Episode9
1073 Words
I woke with a sharp inhale that immediately turned into pain.
my head throbbed. my mouth felt dry. When I tried to move, nothing responded the way it should.
Something was tight around my wrists.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the dim, yellow light overhead. A broken bulb flickered somewhere in the ceiling of what looked like an abandoned building—cracked walls, peeling paint, the smell of dust and damp cement.
I am tied to a chair.
My arms were secured behind my back, my ankles bound tightly to the legs of the chair. Panic rose in my chest, but I forced it down, breathing through it in short, controlled bursts.
Think.
No one was around.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Then footsteps.
A door creaked open somewhere ahead, and a man walked in as if he belonged there. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his expression carried no urgency—only patience, like he had done this before.
My body tensed immediately.
“Good,” the man said simply. “You’re awake.”
My voice came out rough. “Where am I?”
He ignored the question and stepped closer, circling my slowly. “You’re going to behave yourself. Understand?”
My jaw tightened. “Why am I here?”
A faint smirk crossed his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You talk too much.”
I pulled against the restraints. “Let me go.”
He stopped in front of me. “The reason you’re still breathing and not touched is because the boss wanted his turn first.”
Silence dropped heavily between us.
Rue’s stomach twisted. It won't take a genius to figure out that Mr Richardson is behind this but I decided to play dumb. “What boss?”
No answer.
“Why me?” I pressed, voice shaking despite my effort to steady it. “I didn’t do anything.”
Still nothing. The man tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was already irrelevant, then turned away.
“Rest,” he said. “You’ll need it.”
And just like that, he left.
The door shut.
I was alone again.
Zia had called Rue seven times before noon.
Then ten.
Then she stopped counting.
Her messages went unanswered, each one making her chest tighten further. By mid-afternoon, she couldn’t take it anymore.
She went to the club.
Inside, the noise felt wrong—too normal, too loud, too alive. She approached the front desk, breath uneven.
“I’m looking for Rue,” she said quickly. “She works here.”
The staff exchanged a look.
One of them hesitated. “She… doesn’t work here anymore.”
Zia blinked. “What do you mean?”
“She got fired last night.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. Then they did, all at once.
Zia didn’t wait for more explanation. She turned and ran.
Rue’s apartment was empty when she got there. No signs of her sister. No returned calls. No messages.
Zia’s hands shook as she dialed Jason.
“I can’t find her,” she said immediately.
Jason’s voice sharpened. Babe calm down, what happened?
Rue, I've looked everywhere. “okay, start from the beginning.”
“She’s gone. Fired. No one knows where she is.”
There was a pause. Then Jason said, “Stay at her apartment. She might come back. I’ll drive around and check the area.”
Zia nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay. Okay.”
But hours passed.
No Rue.
No call.
Nothing.
When Jason returned, his voice was quieter. “We should go to the police.”
They went together.
The station was bright, sterile, and unhelpful in a way that made Zia feel sick. The officer listened, typed something slowly, then leaned back.
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours,” he said. “We can’t file a missing person report yet.”
Zia’s voice cracked. “She’s not just missing. Something is wrong.”
“I understand your concern,” he replied, unmoved. “But protocol is protocol.”
Jason’s jaw tightened, but he guided Zia out before she could break completely.
Brad's POV
I didn’t plan on being at that club.
It was Max’s idea—one of those “just a few drinks” nights that never stayed simple. The music was loud, the crowd thick, and I had already decided I wouldn’t stay long.
I excused myself to the restroom.
On my way back, I stepped into the hallway—and almost collided with a girl.
She moved past me quickly, not looking up. But I saw her face for a split second.
Tears.
Not dramatic, not loud. Just quiet, falling as if she hadn’t noticed them.
Something about it stopped me cold.
I turned.
“Hey—wait,” I called.
She didn’t.
Instead, she kept walking out of the club.
I hesitated for a few minutes before following.
Outside, the night air hit me as I stepped onto the street. I could see her from a distance.
Then everything changed.
A van pulled up too fast, two men grabbed her.
She struggled, a brief flash of resistance—but it was over almost immediately. She was pulled inside.
The van sped off, I stood frozen for half a heartbeat then I ran.
I reached my car, engine starting hard, tires screeching as I pulled out after them.
“Come on,” I muttered, gripping the wheel tightly. “Come on.”
Rue's POV
I sat in silence for what felt like hours.
Time had stopped making sense.
My wrists ached from the restraints. My mind, however, refused to panic for long stretches. Instead, it drifted—backward.
Zia’s face, my apartment, Cooper’s office, the club lights.
I wonder, distantly, if anyone had noticed I was gone yet.
If Zia was looking, If anyone would care enough to keep looking.
I tested the bindings again, slower this time. No use.
Then I stopped wasting energy.
I focused on breathing, In and out.
Hours passed then I heard it.
Shouting from outside the room, I lifted my head.
More voices.
Then a gunshot. I went still.
Another shot followed, closer this time.
Footsteps rushed past the door.
Then chaos erupted outside shouting, crashing, something breaking violently.
My heart hammered as I strained against the chair, listening.
The door handle jerked suddenly.
Someone was trying to get in.
- Writer
