Dakota
No point in struggling, he thought. At least not for now. The dozens of bindings—along his arms, stomach, chest, and legs—held him firmly in the chair. Sharp metal wire cut into his skin where he wasn’t protected by cloth. Any sort of movement would just cause more pain.
He couldn’t see much. The pillow case on his head permitted only a slim view of his own lap and arms. While he could probably shake the thing off, Dakota didn’t dare for fear of encouraging the wrath of whoever held him captive. They’d already hit him twice, right in the jaw. Once, when he began to wake in the back of a vehicle, and a second time when he tried to fight them before they tied him down.
And worse yet, Dakota was already injured, most likely from the crash. His knee felt hot and swollen, and if he mo
