They’ve removed the bag from over my head, but my wrists are still zip-tied behind my back, and the ties are digging painfully into my flesh. I wonder if it’s to keep me off balance to prevent me from running, but they don’t have to worry about that. My door isn’t locked, but I’m not going out there. I can still hear them, and if I look out of the window of the run-down single-story house they’ve brought me to, I can see their cars on the driveway. They took mine somewhere a few hours ago, I guess to get rid of it. I didn’t even realize Abel had held on to it.

Abel. Did he intend for this to happen like it did? Or did things just go wrong?

My head hurts where the one punched me, and a bruise is forming at my temple. I guess I should be grateful it’s not my eye. My stomach growls. I’m hungry even though I can’t imagine eating right now.

One of the men raises his voice and curses at whoever he’s talking to in the other room. It’s startling. It all seems disorganized as though they didn’t really have a plan, and I’m not sure if that isn’t more dangerous.

I hear a car and get up to go to the window. The room I’m in is around the side, so if I stand at the very edge of the window, I can see a part of the driveway. A light goes on. It’s not very bright, and it must be triggered by motion. I watch a car pull up. It’s an old, unremarkable black car with a muddied license plate at the front. My guess is that’s on purpose.

But when the door opens and I see Abel step out, my breath shudders, and I feel a physical sense of relief. He looks around as he slips the keys into his pocket before the light switches off as he moves to the front of the house.

“About fucking time,” one of the men says loud enough for me to hear.

I go to the door to listen to my brother’s quieter response. I can’t make out his words, but the men speak urgently, voices lowered now.

A few minutes later there is a raised voice again. This one is Abel’s. “Well, I guess it’s going to take a little fucking longer. I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to do as I say. Don’t fucking forget it.”

More muffled sounds, someone curses, and then something falls over. For a moment, I’m worried about my brother, and when I hear footsteps headed toward the bedroom I’m in, I hurry away from the door and watch, heart pounding, as it opens, relieved once again when Abel enters.

“Abel!” My voice quakes.