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The first thing she noticed was the rhythm of the car. It moved easily, humming along reasonably and coming to slow, gradual stops. No squeal of brakes or sharp turns, not seeming to race through red lights or do anything that would attract suspicion. Just went ahead at a calm, confident pace.
It felt normal enough that Vienna almost forgot what had happened, where she was. But then as the other sensations came seeping back in, so did the memories. They swam in front of her, nightmarish, her mind still so fuzzy she couldn't tell what was real and what was a terrible dream. The man pulling up beside her, that sinister grin, his huge frame running at her through the rain, the shocking pain coursing through her body…the more her mind cleared, the more she realized it was all real.
Her chest seized. She was curled awkwardly on her side, the floor beneath her hard and shuddering with the car's movements. Her wrists were cinched together with something that didn’t give, didn’t flex—hard plastic digging into her skin no matter how carefully she shifted. Not rope. Not anything she knew. It felt foreign, industrial.
Her mouth was sealed, every breath drawn shallow through her nose, the sour taste of adhesive clinging to her tongue. Worse was the bag over her head—coarse, stale fabric pressing against her cheeks, suffocating her with its weight. She tried to lift it, but her bound hands only scraped against her chest, useless. Alarm rose in Vienna like a wave, and her legs kicked out weakly, immediately hitting the solid walls around her.
The trunk. She was in the car trunk.
Panic was a shroud that surrounded her now, her heart beating like it would burst through her throat and a muffled cry rang in her ears. Get out. Get out now. She kicked harder against the trunk's walls, a mix of terror and the aftershocks of whatever he'd used on her neck sending tremors through her body. She was trapped, couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't breathe, she was going to die -
Focus. The word ripped through her panic, sharp as a reprimand. Focus, and survive. Vienna forced herself to take stock, scanning her body top to bottom. The bag over her head - that's why she couldn't see. The tape over her mouth - slow, steady breaths made it manageable. Neck - sore and throbbing. Arms - tingling where blood flow fought against the restraints. Legs - shaking, but she could move them.
Okay. Focus.
Her chest still heaved, lungs straining against the tape, but she forced herself to count in her head. One breath in. Two. Three. Then out.
There was no way of knowing how long she'd been there incapacitated in the trunk; it could have been five minutes, it could have been an hour. He was taking her somewhere.
He took me. I’m not dead. He doesn’t want me dead. Not yet.
The thought made her stomach turn, but it was something. If he wanted her gone, she’d already be gone. That meant he wanted her for something else. Money? Ransom? Something worse? The possibilities reeled through her, each one darker than the last, but they all carried the same conclusion - he was in control.
Unless Vienna took it back.
Her fists clenched, plastic biting into her wrists. The first chance she got, she had to fight. Scratch, bite, scream - anything. If she hesitated, if she froze, she wouldn’t get another shot.
Vienna forced herself to continue breathing slowly through her nose. The tapping of rain against the car steadied her, reminding her that the outside world still existed. Someone would find her. Depending on how long she'd been here, maybe they would already be looking.
Zander.
The thought shot through her like lightning from the storm outside, bright and invigorating. She'd sent him that message at the last second - I think this guy is following me. He knew Vienna better than anyone, well enough to know that she never spoke like that. He would know something was wrong. He would get help. She repeated it in her mind like a mantra. Zander would help her. He would understand, be there for her like he always was.
She just had to survive long enough to make it count.
An indeterminable amount of time passed before the car finally slowed, and the rain stopped pattering on the ceiling all at once. The car must be in a garage. Her breath caught. The humming rhythm faltered, then stopped altogether. For one heartbeat, silence filled the air, heavier than the storm outside.
Then came the click of the trunk latch.
Vienna’s pulse spiked. Now. Now.
She braced herself, legs coiling beneath her, the word screaming in her head like a battle cry: Fight.
As soon as she felt the sudden rush of fresh air signaling the trunk opening, Vienna catapulted herself up with every ounce of strength left in her body - shrieking wildly through the gag, swinging her bound arms through the air like swords, swiping furiously until she felt them make contact with the man. He gave a huff of surprise as she hit him in the chest, and Vienna felt a burst of hope run through her. She had caught him off guard. She leapt from the trunk - and then it was over as soon as it had begun.
Her legs crumpled beneath her, stiff and tingling from being curled in one position during the car ride. She felt the man on top of her immediately, bruising grip holding her down, and her terror spiraled nearly out of control.
"You think you're just gonna run off, Vienna?"
The use of her name froze Vienna in place - how did he know? - and what she felt next was even worse: unyielding steel against her throat, unmistakable in its cold lethality.
Icy fear shot down her spine and she stilled, pleading whimpers barely making their way past the tape over her mouth.
"Yeah, you feel that, don't you? It's a sharp, sharp knife. Now, I don't want to use it on you, but I will if I have to."
His voice was calm. Measured. As if he were a teacher patiently explaining a concept to a pupil. She strained her ears for anything recognizable, something to tell her where she must know him from, but her pulse pounded so loudly in her ears she could barely make out his words at all.
"Listen to me. I'm not going to kill you. Not if you stay calm. Do you understand that?"
Not going to kill you. The words washed over her like a wave of relief. Not if you stay calm. She forced herself to steady her breathing and gave a meek, "Mmhmm," through the gag.
"Good." The knife went away and her body went limp with relief. "And I still have this."
ZAP. The sound of the stun gun shot through the air like a bullet, and Vienna's entire body jolted, ready for the pain again - but there was nothing. She could have sworn she heard a smile in the man's voice as he continued, "You don't want it again, do you?"
Vienna trembled and shook her head, any thought of fighting draining out of her. Whoever he was, this man was willing to hurt her - but also maybe willing to work with her. I don't want to use it on you. Not going to kill you. Her brain rapidly switched gears: maybe survival didn't mean fighting. Maybe she just needed to play along long enough for him to trust her.
Her stomach lurched as his arms circled around her waist, her feet leaving the ground as if she weighed nothing. Vienna's scream rattled uselessly against the tape when he slung her over his shoulder, her cheek pressed against the hard plane of his back. Every step jarred through her bones, her bound wrists digging into her ribs. She could smell the faint mix of soap and sweat on him, so close it turned her stomach. He carried her with terrifying ease, like a sack of flour, like she wasn’t even human.
Then she felt it - the shift in his stride, the faint echo of footsteps on concrete. Stairs. A descent. Each step downward felt like a nail in her coffin. Moments later they reached even ground, and she heard the click of a door closing behind them with a dizzying finality.
He tossed her onto something soft, and the shock of it nearly stole her breath. A mattress. She clawed herself upright with bound hands, trembling, her whole body curling in on itself as she pressed back against the wall. This was it. He was going to do it. Her skin prickled with dread, bracing for the worst.
But instead of climbing onto the bed, he pulled the hood away.
Light blinded her, stabbing her eyes after so long in darkness. Vienna blinked hard, her vision swimming before it came into focus.
The room was…normal. Too normal. Cream-painted walls, a neatly made bed with a navy blanket, a dresser with a television on top of it, a small table and pair of chairs in front of a kitchenette. The air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner. It looked like a dorm room stripped bare of personality, or a model apartment staged for a tour.
And him - standing a few feet away, arms crossed, expression calm. He was broad-shouldered, deliberate in every movement. She searched his features again for something recognizable, but there was still nothing. Then she met his eyes.
The instinct to flinch away, to hide, was overwhelming. His dark eyes were composed, almost amused, and he didn't bother to hide the hunger behind them.
"There you are. Nice and calm for me. Let's go over how this is going to work, Vienna."
It felt like a punch to the gut every time he said her name, leaving her winded.
“This room is yours. The bathroom through that door is yours, too. You’ll find clothes, food, soap. Use them. Keep yourself clean.”
Vienna’s throat worked behind the gag, her pulse thundering.
He gestured around the room with one broad hand. “You can watch the television. You can eat anything in the kitchen. You can read, if you find something worth reading. What you don’t do is try to leave. The doors are locked, the walls are soundproof, and there isn’t a neighbor for at least a mile. There’s nowhere to go.”
Her breath came shallow and quick, rattling against the tape.
“You’ll keep this space tidy. I don’t like mess. You’ll answer when I speak to you. Be that nice girl I saw at Lakewood, hm? Then we won't have to have any trouble. Do you understand?"
We won't have any trouble. Even as his frank words sunk in - the methodical nature of his plan, his clear knowledge of who she was - Vienna allowed herself to feel a spark of hope. Maybe if she followed his rules, she'd be safe. She gave a tentative nod, trying to ignore the lurch in her stomach as he grinned.
"Good. I'm going to take the tape off, now. I'm sure you have questions. This can be your first test: no screaming. Like I said, there's no one to hear, but I want to know if you can follow instructions."
He came closer, his fingers brushing her cheek as he peeled the tape from her mouth. Vienna gasped and swallowed thickly, trying to wet her burning lips with her tongue despite how heavy and dry it was. Words tumbled out before she could even think about what she was going to say.
"Wh - why are you doing this? What do you want?"
He just looked at her as if he had a secret joke.
"I have my reasons. You'll find out soon enough."
“P-please…” The word cracked in the middle. She darted a glance at him, searching for anything - mercy, reason, humanity - but his expression was steady, expectant.
“My parents,” she rushed out. “My parents can pay you. Whatever you want, I know they can - if it’s money, you don’t have to do this, you don’t -”
He let out a low hum, tilting his head slightly, like he was considering the offer. Then the corner of his mouth tugged upward, and the look in his eyes made her stomach twist.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I have a feeling you’ll be very valuable.”
For a heartbeat, relief flooded her - confirmation. Ransom. A transaction. Something that ended with her going home. But then she caught the faint curl of satisfaction in his voice, too deliberate to miss, and her insides turned to ice. She forced the feeling away as quickly as it came.
"How do you know my name?"
"I've been keeping a special eye on you. I know a lot about you, Vienna."
Her blood curdled and he smiled now.
"Last name DeNova. Sophomore at Lakewood University. Education major, volleyball team, volunteer club. Always hanging out with those little groups of girls from your dorm and that basketball player. Big bright smile - though I don't think someone would guess that now, would they?"
His words crashed around her, rattling her like an earthquake. Vienna's vision blurred and she swayed on the bed, trembling.
"Do I -" Her voice was hoarse with disbelief. "Do I know you?"
"You tell me," he said smoothly, not bothering to hide his self-satisfaction any longer. "Name's Alec. Do you remember seeing me anywhere? Anywhere at all?"
"Alec." Vienna tested the name on her tongue and instantly knew she had never said it before. Her voice broke between syllables, the sound sour and unsettling despite its benignity.
But as her eyes searched his person - tall solid frame, dark eyes, buzzed hair, a smirk playing at his lips - the spark of familiarity lit into a flame.
"You -" she gasped it like an accusation. "You're…the guy at Springfest?"
"Mmm." Something hard settled in his expression. "I was there. Did you tell anyone you saw me?"
Vienna thought about her quick comment to Abigail, brushed aside as quickly as it came up, and how the vague discomfort of seeing him - Alec - had vanished as the night had continued. She hadn't truly said a word to anyone about him, not enough to matter. Shame colored her cheeks as she stammered, "No, I didn't."
His face relaxed somewhat, and she felt a small smudge of relief bloom in her chest. Keep him calm, a voice in her mind said fiercely. Be nice, be quiet, be obedient, until someone gets here.
"Perfect. That's perfect."
And the knife was back. A startled noise choked out of Vienna's throat as she scrambled backwards, eyes wide with fear and betrayal.
"Relax. What did I just say about not wanting to hurt you?" Alec said it bracingly, but looked at her with a glitter of amusement in his eye. "I'm just going to cut the ties off you. Unless you'd rather they stay?"
Relief and a strange feeling of shame coursed through her. "No - sorry - I - please."
Vienna lifted her hands towards him, presenting the zip ties cinched around her chafed wrists. He leaned close with the knife to cut them off, and for a heart stopping moment she wondered if he was lying, if there was more to come. But then the knife snapped through the plastic, and he was moving away from her again.
Vienna rubbed her sore wrists, wincing at the rawness in her skin. She watched Alec warily as he slid the pocketknife back in his pocket, tossed the zip ties in the trash like they were nothing more than candy bar wrappers.
"I - I still don't understand. What do you want?"
He glanced at her, something unreadable behind his eyes.
"You'll find out soon. For now - get something to eat, get some rest."
He turned to the door, held his thumb up to a panel next to the knob. A beep sounded, and Vienna heard the lock click. She couldn't stop her jaw from dropping - his fingerprint. The door could only be opened by his fingerprint.
Panic rose in her as she realized he was leaving, leaving her with nothing but questions and dread and the knowledge that he had orchestrated this down to the most minute detail.
"Wait -" Her mind scrambled for something, anything, to calm itself, to take some modicum of control back. "My parents - d-do you need their phone number? So you can tell them - the ransom."
Alec smirked over his shoulder. "I have everything I need".
And then he was gone.
His words rang in Vienna's ears as he heard his footsteps fade away and up the stairs.
Everything I need. Did that mean he knew how to contact them already? He'd certainly had enough information on her already to be able to do that easily. Or did he mean something…else?
There's no point in thinking that now, she told herself firmly. All she needed to do now was survive. From one minute to the next. Her eyes swept the room again, taking in the simple furniture and setup. The bed was pushed against the left wall of the room, the kitchenette and table behind it. On the opposite wall, there was the dresser and television, as well as the door to the small adjoining bathroom. No windows. The door out of the room loomed behind the table.
Vienna couldn't help it - she got up and went straight to the door, rattling and pulling the knob. Locked. As if she should have expected anything else.
Hesitantly, she walked around the room, running her hand over the wood furniture. It wasn't huge, but it wasn't a cell, either - maybe 12 x 12 feet. Not a room you'd murder someone in.
But not a room you only keep someone in for a few days, either.
Vienna shook her head violently, as if she could physically dispel the thought, and peeked into the bathroom. It, too, was unsettlingly simple and clean, just a sink and a toilet and a shower lined up next to each other with a washer and dryer in the closet.
She wandered back to the bed and plopped down on it, torn between frantic restlessness and a bone-deep exhaustion. Just sitting here and waiting for whatever would come next seemed unthinkable, but what else could she do?
Someone will come. The thought came back, unbidden, and she clung to it like a lifetime. Zander knows. He's going to get help. Someone will come.
She repeated the words in her head a million ways, trying not to feel the walls of the room press in around her.