The driver swerved sharply. Dahlia turned to speak, but the car halted abruptly. The door swung open, and a man slid in beside her.
“Get out,” he barked. Then, his gaze locked on her. “Gahn.”
“Did Bram send you?” Dahlia asked, her voice steady.
He chuckled, low and dark. “Still blind to the threat, aren’t you?” His hand brushed toward her face.
“Gahn, I don’t get it,” she said, her tone edged with confusion.
“You will,” he replied, his palm clamping over her mouth. Her body went slack. He exhaled, almost regretfully.
Somewhere in a cabin
Dahlia stirred, her wrists and ankles bound, suspended from the ceiling.
“Gahn, quit hiding, you coward,” she spat.
She felt him behind her. “Coward?” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. The belt lashed her back.
She hissed at the sting.
