Silbie Luna just wanted to pass her classes and become the first undergrad co-captain for her derby team. She never thought shooting a promo for the athletic department would lead to a coveted role in a highly anticipated movie series. But not only...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Owen sat on his cot and massaged his leg. Damn thing was swollen so big he could barely walk. He hadn't slept more than a few hours during the last three days—not since he and Sam returned from wherever the hell his captors had hauled them. Owen underestimated them. They'd covered his head with a hood, making it impossible to see anything. They'd traveled for miles, twisting and turning so much he'd lost his sense of direction.
Owen pulled the threadbare blanket tight around his body, but his teeth kept chattering. In forty-eight more hours, the ransom deadline expired.
What then?
The Army had ways to track the phone, but since the video was made in one place, and they were held in another, he prayed they'd figured out his clue.
Sweat beaded his brow, and his eyes drifted to the corner web. What would happen to Snooki once he was gone? Not that she needed him. Just the opposite. She'd been fine before he showed up, so what made him think she would suffer without him?
Squinting against the dimming light, he bolted upright. The web—empty. He scanned the walls and floor. No sign of her. It would be dark soon. She needed to be home. He didn't want to be left alone with thoughts of his future. The clock was ticking and with each minute, death closed in on him. Sam had said if no one came through with money, heads would roll. God, sometimes he hated that Sam could understand their language.
He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and a thick layer of panic settled over him.
He didn't want to die. Not here. Not now. Not without his family. Silbie.
He tried to swing his feet to the floor, but his limbs were numb. Paralyzed with fear, he gulped air.
Was he having a heart attack?
His arms tingled, then throbbed. He clutched his chest. Wheezed in a shallow breath. It'd serve the bastards right to find him dead of natural causes. Despite his anxiety, he couldn't help but laugh.
A series of explosions snapped Owen from his thoughts. Flashbang. Once a soldier experienced the sound and odor of a stun grenade there was no forgetting it. He jumped to his feet, stumbled, then regained his footing, and rushed forward. The door burst open and a cloud of smoke followed two soldiers into the room.
"Sergeant Filgard?"
Was this a dream? He couldn't be sure. His head spun and his ears rang. Tears flooded his eyes. He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He nodded.
"We're here to take you home."
Owen hobbled forward.
"Can you walk?"
"Yeah, just not very fast. There's another prison, Sam."
"Got it." The soldier wasn't much bigger than Owen, but in one quick motion, he bent, circled Owen's knees with his arms and heaved him over his shoulder.
