Elena's POV
I couldn't breathe.
My back was pressed against the cottage wall, my hand still covering my mouth. Owen's voice outside kept talking, kept saying terrible things, but my brain couldn't make sense of them.
Delivering her. She's exactly what Cross wanted.
This had to be a nightmare. Any second now, I'd wake up and Owen would be the same Owen who held my hand when I cried about my parents. The Owen who taught me how to count steps so I could walk around without bumping into things.
But the voices outside were too real. Too clear.
"Tomorrow night, then," the stranger said. "Six o'clock. Have her ready."
"She will be," Owen promised. "Drugged and packed like you asked."
Footsteps walked away. A car door slammed. An engine started and faded into the distance.
I waited for Owen to leave too. Instead, his footsteps came toward my door.
No. No, no, no.
I scrambled away from the wall, my hip slamming into the piano bench. Pain shot through my leg, but I bit down on my lip to stay quiet. I needed to think. Needed to run. Needed to—
The door opened.
"Elena?" Owen's voice was back to normal. Soft. Caring. Fake. "You okay in there? I heard a noise."
My throat was too tight to answer.
"Elena?" His footsteps entered the cottage. "Did you fall? Are you hurt?"
Act normal. If he knew I heard him, he might do something terrible right now. I had to pretend everything was fine until I could figure out how to escape.
But how could I escape? I was blind. I didn't know how to get anywhere without help. I didn't even know where I was most of the time.
"I'm fine," I managed to say. My voice sounded shaky. "Just clumsy. Hit the bench."
"Let me help you." Owen's hand touched my arm, and I flinched. I actually flinched away from him.
He noticed. I knew he did because he went quiet for a second too long.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked slowly.
"Yes. Just startled myself." I forced a laugh that sounded broken even to my own ears. "I was playing piano and got lost in the music. Forgot where I was sitting."
Another lie. But what else could I do?
Owen's hand squeezed my arm. Not gentle. Not anymore. "You seem nervous."
"I'm excited about tomorrow," I said quickly. "The hotel. Our trip. I've never stayed anywhere fancy before."
Please believe me. Please just leave.
Owen was quiet again. Then his hand relaxed. "Right. The trip. Actually, that's why I came back. I brought something to celebrate."
Celebrate. The word made my stomach turn.
"I'm kind of tired," I said. "Maybe we could celebrate tomorrow?"
"Come on, Elena. Just one drink." Owen's voice had that edge again—the one I used to think was playfulness but now understood was control. "I went all the way to the store for this wine. Don't make me drink alone."
Wine. Drugged and packed, the stranger had said.
Owen was going to drug me. Right now. Tonight.
"Okay," I heard myself say. "One drink."
What was I doing? But if I said no, he'd know something was wrong. He'd know I heard him. And then what? Would he hurt me? Lock me up? Make me disappear right now instead of waiting until tomorrow?
At least if I played along, I had time. Time to think of a plan.
Owen guided me to the small table in the corner. I heard him open the wine bottle—a soft pop that made me jump.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"Happy," I lied.
Liquid poured into glasses. Owen pressed one into my hand. The glass was cold and smooth.
"To us," Owen said. "And to new beginnings."
New beginnings. He meant selling me to some stranger named Cross.
I lifted the glass to my lips. The wine smelled sweet—too sweet. Wrong.
"Aren't you drinking?" I asked, not taking a sip yet.
"Of course." Owen's glass clinked against mine. I heard him swallow. "See? Now you."
But something felt off. The sound of his swallow was wrong. Too quick. Like he'd just moved his throat but hadn't actually drunk anything.
He was faking it.
My hand started shaking. The wine rippled in the glass.
"Elena." Owen's voice dropped lower. Colder. "Drink."
It wasn't a suggestion anymore. It was an order.
What choice did I have? If I refused, he'd force me. At least this way, maybe I could pretend to pass out but stay awake enough to hear his plans. Maybe I could—
I drank.
The wine burned going down. Not like normal wine—this burned like swallowing fire. I coughed, and Owen patted my back.
"That's my girl," he said softly. "Finish it all. Every drop."
My fingers went numb around the glass. The cottage started spinning even though I couldn't see it spinning. My head felt heavy, like someone had filled it with sand.
"Owen," I whispered. "Something's wrong."
"I know." His voice sounded far away now. Or maybe I was far away. "I'm sorry, Elena. I really am. But I have no choice."
No choice? He had every choice. He chose to betray me. Chose to drug me. Chose to sell me like I was nothing.
I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't work. I grabbed for the table, but my hands wouldn't grab. Everything was melting. I was melting.
"Why?" I managed to ask before my tongue stopped working.
"Gambling debts," Owen said. He sounded sad. Actually sad. "I owe some very dangerous people a lot of money. They were going to kill me, Elena. What was I supposed to do?"
Not sell me, I wanted to scream. Anything but this.
But the words wouldn't come. My body hit the floor. I felt Owen catch me, lower me down gently like he cared.
"You won't remember any of this," he said, stroking my hair. "The drug has amnesia effects. You'll wake up confused, but you won't remember me doing this. That's something, right? A small mercy?"
Mercy. He thought this was mercy.
My eyes—my useless, blind eyes—closed. I fought to stay awake, but the darkness that was always there got even darker. Thicker. Like drowning.
The last thing I heard was Owen's phone beeping. His fingers pressing buttons.
"It's done," Owen said to someone. "I have the girl. She's ready for delivery."
A pause.
"Yes, tomorrow at six. Crown Towers penthouse, just like Cross wanted."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"And my debt? We're clear after this?"
Owen laughed—sharp and bitter. "Good. Because if Cross doesn't like what he sees, I'm a dead man anyway."
The phone clicked off.
Then nothing. Just darkness and the sound of Owen dragging something heavy across the floor.
He was dragging me.
And I couldn't fight back. Couldn't scream. Couldn't do anything except feel my body being moved like a piece of furniture. Like trash being taken out.
My last thought before everything went black: I'm going to die, and no one will even know I'm missing.