Chapter 3

I sat on the bed for a while, trying to get my head straight.

First, act clueless.

I couldn't let Kevin know I recognized this place, and I definitely couldn't let him get suspicious. I needed to figure out how many other girls he had lined up.

Second, find a way to contact the outside.

Kevin had definitely taken my phone. But I knew the only spot in Stonebridge Hollow with any signal under that crooked tree at the village entrance, you could sometimes get two bars.

If I could get my hands on a phone, even one text would do the trick.

Third, wait.

Wait for the right moment.

Can't rush this.

Kevin might be an idiot, but he's done this before he won't drop his guard easily.

I had to be even more patient than him.

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

Someone was coming.

I immediately lay back down, closed my eyes, and tensed up.

The door opened.

The smell of cheap tobacco mixed with mud hit my nose.

"You awake?" a rough, gravelly voice.

He was Jack.

I slowly "opened" my eyes, putting on a dazed, scared look.

"W...who are you? Where am I?" my voice was trembling.

Nailed it.

Jack stood in the doorway, taking up half the frame.

He'd gotten a lot bigger since I was a kid. His round belly strained against a dusty gray T-shirt, and his cheeks squeezed his eyes into tiny slits.

He looked me up and down.

That look, giving me the once-over, like I was up for auction.

Blatant, like he was sizing up a farm animal.

"Don't be scared," he said, grinning and showing off a row of yellow teeth. "I'm Jack Strong. You'll be living here from now on."

My eyes went wide, my lips trembling. "What did you say? Live here? Where's my boyfriend? Where's Kevin? I want to see him."

"He's gone," Jack said, completely unfazed. "From now on, you're mine."

Mine. I almost lost it.

The last guy who tried to claim I was "his" was the basketball rep in my class. He tried to show off, but I juked him and he ended up flat on the floor.

But now was not the time to break through.

I started crying.

Full-on ugly crying, snot and tears everywhere, loud enough that even the neighbor's dog started howling. "Let me go, I want to go home, I'm a college student, You can't do this to me."

Standard victim response in the Textbook.

I know this routine by heart. My dad's a detective, so I've heard at least a hundred stories about women getting trafficked.

The first thing any kidnapped woman does is cry, fight, and scream for help. Traffickers have seen it all, they don't even care.

But if I didn't put on the act, they'd get suspicious.

So I went all out, bawling and slamming the bed so hard the boards rattled.

Jack didn't even flinch.

He turned around and walked out, tossing over his shoulder: "Cry all you want. When you're done, come out and eat."

The door closed.

I stopped crying in a heartbeat.

Clean and precise. Stops immediately upon command.

Couldn't help but smirk.

Step one, complete.

In their eyes, I'm a scared, helpless girl who only knows how to cry.

Perfect.

I started scoping out the room.

The window wasn't locked, but there were two wooden bars nailed across it. Not iron, if I really tried, I could pry them off, but it'd be loud as hell.

The door was bolted from the outside with an old-school latch, one good kick and it'd pop right open.

But I didn't need to run.

Run? For what?

This was my turf.

What I needed was a phone.

Or someone. Someone who knew me.

Stonebridge Hollow had less than two hundred households, and I'd knocked on every single door.

If one person recognized me, my grandpa would hear about it in no time.

And my grandpa, he'd flip this whole village on its head.