I don't remember actually getting kidnapped. It was just minute I was walking home, and the next I find myself half-conscious in a large dirty room, alone. Head spinning, I sat up and took in my surroundings. Not that there was much to look at. The room was dirty, but when I tapped on it, it made the sound metal would make. When I looked in the corner of the room, I almost screamed. There was a boy lying there, face half covered in blood. He had blonde hair and handsome features, reminding me of someone I knew…no, it couldn't be could it? But when the boy moved, looking around, my suspicion rose. Then his eyes locked with mine, I gasped because those suspicions were confirmed.

My name is Ellie Smith. I'm 14 years old. I have wavy brown/chestnut hair that falls a quarter of the way down my back, greeny/blue eyes with orange flaring around my pupil. I am not very pretty or slim, I am not the cleverest but I'm near the top. I am not amazing at sports but I am quite good. My mother died when I way a toddler and my dad works for the SAS.

As I looked at the boy in the corner, I became quite scared. I had heard rumours about this boy, cruel horrible rumours that should never had been made. But what I don't know the truth, so I don't know what to think about him.

All I know is he is Alex Rider. That he skipped school for almost a year after his uncle died in a car crash, that he always returned, but with bruises and scars and a weary look in those chocolate brown orbs of his. That he is tanned and muscled, clever, polite, athletic. That he's fit. But I don't know the real him. That's why I am scared right now.

"Alex?..." I asked cautiously, taking a step towards him.

Miraculously, he stood up and walked over to me, so we were barely a foot apart. My heart rate doubled and my breath caught in my throat. Another thing I knew. I loved Alex Rider once. I love him now. Seeing him creates a little firework show inside me.

"Ellie, are you okay?" he asked urgently.

"Yes of course, are you alright though? You look awful." I answered back.

Shrugging, he muttered "I've had worse."

I nodded in a silent agreement.

It was dimly lit in the room, but his eyes sparked. I gazed into those eyes, lost, not sure how to continue.

The door burst open and a man came in, flanked by 4 guards, each holding hand guns. Alert, Alex stood protectively in front of me, taking up a fighting stance. I too, took up a fighting stance behind him. I'm a brown belt in karate, as my dad had made me, saying it was a risk he couldn't take if I didn't know how to fight.

The man was ugly. His eyes were black and dull, sunken into the narrow sockets. His nose was crooked, obvious that it had been broken. The slimy black stuff that clung to his head was, unbelievably, hair. Hideous is what I had decided to nickname him. He rolled his lifeless orbs at us and beckoned someone from outside the door. More guards came, each holding a limp form. 4 figures were dragged in and dumped, all clearly unconscious. I stood frozen, behind Alex, trusting he would protect me. It was strange, but the men looked familiar, incredibly familiar.

Slowly, we both made our way over to the men in a pile. They were dressed in khaki gear.

But I looked at one, and my heart skipped a beat.