Three

Audrey's POV

I sat by the window, watching the raindrops fall to the ground as tears fell freely from my eyes. The hunger pangs in my stomach were a persistent reminder that I needed to find something to eat, but sadly, I was out of groceries-and I couldn't, and would not, go out there without any assurance I wouldn't be shot on sight. I hadn't been able to move since last night. The fear of being killed was just a feeling I couldn't seem to shake off.

Mrs. Rachel called earlier this morning, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her anything, even though my whole insides screamed otherwise. What if she gets killed, too? I can't let that happen.

The loud banging on the front door pulled me out of my reverie as fear gripped me.

He's here for me again.

Is he really going to murder me in my own home?

I don't want to die-not yet.

The thoughts racing through my mind fueled my panic as I frantically searched for a way out that didn't involve the front door.

"Maybe I could just climb down from the window," I thought, already moving as the idea formed. A few injuries couldn't possibly be worse than a bullet to the head, right?

With that in mind, I quickly tied a few blankets together, making sure they were tight enough to bear my weight. With one last glance around my room, I took a deep breath and put my left leg out first.

"Come on, Audrey, you got this," I muttered, preparing myself as the height got to my head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Just as I was about to cross over completely, a voice spoke up behind me, startling me. I slipped, screaming as I prepared for the impact of the fall.

"You can open your eyes now," the voice said again after what felt like minutes-but was actually only a few seconds. I slowly realized I wasn't feeling any pain from the fall, which could only mean...

"Don't touch me!" I shrieked, quickly moving away when I realized he had caught me.

"You're welcome," he replied, a bored look on his face as he watched me like I had infected him with my touch.

"Are you done?" he asked dryly after a few minutes.

"Is this the point where you kill me already? Because if you're going to kill me, I'd advise you to make it quick," I spat out, trying to sound strong despite the fear in my heart.

"Kill you? I wish," he scoffed.

"What does that even mean?" I asked, staring at him sceptically.

"Pack whatever you'll need for the next few months-things that can't be easily replaced. Personal belongings that are important to you. No unnecessary clothes," he said suddenly, his tone flat like he was talking about the weather.

"Uhm... I don't understand," I stuttered, wide-eyed.

"You have less than fifteen minutes. Your time's already counting, so if I were you, I'd get moving," he said, his eyes wandering around the room-yet somehow, still focused on me. Something about this guy was creepy and scary, but I had a feeling he wasn't the one after my life. Right?

"You must be delusional to think you can just waltz into my room-which I still don't know how you got into with all the locks-and expect me to just up and follow you. If you want to kill me, just kill me here so my parents can at least find my body," I shot back, anger and irritation slowly flooding my system.

He stared at me for a moment, a slow, dark smile forming on his face as he stepped closer. I backed away carefully.

"Trust me, Blondie. If I were here to kill you, I wouldn't have even graced you with the opportunity to see my face," he whispered right beside my ear.

Goosebumps spread over my skin as I shivered.

Yup. Definitely creepy.

"I'll be downstairs. And just because we're meeting for the first time, let me inform you: I hate being kept waiting. So please do yourself a favor, and don't keep me waiting, Blondie," he said as he walked off, leaving me alone with my racing heart and wild thoughts.

According to my calculation, I had ten minutes to escape. There was no way I was going anywhere with him. I could report all of this to the police and hopefully be safe-without the creepy guy being part of the picture.

With that renewed determination, I headed back to the window, taking three deep breaths before grabbing my improvised rope and slowly climbing down, careful not to look down too much to avoid letting my phobia for heights takes over.

"You know, it's disobedience and stubbornness like yours that gets most people killed-as if they didn't matter."

His voice came from behind me again, just as my feet touched the ground.

"Are you serious right now? Are you some kind of spirit or something?" I asked, startled, throwing my hands in the air.

"Well, I gave you patience, and you clearly didn't need it with the stunt you just pulled. So now we're doing things the hard way."

He ignored my question. Before I could react, he suddenly lifted me off the ground and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down!" I yelled, struggling, but it was pointless. His arms were pure muscle, and I didn't stand a chance.

He ignored me completely, walking in a direction I couldn't see due to my awkward position. Despite everything, I didn't feel nauseated. In fact, his broad shoulders and firm grip were annoyingly steady.

Eventually, he placed me in the passenger seat of a car I hadn't even noticed earlier and shut the door before I could try anything. The windows were tinted, making it hard to see outside.

"Now, I'd advise you to take a nap or something. This is going to be a rough ride," he said a few minutes later, sitting on the other side. A glass divider separated the driver's seat from the passenger area-offering a kind of privacy I really didn't want. He could easily kill me in here, and no one would know.

"You can't do this. This is kidnapping!" I cried out once the reality hit me.

"Trust me, this is one of the nicest things I've ever done. But if you say so, I'll gladly add kidnapping to my portfolio," he replied smugly, running a hand through his hair.

He reached out and knocked twice on the glass, and the car started almost immediately-but that wasn't what caught my eye. The gun tucked by his waist did. I gulped in fear.

"I won't use it unless you force me to. So sleep now, Blondie," he said with a dark smirk, noticing where my gaze had landed.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the storm in my head.

He tilted his head to look at me but said nothing before returning to his phone. As we sat there, I found myself actually looking at him. If things were different, I wouldn't mind. He was the perfect definition of a beautiful man-sharp jawline, prominent cheekbones, perfectly plump and pink lips. His hands ran through his mop of black hair, which framed his face just right, never falling into his eyes. Every slight movement flexed his muscles. The kind of man you only see in movies or novels.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to stare?" he said suddenly, startling me.

"I wasn't staring," I replied quickly, turning toward the window to hide my face-even though I couldn't see anything outside.

"Sure," he replied sarcastically, then silence fell between us.

My eyes began to droop. The exhaustion from lack of food and sleep was catching up to me, despite my mind screaming to stay alert.

"I'd advise you not to fight it. You should rest up. You'll need all the energy you can get. We still have a flight to catch-and Italy is approximately nine hours away," he said, still glued to his phone.

Sleep clouded my brain, and it took a moment for his words to register.

"Excuse me-did you just say Italy?" I panicked.

"I don't enjoy repeating myself," he said evenly, as if he were taking me to the park, not dragging me thousands of miles away.

I was about to protest when the sound of gunshots and screams pierced the air.

"Shit," he muttered, reaching for the gun at his side. That's when I noticed the knives strapped across his back like it was normal.

"Stay here and keep your head down," he ordered, knocking on the glass again. The car came to an abrupt stop.

He didn't need to tell me twice.

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