After the men left to continue their call with Vanessa, different thoughts raced through Emma's head.
What did they want and why did they have to come blindfold her? What were they going to do with her?
Emma's head jerked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. Who was that? Could it be that help was here?
This place, wherever it is, could it easily be located? Had Alex realized that she was missing? Perhaps he has and he was the one approaching with help.
The faint flicker of hope that someone might be coming to help her was quickly extinguished when the door creaked open and the two kidnappers stepped in and the bearded one went straight to take off her blindfold.
Emma's eyes met theirs and their faces, cruel and unfeeling, made her stomach churn and hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Well, look who's crying," the clear faced guy sneered, his eyes glinting with malice as he stepped closer to her.
Emma's heart pounded, and she instinctively tried to push herself back, though the ropes binding her to the chair made it impossible.
"What do you want from me? Let me go please," she asked, her voice trembling and tears streaming down her cheeks despite her effort to sound brave.
The bearded of the two laughed—a cold, sinister sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "What do we want? Oh, sweetheart, we've already got what we want. You."
Emma's eyes widened. "Me? What do you mean me? What do you plan to do with me? Do you traffick girls?"
The clear faced man, shorter but stockier, leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as a smirk played on his lips. "Traffick girls? Did you hear her?" he asked his partner and his partner burst into laughter.
"Im sorry to disappoint you dear. We don't traffick girls. I mean how could we? As for what we plan to do with you?" he drawled. "We plan to do whatever we want with you baby. After all, you're not going back alive, so what's the harm?" he asked with a mocking laugh.
Emma's breath caught in her throat, the words slicing through her like a blade. She felt her chest tighten, her lungs struggling to pull in air.
What did he mean by she wasn't going back alive? Were they planning to kill her? Why? What did she do?
It couldn't be true. They were probably playing with her. She concluded as she swallowed past the lump in her throat.
"You're lying," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Oh, you think so?" the bearded man mocked, crouching down so his face was level with hers. "We don't make empty threats, darling. You're never leaving here. And until we're done, you're our little toy."
Tears welled up in Emma's eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them see her cry.
Her mind raced, searching for any reason, any explanation for why this was happening to her.
Why would anyone want to kill her? Was it Jake? Could Jake be this heartless? Though she had thought they were probably just toying with her but from the look on both their faces, it was obvious they were very serious.
"Why?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to deserve this? Who wants me dead?"
The stockier and clear faced man chuckled. "That's not for you to know. Let's just say someone out there doesn't like you very much. You're probably getting in their way and they want you out. It's our job to see it through," he said and burst into a peal of laughter when hot fresh tear drops rolled down Emma's cheeks.
Emma's heart sank further. Someone hated her enough to orchestrate this? To ensure she never saw the light of day again?
Her mind replayed her interactions with everyone she'd ever known, trying to pinpoint who could harbor such animosity toward her. But no one came to mind except Jake who was in prison right now.
Her death wouldn't even do anything for him so it couldn't be him.
The bearded man stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants and observed her for a while.
"Don't think too hard about it. It won't matter soon enough," he said as though reading her mind before gesturing to his partner.
The two men turned to leave, but not before the clear faced one threw a parting remark over his shoulder. "Sweet dreams, princess. Tomorrow's going to be your last. I hope you don't have any regrets."
As the door slammed shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place was like the final nail in her coffin. Emma sagged against the chair, her body trembling with fear and despair.
"Regrets." she echoed, repeating the words of the kidnapper.
Her thoughts spiraled, drowning her in regrets. She thought of Alex—his smile, his warmth, the way his presence had always made her feel safe and how he had gone out of his way to help her through her heartbreak.
If I'd known this was going to happen... If I'd known I'd have so little time left... I would've told him.
The thought of Alex made her chest ache. Does he even know I'm gone? Is he looking for me? She imagined him pacing, worried, maybe blaming himself.
She wanted to tell him how she felt, to hold him one last time. But now, that chance had been ripped away.
Tears slid down her cheeks, and this time, she didn't bother to stop them.
I don't want to die. I'm not ready. Who could hate me this much? What did I ever do to deserve this?
She looked around the room, searching for anything—any possible way to escape. Her hands strained against the ropes, the rough fibers biting into her skin. Her thoughts shifted between desperation and helplessness.
Alex, please find me. I don't want this to be the end. I don't want to leave this world with so many things left unsaid.
Her chest ached as she thought of all the moments she had taken for granted—the laughter, the small joys, the fleeting seconds of happiness she had let slip away.
The room seemed to close in on her, the shadows growing darker, her despair deeper. She strained against the ropes again, her wrists throbbing as she tried to free herself. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, and her mind clung to one thought, one desperate hope.
If only she could find a way to escape.
Emma closed her eyes, the tears still streaming down her face. She couldn't let the darkness win, not yet. She had to hold on, had to believe that Alex would come for her.
And if she got out of this alive, she promised herself she wouldn't waste another second. She would tell Alex everything—every emotion, every thought, every dream she'd had of a future with him.
For now, all she could do was hold on to that hope. The hope that a miracle could happen to save her.
Away from there, deep into the night, Alex jolted awake, his body drenched in cold sweat, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
The remnants of the nightmare lingered, vivid and horrifying. Emma's face was the last thing he'd seen—her wide, tearful eyes staring at him as she faded away into nothingness.
Her lips had moved as if to say something, but no sound had come out. He could still hear the echo of his own screams in the dream, pleading for her to stay, to hold on and to stay alive.
For a moment, he sat frozen on the couch, staring into the darkness of the room, his mind racing.
It was just a dream, wasn't it? But it had felt so real, too real. His heart pounded violently against his ribcage, and a suffocating fear clawed at his throat.
"Emma," he whispered, his voice shaky.
Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, Alex stood abruptly, unable to sit still. His body felt electrified with restless energy, his nerves frayed to the point of breaking.
He began pacing the length of the living room, his steps hurried, his mind spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
The image of Emma in the dream haunted him. What if the kidnappers didn't intend to return her? What if they were planning something worse?
The thought of her alone, scared, possibly hurt, made his stomach churn.
"I can't lose her," he muttered under his breath, his voice a desperate plea.
He glanced at his phone lying on the table, its screen dark and silent.
Harry had advised him to wait and let the kidnappers make the next move, but Alex couldn't shake the feeling that waiting was a mistake.
He couldn't just sit here, paralyzed by fear, while Emma's life hung in the balance.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening with resolve. "No more waiting," he said aloud, his voice firm.
He stopped pacing and grabbed his phone, his decision made. First thing in the morning, he would go to the police.
He would lay everything out—every detail, every suspicion. Harry might think it risky, but Alex didn't care anymore. If there was even a chance that the police could act quickly and save Emma, he had to take it.
The thought of Emma kept his chest tight as he glanced at the clock. Dawn was still hours away, but he couldn't sleep, not after that nightmare. Not with the fear gnawing at him.
Instead, he sat on the couch again, his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing.
"Hang in there, Emma," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm coming for you. I promise."