Chapter Thirty-Three
The world became a terrifying sensory deprivation tank of muffled engine roars, the rough canvas of the hood scratching against my nose, and the sharp, burning ache in my wrists where the plastic zip-ties bit deeper with every bump in the road.
I was shoved into the cramped, metal trunk of a car. The air was stale and hot, smelling of gasoline and old upholstery. Every turn of the vehicle sent me sliding across the hard floorboards, my shoulders slamming into the wheel wells. I tried to scream against the cloth gag wedged tightly in my mouth, but the only sound that escaped was a pathetic, muffled whimper that was easily swallowed by the hum of the tires.
Jake.
My mind screamed his name over and over. I pictured him coming up to his quarters, finding the empty bed,
