Chapter 3
I watched everything with a cold, dead stare—my heart went ice cold.
Back in my last life, after Jack picked me first, was it just like this? Did the kidnappers drag Wendy off the same way?
Did she kick off her whole "tragic victim" routine right after?
What a show. Seriously.
And me? I was nothing but the saddest, most pathetic pawn in their whole twisted drama.
The last kidnapper yanked the ropes tight around my wrists and ankles, digging them deep into my skin. The pain snapped me back to reality, keeping me wide awake.
I couldn't just sit here and wait to die.
No way I was letting the nightmare from my last life play out again.
Since Jack wasn't coming to save me, I was on my own.
I quietly tested the ropes around my wrists, scanning the factory for anything that could help.
Abandoned machines, stacks of oil drums, and shattered windows up high let scattered light spill across the floor.
We were out on the edge of town; Jack and his squad wouldn't get here anytime soon.
There were five of them, counting the boss. They didn't look like hardcore criminals—more like reckless hired guns, just here for a quick payday.
My eyes caught sight of a rusty iron bar lying a few feet away.
I had one shot at this.
Time ticked by, every second dragging on.
The factory was so quiet you could hear a pin drop—just the kidnappers pacing around and the occasional whisper breaking the silence.
The guy watching me was getting antsy, glancing at his watch every few seconds.
After about twenty minutes, the sound of police sirens started up outside, getting closer and closer.
The head kidnapper stiffened. "Damn, they're here already! Logan, go check it out!"
One of the thugs rushed over to the door and peeked outside.
This was my chance.
While the guy watching me was distracted by the sirens and turned his head toward the door, I managed to grab a sharp piece of rock from the floor with my bound hands and started scraping it desperately against my wrist ropes.
The rough stone scraped my skin raw, burning like hell, but I didn't care.
The livestream chat was even more hyped than I was.
[Holy crap! Is Sophia really about to break out?]
[Go Sophia! Kick these scumbags' asses!]
[Keep grinding! Faster! Almost there—the rope's about to snap!]
The sirens were getting closer, and the kidnappers were clearly freaking out.
"Boss! There are a bunch of cars outside! SWAT's here!" the lookout at the door yelled, voice cracking with panic.
The head kidnapper didn't hesitate for a second, ordering, "Shit! Take the cash and the girl—move, out the back!"
Another thug rushed over, trying to grab me.
Right as his hand was about to touch me, the rope around my wrists finally broke free.
I didn't hesitate for a second—rolled out of his reach, kicked off the ground, and darted straight for that rusty iron bar I'd been eyeing like a predator.
"You bitch! Think you can mess with me?" the thug snarled, eyes blazing as he whipped out a knife.
I gripped the iron bar, the cold metal sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins.
Three years married to Jack—sure, I wasn't the king of special ops like he was, but just living with him, plus those fighting moves he'd shown me when he felt like it? More than enough to deal with losers like this.
I twisted aside, dodging the knife's lunge, and with a sharp whoosh, swung the iron bar straight into the back of his knee.
"Ah!" the thug screamed, collapsing to his knees.
I didn't hesitate—brought the iron bar crashing down on the back of his neck, knocking him out cold without a sound.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
The other thugs instantly pulled out their weapons, closing in from all sides.
Those comments went wild.
[Beautiful hit! Awesome move!]
[Sophia's so alpha! Jack must be out of his mind to ditch a kickass wife like her!]
[Keep it up! Don't let up!]