The place he named was completely unfamiliar to her. “I don’t know,” she said instinctively.
But the man seemed to ignore her answer. “Great, thanks for offering to show me the way,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward a dark, narrow alley.
Even the most naive person would have realized something was wrong, and Amara was far from naive. She immediately started to struggle. “Let go of me!”
But his grip was like iron. As he dragged her into the shadows, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it over her nose and mouth. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and her world went black.
When Amara came to, her head was throbbing, and her vision was blurry. She seemed to be in a very dark place.
She blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting. The space around her was vast and cluttered, and the air was thick with the acrid, metallic scent of rust. She was in some kind of abandoned factory.
It was probably still daytime outside, but the factory was enormous, with only a few small, high windows near the ceiling. The light that filtered through was minimal, casting the interior in a perpetual gloom.
She looked down. She was sitting in a rickety wooden chair, her hands tied behind her back and her legs bound to the chair’s legs.
The position was incredibly uncomfortable, and her entire body was numb, but at least there was no sharp pain. It seemed she hadn’t been beaten.
After taking stock of her surroundings, Amara began to analyze her situation.
She had clearly been kidnapped. The man in sunglasses who brought her here was obviously working for someone else. The question was, who was the mastermind?
Her first thought was Elowen. Elowen had tormented her so many times over the years that thinking of her in these situations had become almost a conditioned reflex.
But after a moment, she realized that Elowen wasn't the only person who hated her. She had to consider other possibilities.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to push down the rising tide of panic.

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