Chapter 267.

Kylie woke to silence.

The silence had weight.

For several seconds, she lay still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.

The ceiling was white, the walls were white, and the light spilling through a narrow rectangular window was pale enough to make her wonder whether it was morning.

Her head hurt. The ache was a deep, unpleasant throb behind her eyes that intensified when she tried to turn her head.

She blinked.

Where was she?

The question floated through her mind without immediately attaching itself to anything useful.

She pushed herself onto her elbows.

The room was small, but clean. Immaculately clean, actually. There was a narrow bed beneath her, a white duvet pulled neatly across it, a bedside table with a glass of water, and a wardrobe standing against the far wall.

Her clothes were still on her.

Her bag was gone.

Her phone—

Kylie sat up so quickly that the room tilted. She grabbed the edge of the mattress and waited for the dizziness to pass.

Her fingers went instinctively to her upper arm.

The skin was tender. And then, all at once, the memories came back.

The walk.

The music playing through her earpiece, the alley, the hand clamping over her mouth, the cord tightening around a man’s neck as she fought to get free, the ground slamming into her back.

The knee pressing into her stomach until she could barely breathe, the slap, the strange device against her arm, and then nothing.

Kylie’s stomach turned. "Oh, my God."

She threw back the duvet.

Her feet hit the floor, and she nearly stumbled as she stood. For a moment, she considered grabbing the glass of water, drinking it, and trying to think like a rational human being.

Then she remembered the hand over her mouth. Rationality could wait.

She crossed the room in three quick strides and seized the door handle.

It turned.

Kylie froze.

She tried it again, slower this time, almost suspiciously.

The door opened.

For one bewildered second, she stared at the gap. Then she pulled it wide and rushed outside.

Kylie stepped out.

The corridor was empty, its white walls interrupted by metal doors and small overhead lights. The air smelled faintly of salt, cleaning products, and something mechanical.

She turned left, and then right.

A low vibration travelled beneath her feet.

Kylie stopped, and then it came again.

A steady, rhythmic movement beneath the soles of her shoes, accompanied by a faint metallic groan somewhere beyond the walls.

Her heart began to pound.

She walked towards the end of the corridor, following the distant wash of light.

A door stood partially open. Beyond it was a short flight of stairs. She took them two at a time.

The air grew warmer as she climbed. By the time she reached the top, she could hear something else.

Water.

A great deal of it.

Kylie emerged through the doorway, and stopped breathing.

For several seconds, her mind refused to understand what she was seeing.

The sky stretched endlessly above her, a pale, cloudless expanse broken only by the hard glare of the sun. Wind swept across an open deck, carrying the unmistakable smell of seawater.

Beyond the ship’s railing, water extended in every direction.

Blue, endless, and uninterrupted.

There was no shoreline, no cluster of buildings, and no familiar skyline.

Kylie slowly turned her head.

The ship was enormous compared to the little room in which she’d woken, though not so large that she couldn’t see the empty stretch of deck leading towards the bow. Metal railings bordered the sides.

She took a step towards the railing, then another. Her pulse was beating so hard that she could feel it in her throat.

She looked towards the horizon, searching for land, and there was nothing.

She turned back towards the door she’d come through, as though she might discover that she’d misunderstood something. Perhaps this was a ferry. Perhaps it was some private vessel travelling between two places she didn’t know.

Perhaps she was panicking over nothing.

But even as she tried to construct those explanations, her mind kept returning to the same undeniable fact.

Someone had kidnapped her, and they had put her on a ship.

Kylie backed away from the railing. Her hand went to her pocket. It was empty. She checked the other one, and there was nothing.

Her phone was gone. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe through her nose.

She was not going to fall apart. Not when she had no idea where she was or who had taken her.

Her gaze swept across the deck again, searching for cameras, doors, anything that might help her understand the situation.

That was when she saw the man.

He stood near the far end of the deck, partly obscured by a large metal structure.

He wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking at the sea, and one hand resting against the railing.

Kylie went still.

She couldn’t see his face clearly from where she stood, but she recognized the build. The dark clothes. The way he held himself with the careless confidence of someone who had never once considered that another person might pose a threat to him.

Her body remembered the alley before her mind could catch up.

Noah’s Uncle.

The man turned, and their eyes met. He didn’t look surprised to see her. If anything, he looked as though he’d been expecting her.

"You’re awake."

Kylie stared at him.

He began walking towards her.

She retreated instinctively. "Stay back."

He stopped.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he glanced towards the open doorway behind her. "You shouldn’t have come up here alone."

Kylie almost laughed.

It was such an absurd thing to say that her mind struggled to decide whether he was mocking her.

"You kidnapped me."

"Yes."

He said it without hesitation, or embarrassment. Without even the courtesy of pretending otherwise.

Kylie felt something cold settle in her stomach. "Where am I?"

"On a ship."

"I can see that, you idiot." Her voice shook despite her attempt to control it. "Where are we going?"

He studied her for a moment. "Somewhere you won’t be able to leave."

Kylie swallowed.

She glanced behind him, searching for another person, another door, a ladder, anything.

His gaze followed hers.

She looked back at him.

"Don’t try to run."

A short, incredulous laugh escaped her. "Run where? Into the fucking ocean?"

He didn’t smile. "That would be a bad idea."

Kylie took another step backwards.

He noticed. "There’s no need to make this difficult."

"Then put me back where you found me."

"I didn’t find you."

"Right. You dragged me off the street, knocked me unconscious, and brought me on a ship for the pleasure of your company."

"You’re not here for my company."

"Well, that’s a relief. I was beginning to worry about your taste."

For the briefest moment, something almost like amusement passed across his face.

It vanished quickly.

"Go back to your room."

"No."

His eyes hardened.

Kylie felt the fear rising again, sharp and immediate, but she refused to let it make her small.

"You’re going to tell me who sent you," she said. "You’re going to tell me why I’m here, and then you’re going to take me home."

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then he said, "You really don’t know, do you?"

Kylie frowned.

"Know what?"

"Who I’m connected to."

Her stomach tightened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and took out a phone.

Kylie’s eyes immediately went to it.

He tapped the screen once, then held it to his ear. "She’s awake."

A pause.

His eyes remained fixed on Kylie. "No. She’s on deck."

Another pause.

"Understood."

He ended the call.

Kylie stared at him. "Who was that?"

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Go inside."

"Tell me who you called, Bastard."

"Now."

The sudden sharpness in his voice made her flinch before she could stop herself.

She hated that.

The man noticed.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. "Nobody is going to touch you if you do as you’re told."

Kylie stared at him.

"That’s what kidnappers always say, isn’t it?"

He stepped aside, leaving the doorway unobstructed.

"Go inside, Miss Benneth."

Her blood turned cold.

Hearing her name from his mouth made the situation feel suddenly, horribly real. This wasn’t a random attack.

Noah’s uncle had planned this.

Kylie looked at the man, then at the empty stretch of sea behind him.

She had no phone.

No idea where they were.

No way of knowing whether Christian had discovered she was missing. And no idea how long she had been unconscious.

She could fight him again. She could scream. She could try to reach the railing and make enough noise to attract attention, though the endless ocean offered no promise that anyone would hear her.

Or she could go back inside, buy herself time, and work out what she was dealing with.

She lowered her shoulders. "Fine."

The man watched her.

Kylie turned towards the doorway. She made it three steps before she stopped. "One question."

He said nothing.

"Am I going to die?"

The words left her before she could dress them up in sarcasm.

He considered her for a moment. "That depends."

"On what?" She asked, as if negotiating.

"How this ends."

Kylie stared at him. Then she went inside. The door shut behind her. She heard the lock turn. And the moment she was alone, she pressed both hands over her mouth.

Her chest tightened.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the sudden, humiliating urge to cry.

Her mum. Emilia. Christian. His name rose in her mind so quickly that it hurt.

Christian was going to notice.

She had left without telling him where she was going, yes, but she hadn’t meant to be gone for long. She’d only wanted gummies. A stupid packet of gummies.

Would he find her?

Kylie lowered her hands.

She needed information. She crossed to the window and looked out.

The glass was narrow and reinforced, offering only a small view of the water. She pressed her palm against it, trying to determine whether it could open.

she could use as a weapon.

Her gaze returned to the glass of water.

She picked it up.

For a moment, she considered throwing it against the window. Then she set it down.

Breaking the glass might give her a way to hurt herself rather than escape, and she wasn’t interested in either outcome.

"Think, Kylie." She mumured.

That kidnap was personal. Was thus revenge for Noah?

Kylie sat on the edge of the bed.

Her fingers began to tremble. She curled them into fists. Whatever this was, she wasn’t going to let herself be used to hurt Emilia, or anyone.

She would find a way out. She had to.

Because somewhere, in a city she could no longer see, Christian and Emilia was still alive.

And she needed to get back to them.