothes have rucked up as Trey pulls me down the curb and across the asphalt. He shifts around, sliding an arm under my knees and hoisting me up.

A sullen look hangs heavy on his features as he puts me in the trunk. He reaches up to close the lid and my eyes flicker to my phone, mentally cursing myself for not getting ahold of it.

Trey follows my gaze, brows slanting as his throat bobs with a swallow. He cranes his neck around like he's checking for something before he jogs over and grabs my phone.

I can see the screen light up as he types something on it and chuckles lowly. "1-2-3-4 is the worst password."

"Let's go!" The first voice shouts as red and blue lights flash in the distance.

Trey slips the phone into the pocket of his worn jeans, mouthing sorry one last time before he presses the lid down, concealing me in the darkness.