Trapping Sophia (Disciples 6)

I didn’t even say goodbye…

I should have at least said goodbye.

The two men that took Amanda to the door suddenly appear in front of me out of nowhere, their bulky, black-clad bodies filling the whole of my vision.

Distraught over Amanda, I didn’t even notice the man with the rifle taking a step to the side.

“What?” I gasp as I’m roughly grabbed and yanked forward.

My arms are pulled painfully behind my back and a strip of fabric is shoved into my mouth before I can do anything to stop it.

Caught by surprise, I struggle against the man restraining me without thinking while the other works to tie the fabric behind my head.

Struggling proves to be futile though. No matter how hard I fight, I’m not as strong as the man holding me.

The cloth between my teeth is tightened, tied, and then I’m shoved forward a second before a hood is dropped over my head.

Everything goes black.

I’m not even given a chance to get my bearings before I’m yanked by my arms and forced to stumble and trip across the floor.

My toes stubbing painfully against the concrete.

I watched exactly what happened to Amanda, but now that I’m unable to see, everything happening feels fast and chaotic.

One of the men bangs on the door and shouts, “Number six is ready to roll!”

The air in front of me moves in what must be the door opening, and then another man, most likely the man in the suit says, “Very good.”

The hands on my arms drop away and then I’m shoved forward.

I’m free for a split second.

Free to teeter precariously on my heels before I’m grabbed and yanked forward again.

The bruising grips on my arms haul me up a flight of stairs and then I’m dragged around in seemingly random directions for a few minutes before I’m brought to a sudden halt.

Disoriented, I try to figure out what the hell is going on.

Why did they grab me?

Where did they drag me to?

What are they going to do to me?

My head still spinning, my tongue presses against the cloth in my mouth, trying to push it out, while my eyes strain to see through the black fabric covering my head.

The men flanking me huff and puff in air, but otherwise it’s eerily quiet.

Seconds tick by, seconds of my heart pounding a beat in my ears while all my worst nightmares play out in my head.

Are they going to kill me now?

Rape me?

Torture me?

Experiment on me?

Or all of the above?

Dread starts to pump through my veins, so thick and toxic my very soul feels poisoned by it.

Deep down, I know that any minute now, the point of all of this… the point of this waking nightmare is about to come to fruition.

And there’s nothing I can do to escape it.

With this hood over my head, I won’t even see it coming.

As if the universe is reading my mind, the sound of two sets of approaching footsteps puncture the silence.

In my current state, each tap is so loud and ominous, they might as well be nails pounding in my coffin.

“Is this my order?” a new voice asks. His voice is smoother, more refined than the others, with an accent I can’t place.

“Yes, sir,” another man answers, his accent easily recognizable as Russian.

“Very good,” the refined voice says, and I sense someone moving closer.

The hands holding me in place drop away and the space around me becomes cold.

Free from restraint, I almost immediately reach up and pull the hood up.

Almost.

But the fear of what they might do to me if I do holds me back.

I’ve made it this far… I can’t give up now.

No matter what happens now, comply and survive.

Isn’t that what I promised Beth?

Regardless of what they do to us, we have to live.

With nothing else to do with them, my arms hang awkwardly in the air before I drop them to my sides.

Someone chuckles.

“Ah, she’s already obedient. The prince will be very pleased,” the refined voice says, sounding even closer.

Then it’s right in front of me.

“Stay still.”

Someone begins to walk around me, and though I can’t see them, I can feel a pair of eyes crawling all over my body.

The temptation to move, to cover myself for the sake of not being obedient is so strong it nearly overcomes my determination to survive past this moment.

“Does the merchandise meet your expectations?” the Russian asks, a hint of unease in his voice.

Whoever is walking around me makes a thoughtful humming sound in the back of their throat and then I sense them stopping in front of me again.

“It’s not the best you’ve had to offer…” the refined voice drawls out.

For the briefest of seconds I fear what will happen if I’m found lacking.

What will they do to me?

Feed me to the pigs?

Then out of nowhere a cold hand touches my stomach.