The interior of the van was a sterile, white wall that smelled of industrial bleach and stale air. There were no windows, only the reinforced tinted glass separating the cage from the front seats.
Amos had slammed the double-bolt of the rear doors, its sound echoing through Emily's bones and leaving her trapped in a box.
Emily lay on the cold floor, her eyes darting around as she struggled to make sense of the space. Her breath seized the moment her eyes caught the leather restraints dangling from the gurney bolted above her. She scrambled to her feet, her fingers trembling as she pulled out the burner phone Alex had given her. The screen's glow was a tiny spark in the gloom.
She could still hear the muffled chaos at the St. Regis; the shouting of security and the panicked chatter of wedding guests.
