She could hear the man's voice outside. The sound was muffled by the door, making it impossible to understand what he was saying, but it was clear he was on the phone with someone.
Amara began counting in her head, trying to estimate the passage of time.
It wouldn't be precise, but it would give her a rough idea.
After what she guessed was about twenty minutes, the voice outside faded as the man walked away.
He couldn't have just left her there. He was probably going to the bathroom or getting food.
Amara’s eyes snapped open. Her hands, still tied behind her back, fumbled in the pocket of her dress until they found what she was looking for: a small, secondary phone.
It was a habit she rarely told anyone about, but she always carried two phones.
Sometimes, when she was working outside the home—like meeting someone at a restaurant who was running late—she would use the waiting time to get some work done.
In those situations, she would use one phone to type and the other to display her outline.
The man was gone, but Amara had no idea when he would be back, or if there were others lurking nearby.
What she was about to do was incredibly risky. If she was caught, she would likely be beaten. But she had to try. There was no other way.
Fortunately, he had only tied her hands together, not to the chair itself, so her upper body still had some limited mobility.
With great difficulty, she maneuvered the phone out of her pocket. Twisting her head to see the screen, she unlocked it and pressed the number one.
It was the speed dial she had set for Elysia. The call went through.
Thankfully, Elysia wasn't busy. She picked up almost immediately, her voice sounding a little muffled. “Ama? What’s up? Did you land already?”
Something cold and hard tapped against her cheek. Amara opened her eyes to see the man in sunglasses standing over her, holding a phone. He must have used it to wake her.
Amara studied him. From his tone, it seemed he thought she had been asleep.
Did that mean he hadn't seen her on the phone?
A wave of relief washed over her, and her racing heart began to settle.
The man took off his sunglasses, revealing a rough, angular face. He looked at her with curiosity. “Why aren’t you scared?”
Was he trying to make small talk? Amara’s mind raced. “Why should I be?” she retorted.
Her response made him laugh, a short, mocking sound. “You’ve been kidnapped and you’re not scared? Are you missing a screw or something?”

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