I Was Kidnapped, He Married His First Love

"Wake up, princess."

A heavy boot kicked the metal leg of the chair.

Falon Massey gasped. Her eyes snapped open.

The harsh glare of a tactical flashlight blinded her. She turned her head away. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm.

She tried to pull her hands apart. The rough hemp rope bit into the raw skin of her wrists. Warm blood trickled down her palms.

She was kidnapped. The air in the abandoned Brooklyn warehouse was thick. It smelled of rust, mold, and stale urine.

Dwayne Boggs grabbed a fistful of her hair. He yanked her head back.

Falon let out a sharp cry. Her scalp burned.

Dwayne reached into the pocket of his dirty jacket. He pulled out her personal phone.

He grabbed her right hand. He forced her thumb onto the sensor. The screen unlocked with a soft click.

The bright light of the screen illuminated Dwayne's scarred face. He scrolled through her contacts.

He stopped at a name. Jerod Mercer.

Falon's chest tightened. Jerod. Her fiancé. He would pay. He would get her out of here.

Dwayne tapped the screen. He put the phone on speaker and held it up.

The line rang once. Twice.

Then, a click.

The smooth, elegant sound of a live violin drifted through the tiny speaker. It was the string quartet from the Manhattan penthouse ballroom.

"What now, Falon?" Jerod's voice cut through the music. He sounded annoyed. Bored.

Falon's breath hitched. She opened her mouth to scream, but Dwayne pressed a cold, heavy tactical knife against her carotid artery. The sharp edge sliced a millimeter into her skin. A drop of blood slid down her neck.

"Listen closely, Mercer," Dwayne growled. "I have your fiancée. I want one million dollars in cryptocurrency. I will send you the wallet address. You have one hour, or I start mailing you her fingers."

"Jerod, please," a soft, whiny voice echoed in the background. "The cake cutting is starting."

Abby.

Falon's stomach dropped to the floor. When she was kidnapped, her fianc é was cutting cakes with other women.

"Is this your new PR stunt, Falon?" Jerod's tone dripped with absolute disdain. "Hiring a thug to interrupt Abby's special night? It is pathetic."

"Jerod, it is real!" Falon screamed. She did not care about the knife. The blade dug deeper. The sting was nothing compared to the ice forming in her veins. "He is going to kill me!"

"Your voice sounds completely unhinged," Jerod said coldly. "You lack basic class. Do not test my limits again."

"Jerod-"

"Do whatever you want with her," Jerod said to the kidnapper. "I am done."

The call disconnected.

A sharp, piercing beep filled the warehouse.

Falon stopped breathing. The frantic beating of her heart slowed to a heavy, hollow thud. Her hands stopped pulling at the ropes. The fight drained out of her muscles.

He left her to die.

Dwayne stared at the phone. His face turned red. The veins in his neck bulged.

"Son of a bitch!" Dwayne roared.

He threw the phone against the concrete wall.

The device shattered. Pieces of glass and plastic rained down on the floor.

The sound of the breaking screen mirrored the violent snap inside Falon's chest. The last four years of her life, her compromises, her desperate attempts to be the perfect fiancée-all of it turned to dust.

Dwayne paced the floor. He kicked a metal bucket across the room.

"No money," Dwayne muttered. "No money."

He stopped. He looked at Falon. A sick, twisted smile spread across his face.

He reached into his other pocket. He pulled out a syringe. The barrel was filled with a thick, neon-blue liquid.

"Since I am not getting paid," Dwayne said, flicking the needle. "I might as well have some fun. Black market stuff. It will make you beg for me."

Falon stared at the needle.Pure, primal survival instinct exploded in her brain.She thrashed against the ropes, the wooden chair rocked violently.

Dwayne lunged forward, he pinned her left shoulder down with his heavy hand.

Falon kicked her legs, but he drove his knee into her thigh.He jammed the needle into the vein on her arm and pushed the plunger down.

The cold liquid rushed into Falon's bloodstream, it felt like liquid nitrogen. She let out a muffled groan.

Dwayne pulled the needle out and stepped back, wiping his mouth.

In that split second of his retreat, Falon threw her entire body weight backward.

The chair tipped. The old, rotting wood of the chair back splintered and snapped. The ropes around her wrists loosened just enough.

Falon ripped her hands free, the friction tore the skin off her knuckles, but she did not feel it.

Dwayne cursed. He dropped the syringe and reached for his knife on the floor.

Falon scrambled to her knees, her hand brushed against a jagged shard of glass from her broken phone.

She grabbed it, the sharp edges sliced into her palm and Warm blood coated her fingers.

Dwayne lunged at her.

Falon rolled to the side. She drove the glass shard deep into the thick muscle of Dwayne's calf.

Dwayne let out a blood-curdling scream. He collapsed onto his knees. Blood spurted from the wound, soaking his jeans. He grabbed his leg, his face contorted in agony.

Falon kicked his arm away and stumbled to her feet.

She was barefoot, the rough gravel and broken glass on the floor cut into the soles of her feet.

At this very moment, the drug hit her.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room melted into dark shadows. Her body temperature spiked, a strange, burning heat started in her stomach and spread to her chest.

She bit down on her tongue. Hard. The sharp pain and the taste of blood forced her eyes to focus.

She ran toward the rusted iron door and threw her body against it. The heavy metal groaned and gave way.

Freezing rain hit her instantly. It soaked her hair.

"I am going to kill you!" Dwayne roared from inside the warehouse. She heard the heavy dragging of his injured leg.

Falon did not look back. She sprinted into the pitch-black Brooklyn night.

The rain mixed with the mud and blood on her face. It ran into her eyes, stinging them. The heavy, wet fabric of her dress weighed her down. Her legs felt like lead.

She turned a corner into a narrow, dark alley.

At the end of the alley, she saw a sleek, black Maybach. The engine was running. The headlights cut through the heavy rain.

Dwayne's heavy footsteps echoed behind her. He was getting closer.

Falon reached the car, she threw her body onto the wet hood of the Maybach.

She looked up through the rain-washed windshield. She locked eyes with the man sitting in the back seat.

The man's eyes were dark, piercing, and carried a terrifying weight.