I fought back, I remembered that much. But there were too many of them. And now, I was here—being carted off to some unknown fate. My baby stirred inside me, a soft fluttering that reminded me why I couldn’t give up. I had to survive. I had to protect the only thing I had left.
At some point, the fight drained out of me. My eyes closed, and the darkness swallowed me whole.
When I woke again, the air was stale and cold. My head pounded, and my limbs were stiff from being tied for so long. I opened my eyes to dim light filtering through cracks in the wooden walls. It was an abandoned place—dusty, silent, and filled with the scent of decay. My hands were still bound, my mouth still taped. Panic threatened to rise, but I forced myself to stay calm. The baby needed me strong.
Time passed slowly. I lost track of the hours. Then, finally, I heard footsteps—two sets. The door creaked open, and two men walked in. They were rough-looking, their eyes hard and suspicious.
“She’s awake,” one of them grunted.
“Good. Means less dead weight,” the other sneered.