Back to Zoe’s POV

The van reeked of sweat and gasoline. My wrists burned from the ties, my head covered with a black mask that stank of dust.

“Boss said no bruises,” one of the men muttered.

Another laughed. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not gonna be his problem much longer.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to cry. Brayden. He had to realize. He had to notice.

When the hood finally came off, I was in some basement room with concrete walls and one naked ...