Wrong Place, Right Target

Wrong Place, Right Target
Isabella’s POV

As soon as those words left his mouth, I winced in pain.

My wrists burned like they’d been dipped in acid, but the knife was still clutched in my numb fingers, hidden against my palm. Agnes and I sat perfectly still, breathing shallow, playing the part of two terrified, helpless women.

The four men who’d walked in weren’t the same ones from the bathroom.

These ones looked… expensive…somewhat polished.

Their leader…the one who spoke earlier… was middle-aged, maybe late fifties, silver threading his dark hair, clean-shaven, wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. 

Flanking him were three younger men…also in tailored suits, earpieces, no visible weapons but the kind of posture that said they didn’t need them to be dangerous. They looked like security detail for a CEO, not kidnappers.

Agnes broke the silence first, voice dripping acid.

“Hello ladies? Are you kidding me right now? What the hell do you want? Is kidnapping young, pretty girls your weekend hobby, or do you just get off on ruining someone’s dinner plans?”

The man in the suit kissed his teeth…slow, amused.

“We didn’t mean to take you, sweetheart.” His eyes flicked to me. “We apologize for the inconvenience. You just… interrupted. The one we really came for is Damien’s sweetheart.” He pointed a lazy finger right at my chest. “This one right here.”

Agnes scoffed so loud it echoed off the rafters.

“You’ve got the wrong girls. We don’t know any Damien. In fact, we’re tourists. From another country. Visiting Los Angeles. Big Hollywood dreams, you know? Wrong place, wrong time. So let us go.”

The man laughed…low, genuine, like she’d told a genuinely funny joke.

“You’re hilarious. Good thing we brought you along. You’ll keep us entertained while we wait.”

I forced my voice steady even though my heart was trying to punch through my ribs.

“Who are you? And what do you want?”

He cleared his throat, straightened his cufflinks like we were at a board meeting.

“Carlos Osmond.” He paused, watching my face. “Does the name ring a bell?”

My stomach dropped so fast I almost threw up.

Carlos Osmond?

The same Carlos the police and Damien’s men had been tearing the city apart looking for. Damien’s rival. The man who’d framed him for murder. The reason Damien had spent days locked up.

Agnes jumped in before I could speak.

“Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell. So…can we go now? Traffic’s a bitch in L.A.”

Carlos smiled wider. “Forgive me, ladies. I might have to have Darius here—” he nodded at the bigger of the two bodyguards “rough Damien’s woman up a bit. Just so my sweet Damien knows I mean business this time.”

I didn’t understand at first until the so-called Darius stepped forward.

One punch. Open fist, right across my cheekbone.

The crack echoed inside my skull as pain exploded white-hot. I screamed…muffled by instinct…biting the inside of my cheek so hard blood flooded my mouth instantly. Stars danced as my head snapped sideways and I swear to God, I definitely saw a star twerking.

“Give her another,” Carlos said, calm as if he were ordering coffee.

“No—no—no—wait!” Agnes screamed. “Let her go and punch me instead, you fucking assholes!”

Before the last word left her mouth, Dairus’s fist slammed into my stomach this time.

Air exploded out of me. I doubled over as far as the pole allowed so they won’t get to see that the rope is almost off, coughing, choking on my own blood and bile. The world tilted as my vision swam.

Agnes went crazy…cursing in every language she knew, voice cracking with rage.

“Who the fuck raised you animals? Putting hands on girls half your size? You spineless, limp-dick pieces of worthless shit—”

They totally ignored her.

Darius grabbed a filthy towel from his pocket and stuffed it into my mouth…deep enough that I gagged. My jaw screamed from the earlier hit. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with blood.

Carlos pulled out a phone, tapped the screen and put it on speaker.

The ringing filled the warehouse immediately.

Seconds later, Damien’s voice…raw and desperate filled the warehouse.

“Carlos. What the fuck have you done? Do you have my woman and her friend?”

Carlos laughed again…slow and satisfied.

“You still have my number saved huh? It’s been hours, Damien. I was starting to think you’d never notice they were gone. Are you really that incapable these days?”

Damien’s tone dropped to something murderous.

“Show yourself in front of me if you want to see how capable I am. Stop hiding behind cheap games, you coward.”

“Ow. Cheap games?” Carlos turned the phone, camera facing me.

The second Damien’s face appeared on the screen…eyes wild, jaw clenched, every muscle in his neck corded…I screamed into the gag. Agnes screamed too…muffled fury vibrating against my back.

Damien’s expression shattered into pure utter fear.

“Baby…Bella…fuck—”

Darius stepped forward again with a menacing grin. This time his fist drove into my stomach…harder.

Pain detonated instantly as I convulsed, screaming into the cloth, tears blinding me.

Damien’s roar exploded through the speaker.

“ENOUGH! ENOUGH…please…don’t hurt her. Please. What do you want? Tell me, Carlos. I’ll give you anything.”

Carlos smiled like he’d won. “Now you’re talking.”

He turned, walking away with the phone while his men followed. The heavy door clanged shut as the locks engaged.

As soon as they left, Agnes sprang up…using the slack in the rope to wrench her arms free in one violent twist. She pulled out the gag one of the men had stuffed into her mouth.

“Son of a bitch!” she hissed under her breath.

She dropped to her knees beside me, hands cupping my face…gentle despite the way they trembled.

“How could they do this?” Her voice cracked, fury bleeding through every word. “I swear, I’ll kill them. One way or another.”

The world tilted just then as nausea hit hard and I slumped sideways, but she caught me instantly, arms locking around me like a shield.

“Bella…hey. Hey, stay with me.” Her forehead pressed to mine, breath uneven. “Look at me.”

Her eyes scanned my face, my body, fast and frantic. “How bad is it? Can you stand? Can you run? Do I need to carry you?”

She swallowed, fear flashing through her anger. “We don’t have time. If they come back…who knows what they will do to us next?”

I shook the dizziness off and spat the gag out as soon as I broke free, coughing blood onto the concrete.

“Don’t worry,” I rasped, voice wrecked. “Help is already on the way.”

Agnes blinked. “What do you mean?”

I lifted one trembling hand…slowly, painfully…and pressed it to my waist, right where my dress hugged my hip.

I gave Agnes a knowing look but she just stared.

Then her eyes went wide. “Wait… why the hell are you touching your waist like that?”