Captured by the Criminal (Taken)

I know I’m being used as bait, but how far will Costi let it go? If I get too close to Bishop Blackstone, I may just kill him myself.

The kitchen is empty, and I glance around for a sign of Costi’s men.

“Henri,” I call out, moving into the den off the kitchen.

The room is empty too. I travel the hardwoods of the house, checking each room, wondering why the house is so quiet. My hair stands on end. Earlier today, after Costi left, the two of them were talking so loud I couldn’t even hear my whiny inner monologue. Now their tones are hushed as I turn the corner to the garage.

“Henri? Ivan?” I ask as I enter the dusty space.

I’m not prepared for what I see. Henri and Ivan are both lying on the ground with a tall man standing over them.

“Who are you?” I ask the man before I’m snatched from behind.

I struggle, flailing my arms, trying my best to make contact with whoever is holding me.

A hand slaps over my mouth and I sink my teeth into flesh, biting as hard as I can. I’m freed instantly.

“Bitch just bit me,” a guy sneers in an uneven tone.

“Take care of these two. I’ll handle her,” the larger man says.

I try to run, but before I can make it another two steps, the larger man hoists me up and slings me over his shoulder.

I pummel my fists against his backside, trying my best to get away. Bishop’s men can’t take me. I can’t let this happen.

“She’s a feisty one,” the man holding me says.

The other man removes the guns from Henri and Ivan’s waistbands.

“Put me down,” I scream, hoping someone will hear me. Hoping Costi will appear.

He doesn’t.

The man heads out of the garage, tossing me into the back of a white van. He puts a washcloth over my face, and as soon as I breathe in, I pass out.

“She’s waking up,” a male voice says from far away.

I can’t identify the voice, and I can’t clear the fog from my mind. Everything is hazy when I open my eyes. I blink, trying to focus on any object. It’s dark and dank, and I do my best to take in my surroundings.

“Where am I?” I ask, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.

No one answers. Not that I really thought they would, but never hurts to ask. I glance around, looking for anything which can be helpful in figuring out a way out of here.

It takes a few minutes for my eyes to acclimate to the light barely peeking in through a window near the top of the empty space. It’s a warehouse of some sorts, but obviously abandoned.

The space echoes as the men talk in hushed tones. I try to listen, but there are no words I can make out clearly.

My woozy head still has the effects of whatever they used to knock me out. It feels like I’m underwater.

“Get up,” a man says to me, kicking me in the butt while I lie on the cold concrete floor.

When I don’t move, he grabs my shirt, pulling me up and tugging me a few feet to a chair.

He secures my feet to the legs of the chair with duct tape. I try to wiggle free, but it’s no use. Does anyone even know I’m here?

Have Henri and Ivan woken up yet? Have they told Costi I’m gone?

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

I will not die here.

I will figure a way out.

There are three men I see in the building with me. I’m sure there are others not too far away, but I need to outsmart these three first.

I pay attention to everything they do, my head slowly coming back to life from the drugs they gave me.

Before I can formulate a plan, the back door opens and a mysterious figure, cloaked in black, moves through the door..

It must be Bishop.

Yet, as he draws closer, I realize it’s not a man at all.

My eyes try to focus on what I’m staring at, but there’s nothing in the world that can prepare me for what I see.

No, it can’t be.

Twenty

Costi

* * *

Intuition is a funny beast. I knew something was off the minute I left Bishop’s office. He was too accommodating. Even though he needs Bianca, he was too… something. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the feeling I was having when we left, but seeing the state of Henri and Ivan has me enraged.

“They took her,” Henri rasps out, holding the side of his face that’s already turning into a nasty bruise.

“We need to find her,” I say through clenched teeth.

Knox follows me to my office, and I find the number to the one man I don’t want to talk to—Bianca’s father.

“Mr. Amato, it’s me, Constantine.”

“Where’s my daughter?” he booms, sounding frantic—furious—worried.