ELARA’S POV
The van rattled violently as it sped over uneven road, each jolt slamming my shoulder against cold metal. My wrists throbbed where the cable ties bit sharply into my skin, my breaths coming fast and shallow through the suffocating strip of tape pressed over my mouth. The interior was dark, cramped, and the air smelled of gasoline and sweat—thick and choking. My heart hammered so hard it hurt. My mind replayed the last seconds again and again: the sharp voice behind me, the cold object shoved against my spine, my phone clattering across the parking floor and dying in silence.
The van swerved left abruptly, and my body slammed sideways. The man beside me cursed and shoved me upright again as if I were nothing more than cargo. His face was hidden beneath a cap and mask, but his
