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My throat tightened, a sharp pulse of dread spreading through me. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"No you don't! Turn around," I snapped, leaning forward and tapping his shoulder.

He didn't respond. Didn't even flinch. His hands stayed steady on the wheel as the car glided into a narrow, dimly lit lane that is too quiet and too empty for this hour. Now I have a really bad feeling about this.

"Hey!" I snapped, louder this time, tapping his shoulder harder. "Where are you taking me? Stop the damn car! Let me out!"

He didn't look at me. Didn't flinch. His eyes stayed locked on the road ahead, unblinking, jaw clenched tight. In the rearview mirror, his reflection stared back at me and not the face of a driver, but of someone used to control. Someone who expected to be obeyed without question.

But fear wasn't the first thing that hit me, it was instinct. Cold. Sharp. Immediate.

I leaned forward again, my voice slicing through the steady hum of the engine. "I said stop the car!" My tone dropped to ice. Still, nothing. Not a glance. Not a word.

He turned the wheel sharply, steering us onto another street narrower, darker. The city's noise faded behind us until there was nothing left. No cars. No people. Just the low rumble of the engine and the hollow echo of tires rolling over cracked asphalt.

Through the windshield, I could see how empty it was, shuttered shops, flickering streetlights, and the kind of silence that pressed against your skin.

My pulse spiked and every instinct screamed the same warning now. This wasn't just a wrong turn. It was a dangerous one.

A chill slithered down my spine, but I forced my voice to stay steady. "Hey," I said again, tapping on his shoulder calmly this time, though my hand trembled. "Did you not hear me? You're going the wrong way."

"Relax, miss," he replied, voice low and calm, almost bored. "It's just a short cut." He said calmly but the coolness in his tone made my pulse race faster.

He kept driving, eyes forward, steering with a steady hand. The air inside the car grew thick, heavy, and suffocating.

"Do you even fucking know where you're going?" I asked, my voice rising as I reached for the door handle. I didn't care if I broke an arm jumping out, anything was better than being taken to God-knows-where.

Before I could push, a soft click echoed from the console. The locks slid into place tightly and the door wouldn't budge.

My stomach dropped. "What the..."

"Hey! Stop the car right now!" I shouted, twisting toward the open window, my only escape left. Panic clawed up my throat as I spotted two men walking on the sidewalk. I waved frantically. "Help me! Hey! Over here!"

And before my voice could even reach them or they could even turn to my direction, he pressed another button on the dashboard.

The window beside me began to slide up with a smooth whirr, followed by a soft, mechanical hiss as the tinted glass sealed shut. "Wait...no!" I gasped, jerking my hands back just in time before it closed completely with a final cold click and the sound of the city voices, footsteps, life vanished in an instant. And then there was silence.

This was a trap. The realization hit me and fear surged through my veins. Panic clawed at my throat as I started shouting and pounding against the glass. My voice cracked. "What the hell?!"

"Hey! Somebody help me! Please!" I slammed my palm against the window, my breath fogging the cool glass. "Help!" I screamed toward the empty street but the sound only thudded dully against the windshield and died. No one could hear me.

I hit the window again, harder this time, until my hands ached. "Hey! Somebody help me! Please!" The words came out broken, desperate. My breath came fast, fogging the glass over and over. "Help! Help!!" But it was useless. I couldn't break off the window and the sound bounced off the windows and died there.

Through the dark tint, I could see a few moody people on the sidewalk, talking, laughing, alive, but none of them looked my way. They couldn't see me. To them, I didn't exist.

My breath hitched as I turned toward the man driving, the one with the power to unlock the door. My chest heaved, and my hands stung from the useless pounding against the window. "Please," I whispered hoarsely, voice breaking. "Please let me out."

He didn't respond.

The car kept gliding forward smooth, steady and unstoppable down a road that felt like it led straight into nowhere. Fear flared in my chest like a struck match, hot and consuming. Outside, the streets blurred past in streaks of gray and gold. The few pedestrians I could see were too far away, too oblivious to notice me.

Then it hit me again and I remembered my phone. My purse was on the seat beside me. With shaking fingers, I fumbled for it, yanking the zipper open and digging until I found the smooth edge of my phone. My thumb darted over the screen, dialing the corps' emergency number.

The screen blinked. No Service.

My heart dropped. I tried again. Nothing. No bars, no signal, just a blank, mocking void. I switched to calling another number, then another but each call failed.

My mind spun through possibilities, and none of them were good.

"Fuck," I hissed under my breath, slamming my palm against the seat. "Please...just let me out," I cried, my voice trembling now and he didn't even look at me.

His face stayed blank, eyes locked on the road, jaw tight. He didn't care. Not about my voice, not about the tears sliding down my cheeks, not about the panic choking me.

Desperation clawed up my throat. I reached forward and tapped the back of his seat. "Please," I said again, voice cracking. "Please pull over. I won't scream, I swear. Just let me out. Please."

Nothing.

I reached farther, my hand trembling as I touched his shoulder even though he was scaring me, "Please, I'm begging you whatever this is, I won't tell anyone, just..."

He didn't move. Didn't blink. He just glanced at me once through the rearview mirror, then looked away, as if my panic wasn't even worth acknowledging.

Anger snapped inside me. I was ready to put up a fight with him if it meant I'd get out of this car alive. "Let me go!" I screamed, reaching forward to grab his arm. "Do you hear me?! Stop this car right now!"

Still nothing.

I shoved at him again, harder this time, and his grip slipped on the wheel for a second. The car jolted, tires skidding briefly before he steadied it, his hand slamming back onto the steering wheel.

And then, a deep, cold voice came from the front passenger seat, a voice I hadn't even realized existed until that moment.

"Sit back," the man said, his tone low and sharp. "And shut up." His voice was calm and almost casual but there was command in it, the kind that left no room for argument.

Before I could respond, a flicker of movement in the front seat caught my eye. As the man turned slightly from the front seat towards me, my breath caught. The driver wasn't working alone.

I hadn't realized there was another man sitting there silent until now, blending so completely into the dark leather interior that he might as well have been part of it.

His broad shoulders filled the seat, his dark suit stretched taut over a body that looked carved from stone. The fabric strained across his chest and arms, every line of him built for strength, not show. When he shifted slightly, the subtle ripple of muscle beneath the suit spoke of quiet, effortless strength.

His face was unreadable, hard, still, and utterly devoid of any emotion and behind the steel-rimmed glasses on his face, his eyes gleamed faintly in the dim dashboard light, reflecting cold metal instead of warmth. The moment his gaze met mine, I felt the weight of it, cold and assessing, dangerous enough to make the air in the car grow colder and a shiver to race down my spine.

Then, slowly, he reached into his jacket. A soft rustle. A faint metallic click as he pulled out a sleek, black gun. Its barrel glinted faintly as he leveled it directly at me without hesitation.

"Quiet," he said.

Just one word. Flat. Controlled. And deadly to silent me forever.

It froze me. Completely.

The hum of the engine suddenly felt louder, heavier, a low drum beating in my ears. My heart pounded against my ribs, and a cold, horrifying thought slipped through my mind, 'Whoever had hired these men knew exactly what they were doing'.

I swallowed hard, forcing air into my lungs, trying to steady my trembling hands on my purse and my fast racing heart beat. "Who are you working for?" I managed to ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"No questions. Just stay quiet," he said flatly. "Or I'll make you." he added with the sharp click of the safety coming off, making my breath hitch.

I froze, slowly raising my hands in surrender as the car hummed quietly down the deserted lane.

The gunman's mouth twitched into something almost like a smile. "Now sit back and enjoy the ride," he said politely yet final and I obeyed, sinking back against the leather seat.

My heart pounded so violently it felt like it might burst. Every breath burned. My throat tightened, my fingers numb where they gripped the strap of my purse. I forced myself to breathe, slow, shaky, deliberately counting each inhale like a prayer, trying to map escape routes I didn't have.

If there was anyone in the world who'd want me dead, it would be Neven. The thought hit me hard. Of course it was him. He must've sent them. This was his revenge. His punishment for sleeping with his uncle. Now I regret it until my last breath.

The man slid the gun back into his suit and faced forward again, his posture stiff and alert, like someone who'd done this a hundred times before.

The car moved quietly through the empty streets, the tires whispering over the asphalt like a countdown. It swallowed city lights and time, gliding past a blur of windows and strangers who couldn't see me through the tinted glass.

I sat there frozen, my hands trembling in my lap. 'So this is how it ends', I thought bitterly, staring out at the passing dark. Not with a goodbye but with silence as the car accelerated and the road narrowed.

My heart hammered as a cold, sinking certainty took hold. I had underestimated Neven, he was really smart, fast enough to have all this planned out and far more dangerous than I'd ever imagined. Whatever plan he had waiting for me wasn't coming. It was already in motion.