CHAPTER 2

Content Warning: This chapter includes themes of kidnapping, restraint, and distressing situations. Reader discretion advised...

---I’m walking, completely absorbed in my own thoughts—because clearly, nothing bad has ever happened to someone wandering alone at night. My only companions? The dramatic chorus of crickets, frogs, and whatever else thinks it owns the roadside.

I keep walking, not paying attention—brilliant decision, really. Then—

Bang.

A massive hand slaps over my face out of nowhere.

I struggle, kicking at the air like that’s going to solve anything, arms flailing in what can only be described as deeply embarrassing.

Honestly, for someone who’s survived over a thousand years… this is not my finest moment.

Someone decides my eyes are optional and ties a black blindfold around them—how thoughtful. Before I can fully process my excellent life choices, I’m lifted off the ground like I weigh nothing. Fantastic. Love that for me.

A few seconds later—

Thud.

I land somewhere hard. Judging by the smell and the echo… a car trunk. Classic. Kidnapping 101. At least they’re sticking to tradition.

Whoever’s doing this clearly knows what they’re doing. My hands are yanked behind my back and tied—tight enough to hurt. Then comes a sharp sting in my wrist. Injection. Anesthesia, probably. Because why not add a medical procedure to the evening?

The world tilts.

My head goes light.

Just before everything fades out, I hear another thud—the trunk slamming shut.

And then there’s this strange, floating euphoria spreading through my veins.

Great. Kidnapped and drugged.

Honestly… after a thousand years, you’d think I’d have learned to avoid this kind of situation?

NO.

…And then I’m out.

I wake up when the car hits a speed bump.

Fantastic.

“Ouch!” I try to say—but it comes out muffled, thanks to the lovely piece of cloth stuffed in my mouth. Really, they’ve thought of everything.

Hospitality at its finest.

My head throbs as I lie there, crammed into the trunk like misplaced luggage. Ten—maybe eleven—minutes pass. Hard to tell when you’re drugged, kidnapped, and apparently on a scenic night drive.

Then the car slows. Finally. It comes to a stop with a slight jolt.

I hear voices outside—low, serious. Important, probably. Not that it matters, because I can’t make out a single word. Of course I can’t. I’m in a hecking trunk.

Honestly, for someone who’s lived over a thousand years, my current life choices are… questionable at best.

I stay perfectly still when I hear the trunk unlock. The lid creaks open, letting in a sliver of light.

“Drop the act.”

A male voice. Flat. Unimpressed.

Oh, great. We’ve reached the interrogation phase.

Like hell I’m about to sit up and smile for them. What do they expect-

gratitude? Applause?

I stay exactly where I am. Because if they think I’m going to make this easy, they clearly picked the wrong thousand-year-old problem.

Honestly…the audacity.

“Get her up,” a man says, impatience bleeding into every word.And with that, they haul me out of the trunk and force me onto my feet.

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