I screamed when a black car from the front suddenly changed lanes and blocked our path. Marco’s arm instinctively shot out in front of my chest, holding me back as he slammed on the brakes.
My heart stopped. Everything happened too fast—Marco’s quick movements, him grabbing something from the glove compartment, slipping it into his waistband.
Then he looked at me, his voice low and apologetic.
“I’m sorry, darling.”
“W-what?” Panic surged through me as Marco unbuckled his seatbelt. “Where are you going? Marco, what—what are you doing?”
Two men in black suits stepped out of the car that had cut our car off. They walked toward us, and Marco prepared to get out. “If you want to save me, don’t do anything reckless. Get out of here as fast as you can and find my father. Tell him not to pull
