THIRTY-NINE | AND INTO THE FIRE

I cough and groan around a cloth in my mouth as I come to. My head's pounding, like a drummer decided to take up residence in my skull. My hands are bound in front of me, tied tightly by something thick and hard. I test them, pulling my wrists and tugging them this way and that, but they're as secure as Mom's knotts. Then I notice my ankles are also bound in the same fashion. *Pretty thorough work*... Blinking against the disorienting darkness, I wiggle around a bit and am rewarded with a bout of nausea.

The movement of the car beneath me isn't helping. Though I can't see the sounds of tires on pavement are recognizable enough. And the smell of exhaust fumes. Again, the nausea twists at my already twisted stomach and I groan again. I have no choice but to breathe through my nose and work through the sickening feeling inside as I try to reorient my scattered brain.

I reach out in the darkness, my bound hands hitting a smooth, metallic surface. I growl as the car goes over a bump, jostling my stomach and aching head. The cloth in my mouth is bone dry, stuffed in and secured with strip of fabric around my head. I try to expel the stuff from my mouth, but the stuff doesn't budge. I lose strength to struggle, my lethargic body achy and annoyingly weak for some reason.

*In the trunk of a car. Perfect. Just perfect*.

I lay back again, counting the seconds as they tick by while my body slowly regains strength. In the meantime, I try to remember what happened. Bits and pieces of memory stir in my head and I mentally retrace my steps before this happened. I was hiding in that shop. Paris and Ryker showed up. And then a Hunter attacked us... I almost drank her...and then... I groan again, this time because of my own stupidity.

The Hunter must have had an partner. I don't remember the face of the person who shot me, but those bullets didn't feel like the standard silver-coated shit that most Hunters use. I mean, it's not like I've been shot with one before, but you'd think I'd be dead if I'd gotten hit with one of those, right? Or maybe I was, but because I'm also a vampire, I didn't die.

*What if they're just going to dispose my body somewhere cause they assume I'm dead?*

*No...then why'd they bind me? Why didn't they do what all Hunter do and chop off my head? No...unless they're amateurs? Or are planning on torturing me for information?*

That thought sends spikes of fear through me. Not only do I know the locations of two Wolven Packs, but I'm also aware of the locations of at least seven others around the world. *Oh shit*...

The car suddenly stop moving and the engine shuts off. I freeze, holding my breath as I wait for my captor to come kill me - or drag me off to some hole to torture me. But I only hear the vague crunching of even footsteps walking away from the vehicle. Then nothing. I wait another second, then start squirming again.

Whoever's got me now probably doesn't know I'm conscious yet, so if I can just get untied while they're distracted, I think I can get out of here somehow. My wrists ache and begin to burn as I continue to struggle, but I keep going, working hard to loosen the grip of the thick rope just enough. Then take a deep breath before jerking my wrists apart as hard as I can.

The pain that ensues notifies me that I've now not only freed my hands, but broken my right wrist. I curse a little too loudly around the gag, relieved to have it to silence my cries of pain as I wiggle my hands out of the bonds. Once free, they begin to slowly, painfully, heal. I try my best to ignore the icy stabs that accompany the healing, like an extra set of healing has begun to step in and help the process along.

I don't have time to think about that right now.

Instead, I hunch my body, feeling around until I find the knots at my ankles and start tugging at them. For a few seconds, it feels like I'm only tightening the ropes, but then they suddenly give and I'm free! Relief floods through me and I just want to rub and my skin until the memory of being trussed up like a chicken fades - but - again - no time!

I don't even bother with the stuff around my mouth as I frantically search for the opening of the hood. My fingers fumble over the flat metal above me, along the furthest side and to what feels like a seam. I feel for the inner latch mechanism and bingo!

Blinding sunlight sears my eyes, and I cringe away from the sudden brightness. I curse around the gag and fall out of the trunk. My face connects with gravel and grass. I cough, trying to regain my sense as I blink. Yup, gravel and grass. I've never been so relieved to see the stuff.

The car seems to be parked beside a small building, a gas station, maybe. I assume my kidnapper stopped here to get food or maybe use the bathroom or something. Good luck for me. The idiot parked the car in reverse, the trunk facing an alley with most of the car hidden by the building.

My face is scaped, my jaw aching, and neck sore from the sudden contact with the ground. Finally, I sit up, rolling my neck carefully before forcing myself into a standing position. I can take stock of my injuries later. Right now, I need to run.

But as I stand, a show of black dot shudder at the edges of my vision. *When was the last time I ate anything?* There's an alarming weakness in my limbs as I stagger forward. I reach out to brace myself against the wall, blinking hard to clear my vision and shaking my head. Putting one foot in front of the other, I manage to stumble towards the other end of the alley.

I'm in some sort of little town. The streets are quiet in the gentle sun of mid morning and there's no one around. Across the empty street is a woodsy area.

*Sweet freedom!* It's the last thought I have before something hits the back of my head.