Hannah nodded in agreement. Post thesis writing, she sank into her bed, the weight of the world off her shoulders.
Dawn’s call, Hannah’s alarm clock, roused her, pushing her to prepare for the day.
Just as she slipped into her cozy wear, the doorbell chimed its tune.
Peeping through the spyhole, Hannah glimpsed a trio of dapper gents awaiting her.
“Who might you be?”
One gentleman, flashing a polished grin, said, “Mr. Mitchell’s car awaits below. We’re your escort.”
Already?
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The thought whizzed through Hannah’s mind, but suspicion didn’t linger. She slid into her kicks, shouldered her bag, and headed out.
She descended to the community’s exit with the trio in tow.
Spotting the Mercedes, her feet froze. Bryson never mentioned owning such a car, and that license plate was something she had never seen.
The gents shadowing her noticed her hesitation their hands sneaking to their sides.
“Miss Moore, your ride awaits Sensing the air thickening with tension, Hannah clutched her bag closer.
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“I should give Miss Mitchell a quick ring.”
Her muscles tensed, poised for flight! But two new players emerged, barricading her way!
The trio’s facade crumbled. Closing in on Hannah, cold steel pricked her waist.
“If you fancy breathing a tad longer… Into the car you go. Hand over the phone.”
Hannah exhaled, surrendering her phone. She slid into the car, flanked by her captors.
Once the gang was all aboard, the vehicle roared, gunning for the city outskirts!
Nestled in the car, Hannah posed, voice steady, “What’s the game here?”
The occupants of the vehicle were eerily quiet.
Hannah repeated, “You’re after cash, right? I can provide.”
The guy in the shotgun seat exclaimed, “We don’t need a pittance of tens of millions. We’re aiming higher! Play nice, and you won’t get hurt. But any games, and you might just lose more than you bargained for!”
Hannah was dragged to a desolate auto repair shop in the vicinity.
The moment they entered the shop, they promptly bound Hannah to a chair.