His Banished Luna

An abduction

EMMALINE

I stir when my head bumps against something hard. A groan slips from my lips as I try to lift my hand, but it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. My eyelids are worse, like they’ve been glued shut and sealed with lead. Every part of my body aches. My skull throbs in time with my heartbeat, each pulse sharp and unforgiving like someone is driving a sledgehammer into the back of my head.

What… what’s going on?

I shift slightly, and my bones scream in protest. I’m lying on my side, awkward and crumpled like a discarded doll. The surface beneath me is metal, cold and vibrating, and every bump jolts through me like a slap. The air smells like rust, oil, and something sour. My throat is dry. My mouth tastes like cotton. When I finally pry my eyes open, the light hits me like a knife, and I flinch, blinking rapidly until the shapes around me start to make sense.

I’m in a van.

The back of a moving van, to be exact. Metal walls, no windows. Just the sound of tires rolling over uneven ground and the low hum of the engine. Panic curls inside me like smoke, rising slowly at first, then spreading until I’m choking on it.

How the hell did I get here?

I close my eyes again, trying to remember. The last thing I recall is being in my room, pacing. There was that noise, loud and sharp, like something breaking. Then the door burst open. Men—strangers—rushed in. I hadn’t even had time to scream before one of them lunged for me. I remember the glint of something in his hand, the sting in my neck, and then… nothing.

I’ve been kidnapped.

The realization hits like a punch to the chest. My heart races, pounding against my ribs. I try to sit up, but the van jolts over a bump, throwing me back down. I clench my jaw to keep from crying out, then go still, listening.

Voices. Two men, arguing. They’re in the front seat. One is driving, while the other is beside him in the passenger seat. I can’t see them clearly, but their words filter through the foggy glass wall separating us.

“We could kill her now,” the one in the passenger seat says. His tone is cold, flat, like he’s discussing taking out the trash. “It’d be easy to make the whole thing look like an accident.”

Accident.

The word echoes in my mind and my stomach twists, a sickening knot forming in my gut.

“Are you daft?” the driver snaps. “Boss would never buy that. He gave clear instructions, that she’s to be brought to him alive. If we mess this up, we’re as good as dead.”

Boss.

Who’s this boss? Who gave the order to take me? Why?

The questions spin in my mind, but I don’t have any answers. Just the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears and the faint fear crawling up my spine. I’m still groggy from whatever they drugged me with, but adrenaline is starting to kick in, cutting through the fog like a knife. I need to think. I need to move. I need to get out of here. And fast.

I shift slowly, careful not to make any noise. The van isn’t large, but there’s a gap between crates stacked near the rear doors. Maybe I can wedge myself between them and hide if I hear them coming. Maybe I can find something to use as a weapon. My fingers fumble against the metal floor, searching, but there’s nothing. Just bolts and rust.

“Do you think he’ll really go through with it?” the driver asks suddenly, voice lower now, a little uncertain.

“He’s waited too long not to,” the other replies. “You know what she is.”

What I am?

My breath catches. Whatever this is, it’s definitely not random. It’s something deeper, something more calculated. Some truth I haven’t been told. My mind flashes back to Alexander, to the way his voice had broken when he said I was the only one who could save him. His words had rattled me to my core.

A curse.

Is this connected to that? Did he know this would happen?

Before I can piece any of it together, the van lurches forward. Hard. My head snaps back against the wall with a dull thud, and for a moment, everything goes black around the edges. The tires screech. The men up front shout, their voices overlapping in confusion and panic.

“What the hell is that?!”

“s**t, hold on—!”

The van swerves violently to the side, then slams to a sudden, brutal stop. My body is thrown forward, slamming into the crates. Pain shoots up my side and I collapse onto the floor, dazed, breath knocked from my lungs.

The world tilts and spins. The sharp scent of burnt rubber fills the air.

I blink through the haze, trying to push myself up. The entire van is silent now except for the soft ping of the engine cooling. No more voices. No movement from the front.

Something’s happened.

I don’t know if it was planned or just bad luck, but whatever it is, it’s my only chance.

I drag myself up to my knees, ignoring the way my limbs shake. My head is still pounding, but I force myself to crawl to the back of the van. My hands scramble for the latch, searching for something, anything, that will let me out. The doors are locked from the outside, of course. Of course they are.

Still, I try. I shove. I kick. I scream.

Nothing.

I slam my fist against the door again, tears burning in my eyes. This can’t be it. I won’t just sit here and wait for them to finish whatever plan they started. I won’t be helpless again.

But then—I hear it.

Footsteps.

Crunching on gravel.

Steady. Unhurried. Getting closer.

Not the frantic kind that follows an accident. Not the stumbling panic of someone running for help. These steps are sure. Measured. Like they belong to someone who already knows exactly what they’ll find.

I freeze, every nerve on edge.

The sound stops right outside the van.

A beat of silence.

Then the lock clinks. A slow creak as metal strains. The latch breaks.

The doors swing open.

And standing there, framed by daylight and smoke, is a man I’ve never seen before—tall, broad, shadowed in the light, his face unreadable.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice low and rough, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Looks like I found exactly what I came for.”

My blood turns to ice.

Shit.