Chapter 1: Denial


She's walking, the city lamps making her dark blonde hair glow orange, the air frosting her breath until it is visible. She is talking into her cell phone, her gloved hand waving animatedly as she argues with someone. She hisses and then stops in the middle of a word, listening for a second before growling a response. She is fiery, fierce.

She is their next target.

He walks behind her, trying to imagine the color of her eyes. He won't get to see them until they arrive at their hiding place, though. He pinches the soft, dark hood between his index finger and thumb, waiting.

A car turns the corner, and he looks behind him for a moment. There they are. They pull over next to her, and he falls back, making sure to stay out of her sight as Eric smiles charmingly and asks for directions.

She brushes her hair away from her face. "I don't really know where that is. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?" Eric insists, frowning. He looks genuinely lost. He's a chillingly good actor...

"Yeah," she starts.

He lifts the hood, prepared. He steps forward quickly, standing directly behind her.

"I've never been there before. But if you'd like, I can—" she breaks off in a scream as he puts the hood over her head, enveloping her in darkness. The door of the van opens, and they haul her inside.

He kneels on her back, right between her shoulders, and yanks her flailing hands behind her, tying them quickly.

She starts to kick instead. He sits on her legs while he ties her ankles together, and she screams in frustration and fear. "Let go of me," she hisses over and over. "Let me go!" He makes the mistake of putting his hand over her mouth to shut her up. She bites him hard, and pain shoots through his hand. When he looks down, he realizes that even though she has a hood, she's drawn blood.

She will be difficult to keep. They will have to tie her and lock her in the room so she doesn't escape. Suddenly he wants Friday to come sooner than ever before. Friday they'll be paid, and they'll move on to their next target.

Eric finally stops, and he yanks her up, making sure that she can't struggle. They carry her inside. There they have masks they will use so that they can reveal her face for the ransom videos.

There is a room, with a cot and four blank, white walls. The walls don't reach all the way to the ceiling, which is twenty or thirty feet up and covered in tubes and beams. The light is gray and clinical, making the place look eerie. They put her on the cot, and she stiffens, preparing to fight again.

They yank the hood away from her face, and she sees black masked faces and gloved hands, and long sleeves. She can hardly even make out their skin color—they planned it that way. "What do you want with me?" she asks hoarsely. The redness of her face indicates she's been crying.

"We know who you are," Eric says. "Your father owes us. We're going to make sure he pays, or else you will."

She heaves a sigh. "I can't believe this is happening."


She stares blankly at the ceiling above her, laying with her wrists tied together and her ankle cuffed to the metal footboard of the cot. He comes in to bring her breakfast, but she doesn't acknowledge him. When he comes for lunch, she hasn't touched her breakfast.

"You need to eat."

"Not hungry."

"You better eat," he says threateningly.

"I said I'm not hungry." she says flatly. "Do you want to clean my vomit today? Didn't think so. Go away."

He places the tray and takes the first one, exiting the room and locking it. Some part of him is irked that she thinks she can talk to her kidnapper that way, but most of him likes her attitude. She has fire.

He prays that Prior pays up.


"Read the card," he growls in her ear. She is sitting in the chair, her upper arms tied to the chair so that she can hold the large card in her hand.

He has a pistol in his pocket, and he pulls it out, flicking off the safety.

She watches him, her eyes blank with disinterest. "You want your money. You aren't going to shoot me."

"I will if we don't get our money, and we won't get our money if you don't read the damn ransom card."

She sighs and turns to the camera about six feet away from her. She clears her throat, and her hands shake just a little bit. "We have your daughter," she whispers. At a glare from one of the men, she starts over, louder. "We have your daughter. You will pay Dauntless by the end of this Friday or..." her voice breaks off and her hands shake again. "Or we will kill her."

She swallows as she ends the note. Not looking up.

For fun, he pulls the trigger on the gun, right next to her ear.

She jumps, but it only clicks.

He laughs at her as she releases a trembling breath, tears pouring down her cheeks. "This isn't happening," she whispers. "This can't be happening."