Chapter 3

I slowly nod my head. I can’t find my voice to speak.

I expect him to yell, but he accepts the gestured answer and removes the chains. My wrists throb, and it hurts to move my arms, my shoulders aching from being in the same position for what feels like hours.

Extending his arm, he proffers his hand, and I have no choice but to take it. He drags me to my feet and studies me, the roll of the boat making it hard to stay composed. It also doesn’t help that my body trembles.

And then he slaps me on the ass, pushing me toward the two silent, muscular men at the elevator.

Without another word to me, the man moves on to the next person. I don’t get a chance to see what Evan looks like because one of the men on the elevator snatches my hands and yanks me onto it. Tears run down my cheeks, and my mouth quivers.

Neither of them says anything as they hit the button to send the elevator to the deck.

I whisper a prayer, my whole body cold. I’m afraid to see where I am. I’m afraid of what happens next as the elevator door opens. Bright sunshine streaks across the posh yacht, and the salty sea breeze drifts around me. I automatically gulp in a deep breath, trying my best not to lose my shit.

“All right, Sasha. Strip. Everything must come off.” The other man, the one not gripping my wrists, gets in front of me and gives me a once-over. “Don’t be shy. I won’t hurt you.”

That’s what they always fucking say in the movies. But I’m already hurt. I’m terrified, and I know that once my clothes come off…

I dart my gaze toward the side of the boat and spot an island not too far away. I’m a good enough swimmer that I know I can make it. I have to try. There’s no fucking way I’m stripping down for these men and doing as I’m told. I need to escape.

Without thinking, I sprint toward the side of the boat and climb the rungs. One of the men shouts my name, but I ignore him. I nearly fall from the side of the boat but manage to launch myself a couple feet away. The world blurs around me. I brace myself to hit the water. It swallows me, and I kick my legs and stay under for as long as I can. I don’t care which direction I swim as long as I get enough space between me and the boat. Maybe I’ll have a fighting chance. I’ll never know if I don’t just do it.

My lungs burn, and my vision shadows. The salt irritates my eyes, but the water is clear enough to see somewhat as I swim. A shadow of a boat flies over me, and I panic, releasing the breath I’m holding. I have no choice but to kick toward the sunlight. I just need one breath. One breath and I can get farther away. Maybe they won’t catch me. If I make it to the beach, I can run. I could hide and wait for them to give up.

Breaking through the surface, I gasp for breath and fling my hair out of my face, rubbing my arm across my eyes to clear my vision. I spin around and catch sight of the yacht a couple dozen feet away. The current grabs me, and I stay with it, using it to pull me along.

“There she is! Portside!” a masculine voice shouts over a megaphone.

I groan and splash my way in the direction of the shore. If I can get close enough, I can body surf and ride the waves to the sand.

Diving under, I freestyle swim, pushing my body to its limits. My shoulders ache, and tightness clutches my chest. It’s hard to focus. I just want to escape. I have to escape.

Once again, I have to surface, my lungs aching to breathe. I spin underwater and look up at the glittering surface above, trying to catch sight of the small, motorized raft.

It can’t be far away from me since I’m not a fast swimmer.

I spot it next to the yacht again. What the hell? They’ve given up on trying to get me. Instead, I watch as the man from the cell guides a couple prisoners onto the raft. They’re all naked and some of them cry. I can’t believe this is truly happening.

I don’t wait long enough to see them step aboard the raft. Turning toward the island, I kick my arms and legs, swimming in even, consistent strokes. I do my best to save my energy. The moment I can touch the sandy bottom, I’m going to run for it.

The waves lift me up and drop me the closer I get to shore, and I manage to catch one and ride it until my knees hit the sand.

White foam engulfs me, and I plant my palms on the sandy beach. My chest heaves with every breath I take. I can hardly see anything, the sun shining too brightly and reflecting off the glittering sand.

I whip my head around and try to figure out which direction to head. My best bet is to enter the rainforest only two dozen feet away. I don’t know what kind of animals reside here, but I’m more terrified of the monsters on the yacht. I’ll just stay near the beach but out of view. I just need somewhere to hide. I’m only one person. I can’t imagine them wasting time doing whatever the fuck they plan to do.

A deep, guttural growl reverberates across my back, sending a shiver through me. I inhale a sharp breath and spin on the balls of my feet, watching as a wolf bounds from the waves, sopping wet. That can’t be. This can’t fucking be happening.

The sight of the aggressive animal kicks me into action, and I rush toward the trees and the first rock I see. I swivel and chuck it at the wolf, hitting it in the face. It yelps and skids across the sand, slowing down.

Bending over, I scoop up another smooth rock and yell, “Stay away! Get out of here!”

I never in my wildest dreams expected I would confront a wolf like this, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t be weak. I can’t allow it to see me as prey.

Jerking my arm back, I thrust my hand forward and chuck a rock at the wolf again. It launches from the sand to avoid my attack and heads toward the trees. I lose sight of it. Fear clutches me, and I spin and dart in the opposite direction.

Something heavy collides into me, not even letting me get more than six feet away from my spot. The wolf knocks me off my feet and lands on my chest, growling in my face. I swing out my arms, punching at the wolf. It jumps off me and rams its big head into my side, rolling me over. I can’t do anything as it locks its teeth to the back of my shirt and tears at my clothes.

Another growl sounds through the air, and I struggle and try to shove the wolf off only to have another one lunge at me, snapping its teeth into my pant leg. I scream and fight, trying my best to get the beasts away from me, but I’m not strong enough. The wolves tear at my clothing, nipping at my skin, sending pain radiating through my body. But they don’t maul me. They never sink their fangs into any of my limbs or make me bleed.

A whistle sounds over my shouts, and the wolves fall away, leaving me lying in the sand crying, my clothes now ripped to shreds and scattered in pieces around me. I’ve never been so exposed in my life.

“Sasha, what did I tell you?” The man from the yacht kicks sand at me as he approaches. “You just made it that much harder on yourself.”

I don’t have a chance to get up to run. The man links his fingers through my hair and yanks me from the ground. He snatches a bag from his hip and pulls it back over my head. The sunshine cuts away. He throws me onto his shoulder, and I flail, attempting to fight.