Chapter 53 CHAPTER 53

Chapter 53 CHAPTER 53
 ~TESSA~
  (The following day)
  It was 8:30pm.
  The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and butter. Debbie had somehow convinced me to help her bake a pie.
  She was at the counter, fussing with her pie crust, humming something cheerful. 
  I stood at the sink, rinsing apples, sneaking bites when she wasn’t looking.
  “You’re a menace,” Debbie teased, smacking my hand with the wooden spoon as I reached for another slice.
  I laughed, a real laugh that loosened something tight in my chest. “Hey, I’m quality-checking. You should be grateful.”
  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sure. Remind me not to hire you if I ever open a bakery. You’d eat the profits before we even opened the doors.”
  I grinned, tossing another piece into my mouth, and for just a heartbeat, I felt… normal. Like a girl hanging out with her sister-in-law, not someone with a target on her back.
  The back door creaked in the wind. I barely noticed at first. Debbie was talking about Ryder’s wild teenage years, and I leaned in, curious, hanging on every word.
  Then, a sound. Low. Heavy. Wrong.
  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I froze with the dish towel in my hand.
  Debbie must’ve seen my face shift because she went silent, spoon hovering midair.
  The door didn’t just creak again. This time, it slammed open.
  Black boots thundered against the tile. Two men. Big. Masked.
  My body reacted before my brain could catch up. “Debbie!” I screamed, stumbling backward, the towel dropping from my hand.
  One of them lunged for me. I darted sideways, but his arm was like a steel bar slamming across my waist.
  I kicked, clawed, bit down hard on his wrist. He cursed, but he didn’t let go.
  Debbie grabbed the rolling pin from the counter and swung. Hard. It cracked against the second guy’s shoulder, but he snarled and shoved her aside like she was weightless.
  “Ryder!” I screamed, my voice raw, tearing at my throat. “RYDER!”
  The first man yanked me toward the door. My nails scraped across the counter, grabbing at anything... pots, pans, air. 
  The pie pan clattered to the floor. Debbie was shouting, fighting, but they were too strong, too fast.
  My heart slammed against my ribs.
  This wasn’t just a scare.
  They were here for me.
  And they weren’t leaving without me.
  Outside, the air hit me like ice as they dragged me through the doorway. 
  My bare feet scraped against the porch boards, then the rough gravel of the driveway.
  I kicked and screamed, the sound tearing from me so raw I hardly recognized my own voice.
  “Let me go! Ryder!”
  One man had me pinned from behind, his arm crushing my ribs as he hauled me up like I weighed nothing. 
  The other ran ahead, scanning the shadows, barking into a radio clipped to his vest.
  Behind us, Debbie’s voice cut through the chaos. “You bastards... let her go!”
  She came charging out with the rolling pin again, hair flying, wild determination on her face. She slammed it into the man’s back, hard enough that he staggered. 
  I was so terrified and confused at the same time. How the fuck did they even make their way through the security door? 
  I had no time to think anymore about this because the worst was yet to happen.
  I felt his grip slip and I twisted, desperate, nails sinking into his arm.
  But the second man doubled back, grabbing Debbie by the wrist and shoving her so hard she crashed onto the gravel.
  “Debbie!” I screamed, reaching for her.
  The van’s sliding door yawned open. Dark. Empty. Waiting.
  “No—no, please—” I bucked hard, thrashing, but the man behind me slammed his fist into my stomach. 
  The air exploded out of me. My knees gave, my body useless as they shoved me inside.
  Debbie’s voice cracked through the night, shrill with rage and terror: “RYDER! RYDER, HELP!”
  I clawed for the doorframe, fingers bloody on the metal. The man pried my grip loose one by one, knuckles splitting against the sharp edge.
  Then I heard it.
  Boots pounding.
  “Get your fucking hands off her!”
  Ryder.
  He came like a storm, shirt half-buttoned, eyes lit with pure murder. I’d never seen him look like that—like a man ready to kill.
  But the engine roared. The van jerked forward.
  “RYDER!” I screamed, lunging toward the open door. His hand shot out, almost catching mine—almost—but the man inside yanked me back, slamming the door shut.
  The last thing I saw was Ryder pounding after us, his face twisted in rage, before the van sped down the dark road, carrying me into the night.