~Camila’s POV~

The thought kept popping into my head, and as it did, I felt myself becoming more helpless and agitated on the inside. I couldn’t help but wonder why Luke and I would be taken hostage in the first place. Is Luke the one who did this to me? No, Luke wouldn’t do this to me. No, he simply cannot; after all, he is my friend.

No, Camila; Luke dated Mark. What if they are in this together?

There was a voice inside my head that murmured something. “Shut the fuck up!” Shut the…” I had just started speaking when I was interrupted by the sound of someone groaning. “Luke…Luke is that you….”

“The fuck, Camila, I can’t even be kidnapped in peace,” he groaned again.

“What? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Hey, you just found out you’re pregnant, and you know that cussing isn’t healthy. There is a baby.” I feel like slapping him right now.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“I should ask you that considering I just woke up and my head is spinning,” he laughed, “do we call for help?” I realize he is panicking, which explains everything.

“Well, I don’t know. When I opened my eyes, I found myself here, locked inside this place. I have no idea how I got here. I am not even sure if this is a room or what.”

in the first place? “Fuck!” he yelled. “The damn food!

The baby, my baby.

am scared. What would I do if something actually did happen to my unborn child? There is no way for us to tell what it

pussy. You are

Luke, I’m a pussy.” Luke can be quite dramatic, especially when he is in a state of panic. This

freaking Grayston. No one dares him, and he lives to tell the story. He will find us before whoever did this

so damn right

Chris. My husband found me. My husband

He turned and said, “And you.” He barked at Luke, pointing his index finger. “You

you did this to

the house means don’t leave the house, Camille. And the very next time you try to pull that kind of crap on me, I dare you not to do it. I might not be so fortunate next time.” I took a glance around. Luke

to throw us in the

God you’re…” He took a breather. “Forget it,” he

just stop trying to figure it

~Christopher’s POV~

down on the bed, rubbing my face with the palms of my hands. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I shuddered on the bed. The

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