THEIR DEMANDS

When Zoey regained consciousness, she found herself bound hand and foot, lying in the dim, cramped interior of what she realized must be the van she had seen before blacking out. Her heart pounded in her chest as fragments of memory came flooding back — the van, the glint of metal, a cloth smelling sickly sweet pressed over her mouth and nose just in case the blow hadn’t knocked her out.

She jerked violently against her restraints with a muffled shriek, panic clawing at her throat. This had to be a mistake, a horrible nightmare she would wake up from any second now back in Ellis's strong, safe embrace. But her bonds held firm, biting cruelly into her wrists and ankles, and there could be no mistaking the grim reality of her pitch-black, eerily silent prison. She was a bit claustrophobic, and it heightened her panic. She realised that she wasn’t gagged, so she began to scream.

"Ellis!" she cried out desperately, tears streaking her cheeks. "Somebody, please! Help me!"

Her captors' moc
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