Desperate measures

Fiona’s POV

The blindfold had become my prison, sealing me in a darkness so complete that every sound felt like a gunshot in the void. My knees throbbed against the cold concrete, and the ropes had long since rubbed my wrists raw, sending sharp stings up my arms with every tiny shift. Jordan’s presence lingered like a shadow—his cologne thick and nauseating, and his occasional low chuckles made my skin crawl. I used to think he liked me back in Marian's house, but his switch was the craziest I've experienced. Marian paced nearby, her heels clicking with predatory rhythm. My heart raced at the two hours ticking time I had left before I finally died lonely.

Suddenly, Marian’s phone rang. She answered like she had been expecting the call for a while, her voice clipped and confident at first.

“Yes?” she paused. Then, just like the bad news, her entire demeanor shattered. Her breathing hitched audibly, quick and shallow. I sensed her freeze mid-step, the air around her growing with panic.

“What? When?” Her voice dropped to a furious whisper. “How did they—?”

She didn’t finish before ending the call with a sharp tap as she slammed the phone down. Panic washed over her in waves. Jordan rushed to her, he probably muttered something low and urgent but I could pick a few words between their whispers.

“They’re closing in,” Marian hissed. “That bastard Jalen’s been stalling us. Buying time so his dogs can sniff us out. We need to move. Now.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. Hope flickered faintly beneath the whole horror. I knew Jalen was going to save me but Marian wasn’t one to go down quietly. I heard her moving rapidly, bags being zipped, items shoved aside. Her mind was racing—I could almost hear the gears turning in that twisted brain of hers.

She stopped in front of me. I felt the shift in the air, the menace rolling off her in thick waves.

“Change of plans, sweetheart,” she said, her voice laced with venomous sweetness. “Your hero thinks he can play games with me.”

She yanked the blindfold off without warning. Blinding light assaulted my eyes after hours in darkness. I blinked furiously, tears streaming as the warehouse came into hazy focus—dilapidated walls, scattered crates, dim overhead bulbs flickering like dying stars. Jordan stood a few feet away, arms crossed, a cruel smirk on his face.

Marian grabbed her phone again and dialed a Video call this time. She angled the screen toward me, crouching low so Jalen would see everything. The gun in her other hand pressed coldly against my temple. The metal was icy, unyielding. My breath caught in my throat as the barrel dug in harder.

“Jalen,” she said the moment he picked up. Her voice was steady now, but the panic from moments ago still edged it. On the small screen, I glimpsed his face—jaw clenched, eyes blazing with fury and fear.

“Fiona!” His voice cracked through the speaker.

“See this?” Marian tilted the phone slightly, giving him a clear view of the gun at my head. “You have five minutes. Not two hours. Five. Drop the money and the documents at the address I’m sending you right now. No more delay, Jalen or I paint the walls with her brains.”

Jalen’s face twisted in agony. “Marian, don’t—”

“Five minutes,” she repeated, her finger visibly tightening on the trigger. “Tick tock, darling. I’m done waiting.”

She ended the call and sent the location with swift taps. The gun never left my head. My pulse roared in my ears, each second stretching into eternity. Jordan laughed softly behind her, enjoying the show. I wanted to at least fight back, but the ropes held firm and the gun promised instant death.

Minutes blurred and tension thickened the air until it felt like breathing through syrup. Finally, her phone buzzed again, confirming Jalen had delivered.

“Good boy,” she murmured. Then, to Jordan: “We’re leaving. Now.”

They moved fast. Marian cut the ropes binding me to the pole but kept my wrists tied. Jordan hauled me roughly to my feet, my legs buckling from hours of kneeling. Pain shot through my muscles, but adrenaline kept me upright. They dragged me toward the exit, but only partway—Marian stopped, fiddling with something near a stack of crates that looked like a device laced with different colors of wires. My stomach dropped.

“No…” I whispered.

Marian smiled coldly. “Ah don’t worry, it won’t hurt that much, this is just a little parting gift. Can’t leave loose ends.”

She shoved me into a corner, not far from the center of the warehouse, and stood in front of me. Jordan quickly secured the device and tied me to another post with fresh rope. Then they were gone in a flash, the heavy door slamming shut until the only sound I could hear was the faint ticking somewhere in the shadows.

Panic clawed up my throat. The ticking grew louder in my mind. Seconds later, a deafening boom ripped through the warehouse. The explosion threw me sideways, heat washing over me like an inferno. Flames erupted instantly, licking up the walls with greedy hunger. Smoke billowed thick and black, choking the air. I coughed violently, my lungs burning as toxic fumes filled the space. The ropes held me in place as fire spread rapidly, consuming crates and debris.

Somebody help!… please… jalen…

I sobbed as I coughed. My vision swam. The heat was unbearable, I could feel my skin shrinking inch by inch. I struggled weakly, too exhausted to scream. Darkness edged my sight.

Just when I was about to give up, I heard cars screeching to a halt just as the warehouse erupted in more flames. A flicker of hope jolted inside me but it died when my lungs started to tighten. The structure was already an inferno, orange tongues of fire leaping high into the sky.

The door suddenly flung open with a sharp force and I heard my name from a distance from a familiar voice. “Fiona!” He called once and again, and the third time, before I could conclude that it was Jude, I saw a few more figures bolting from the car. Paris screamed his name, but he didn’t stop. Dad had called Jalen in that moment, his voice breaking with terror and tears.

“She’s over here at the warehouse and it’s burning! Jalen, please—my baby girl is in that fire!”

Jude didn’t hesitate. He charged through the flames licking the entrance, coat pulled over his face, heat blasting him like a furnace. Inside, the roar of the fire was deafening. Beams groaned overhead, threatening collapse. He moved through the smoke, eyes stinging, calling my name.

I managed to cough weakly from deep inside me. He trailed the sound, His breath pounded with raw determination, and he spotted me through the haze—slumped, coughing faintly, too drained to cry out anymore.

“Fiona! Hold on!”

He reached me, slicing through the ropes with a knife from his belt. I was limp, barely conscious. My eyes fluttered open for a brief second, catching his face—Jude. Then darkness claimed me completely as I passed out in his arms.

He lifted me effortlessly, cradling me against his chest, and fought his way back through the blaze.

Jalen’s POV

Outside, Mason had arrived with firefighters. Powerful hoses sprayed arcs of water onto the burning building, steam hissing violently. My car tore into the scene seconds later, screeching to a halt. My eyes locked immediately on Fiona—wrapped in Jude’s arms, unconscious, as he carried her toward safety.

“Fiona!” I roared, sprinting forward.

Paris rushed toward us too, tears streaming down her face. But the paramedics were already there. They took Fiona from Jude gently but urgently, loading her onto a stretcher and into the waiting ambulance. Sirens wailed anew as they prepared to rush me to the hospital.

I pushed through the crowd, desperate to reach her. “Wait—Fiona!” but I was a bit too late. The ambulance doors slammed shut, and it sped off into the night, lights flashing. I stood there, chest heaving, staring after it with shattered eyes.

Turning slowly, I faced Mason, my voice a low, dangerous mutter laced with barely contained fury.

“Make sure you get those criminals. They couldn’t have gotten far”

Mason nodded grimly, already coordinating with his team. Before storming out to hunt.

Fiona’s POV

I drifted in and out of consciousness during the ride. Flashing lights and voices shouting medical terms. My body was stiff with so much pain—burns on my arms, smoke inhalation clawing at my lungs. But through it all, one thought anchored me: I was alive. Jude had pulled me from the fire. Jalen had come through, even if it meant giving Marian what she wanted. I couldn’t think straight but I could feel my dad’s hand holding me tight.

The ambulance doors finally opened to the bright hospital lights. I was wheeled down corridors in a blur. Doctors and nurses swarmed me, oxygen mask pressed to my face, they didn’t waste time before the IVs started. My last clear thought before sedation took hold was of Jalen’s voice on that video call—raw with love and desperation.

As unconsciousness pulled me under again, I let myself believe rescue had come just in time.