Chapter Three

When I'm flat on the ground, safe and slightly uninjured, except for the stinging in the bottom of my feet and ankles from the land, I let out another large breath and scramble off the ground. I don't know where I'm running, and I don't remember where they had parked the van, if I was even on the right side of the cabin, so I just ran into the forest, and prayed it eventually leads to a road.

A few feet back, their voices are louder, and I can tell they have realized I'm outside. If I get lost, it's only a matter of time before one of them finds me and drags me back.

Please, God, let me be running towards the road.

Regardless of if my prayers are going to be answered, I pick up my knees high and keep running as fast and far as I could. Like in most dramatic chase scenes, I don't look where I'm going, and trip right over a fallen tree, heading face first into the dirt and grass. I cry out when my ankle twists against the wood, stinging even more. It's hopeless to try and run now.

I try to stand and put pressure on it, but pain shoots up my leg, feeling like daggers piercing my bones from the inside. I bite my lip to old back another cry, hoping I am at least deep enough in the woods, that they won't find me for a while. I limp over to the fallen tree and crouch on the ground behind it, closing my eyes and trying to nurse my foot at least a little, enough to continue running.

My breathing is shallow, telling me I'm not in shape enough to continue running aimlessly, I must try and think of a plan to find my way out, before one of them finds me. Something tells me the man who was with me last night is good at tracking people, and he was the first to discover I was gone. He should be close behind me, I'm not a very fast runner, and he is at least 5 foot 10 in height, very tall compared to my short 5-foot 2 body.

I wiggle my toes, happy that it doesn't hurt to move them, before I turn my ankle and test it out again. It still hurts to put pressure on it, but now I can put enough to slowly limp run towards my right. I send another silent prayer that I'm not running right into one of them, but know I have to change my direction if I hope to find a sense of where the road is. I stop and lean on trees to catch my breath and give my stronger foot a break from taking most of the pressure.

If I keep stopping like this, they're going to catch up.

I have to keep pushing forward, no matter how much the pain hurts. I push down harder on my foot and continue to bite my lip as I trudge on, much more aware of my surroundings. Just as I start to feel confident that I'm getting farther, a voice cried out from behind me.

"Ava don't make this harder than it has to be. If you keep running, I'm going to have to kill you." It's the blue-eyed man, I know it. His threat quickens my pace, but after a few heavy strokes, the pain is too much, and I cry out as I fall to the ground. I begin to panic again when the sounds of running footsteps grow closer, and his face is in front of mine within minutes.

"Are you crazy? Why are you fighting this so much? We aren't going to hurt you, we just want to get to your parents," he growls as he reaches for me.

"Don't touch me!" I scream and try to back away from him. I mistakenly use my sprained foot and can't stop the cry that whimpers out from the pain. His face suddenly turns scared, and he looks me over.

"Where are you hurt? What happened?" he asks, reaching for me again.

"I said don't touch me, I don't want your help," I whimper.

"Please, you're hurt, and I need to know where so I can help take the pain away. I'm not going to hurt you, Ava."

"You said you have to kill me."

He lets out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry, alright? If I don't get you back to my employer without a scratch on you, I'm going to be in major trouble, more than you think you are."

"What makes you think I care about your wellbeing?" I sneer, still wincing from the shooting pain.

"Can you please just let me help you? I'm taking you back to the cabin, whether you like it or not. Since you're injured, I would much rather do it the easy way," he huffs. He has clearly run more then he thought he can handle. I give myself another silent pat on the back for making him work to catch me, but still curse myself a little for being so blind, and tripping like a cliché dumb chick in a horror flick. I would be the first to die.

After contemplating the chances of pushing him to the ground, taking advantage of his weakness, and making a run for it, I also considered the fact that he is just breathless, while I am almost completely unable to walk, let alone take off as fast as I can. I give in to his outstretched hand and allow him to slowly help me off the ground. Before I can test my weight on the sprained ankle, he picks me up swiftly and starts trudging back through the forest.

"Is this really necessary?" I mutter, feeling the blush creep on my face and neck. I am so easily embarrassed, and I always show it.

"You can barely walk; we're never going to make it back if you try and limp the entire way. This is much easier and time efficient. If you hadn't smelt it before, we had bacon and eggs cooking for breakfast, and I would very much like some," he mumbles as he continues his quickened pace over the damp leaves and twigs, covered in fresh morning dew.

I huff but take advantage of not having to put my ankle through any more pain, it's already throbbing enough. We quickly arrive back at the cabin, where Lucas and the other man are waiting on the steps.

"Glad you found her," the other man say. I had a clear view of what he looked like now, and I was surprised to point out the resemblance to the man carrying me almost right away. His eyes aren't as intense a blue, they are a softer, darker color, but he has the same high cheek bones and chiseled jaw, with slightly lighter hair. He is a little more built, and the amount of facial hair that covers his chin and upper lip told me he might be the older brother; if they are related.

"It wasn't easy, she sprained her ankle I think."

"For Christ sake, why did you have to go and do that for? I don't think we have anything to tend to that," he complains and throws his hands up.

"Are you two related?" The question flies out of my mouth before it can register. They both look at me incredulously.

"How did you know?" the man carrying me asks.

"You guys kind of look alike," I shrug. They glare at me.

"No we don't," they exclaim in unison. That gives away that they are siblings, and tells me that there's a possibility they didn't get along when they were younger.

"That's Charles," Lucas pipes in and points to the man in front of me. "And that's Ashton, the younger brother." He points to the gorgeous blue-eyed man carrying me. Even his name is handsome in a way. As an avid reader, some names stand out to me, and his is one of them.

"Lucas, what did I say about revealing person information?" Ashton growls, still holding me in his arms.

Lucas rolls his eyes. "We cooked her breakfast, and you're carrying her like your God damn wife. The least she can know is your name."

I feel Ashton's arms tense around me, before he practically drops me to the ground. I drop to the dirt with a soft thud, thankful I don't land on my ankle in anyway, but now my ass hurts.

"You didn't have to do that," Lucas frowns and rushes to help me up. He slings my arm over his shoulder and helps me walk up the stairs into the kitchen. Neatly prepared plates and utensils are laid out on the dining room table, enough for all of us.

"I'm sitting with you?" I ask.

"Of course, we aren't mean people, just committing a mean crime," Lucas says and stops to think what he said over. "If that makes you feel any better," he adds hopefully, dropping me down in one of the chairs gently.

"I can't really say how I feel right now," I murmur. I had just tried to escape, and they are acting like nothing is wrong. In fact, they help me all the way back, instead of dragging me like a rag doll, and are now feeding me a feast for breakfast. They have everything you could name that you would want to have for breakfast on the table, waffles and pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns. They even have toppings for the waffles and pancakes, like blueberries and cut up strawberries.

"Is this for real?" I ask, trying to keep my jaw from dropping to the table. I didn't even eat like this at home with my parents, and I thought we had over the top breakfast's. That is nothing compared to the whole feast in front of me, I didn't know where to start.

"Too much for you?" Charles asks, already digging into a piece of bacon.

"To be quite honest, a little, and not just the food," I say and frown at everything in front of me. "I don't think most victims get treated like this when they are kidnapped."

"Well, we aren't like most criminals, we're bounty hunters," Ashton says blankly, as if he is talking about the weather.

Bounty hunters? Is he serious?

"Why the hell am I a target?"

"You'll find out when we finally get you back to our employer, so he can explain why he wants you, and what he wants you for. Other than that, we don't know anything other than your name, address, school name and address, and the name of your parents and best friend. Sebastian, is it?" Ashton asks, giving me a wide grin that shakes me to my soul.

"How do you know all of that?" I whisper.

"Like he said, we're bounty hunters. It's our job to know everything about the person we're trying to track down and capture. We followed your for about a week, watching which routes you took to and from school, seeing how often you travelled those paths and how long it took you. It took us only a week to figure out your schedule, and see how many times you went to see that friend of yours. We found out his name when you screamed it," Charles says and winks at me, sending another shiver down my spine.

These guys are maniacs and stalkers!

"So why am I getting special treatment, if I'm just another target? I just tried to escape, if anyone remembers that" I trail out slowly, looking around the table to gauge their reactions. They all wear emotionless faces, not phased at all by what I said.

Lucas is the first to shrug his shoulders. "We like you; you seem cool."

Is he serious? I decide to leave the conversation as it is, right as my stomach starts to growl, telling me I am well overdue for the bacon that tempts in front of me. Without thinking about the men who surround me, I fill my plate with as much food as it can handle, and immediately dig in. I know I'm not a messy eater, I was obviously raised a lot better than that, but I'm still an odd girl who has a large appetite.

I try not to laugh through mouths full of food as they all stare at me with mild shock, a reaction I was expecting them to have. It seems they aren't used to seeing a girl devour so much food and remain somewhat lady-like.

"You either have a super-fast metabolism, or you work out like crazy," Charles mutters incredulously. "I haven't seen a girl eat that much food in less than an hour – or ever."

"I have a super-fast metabolism, always have, but still have a huge appetite as well. I never understood that, but never really complained about it either. It's a gift, what's there to be upset about?" I say, watching my plate as I re-fill it rather than paying attention to them as I speak.

"Impressive," he says. Lucas nods, his mouth hung open slightly as he continues to watch me go for seconds, this time a little bit of a smaller plate. Ashton looks at me with narrowed eyes, as if he is trying to figure me out, either that or he isn't sure what to make of the scene in front of him, shocked like the rest of his bounty members.

"We're leaving after everyone is done eating, so pack quickly," Ashton finally says, taking his empty plate and disappearing into the kitchen. I continue to munch on my food quietly, taking smaller and slower bites this time, before I completely lose my appetite and push the food away.

"Guess that appetite does have a limit," Charles says and laughs lightly. He seems like an interesting person, I'm unable to put my finger on him, or what he is going to do next. At first, he seemed kind of cold and ruthless, but now he seems at ease and almost boyish.

"Not really hungry anymore, I think I'll just wait until we leave."

"You can wait with me in the car," Ashton says, walking back out of the kitchen with the duffel bag. Lucas and Charles disappear down the halls, giving me no choice but to follow Ashton out the front door. He opens the back of the van for me, but quickly stops and spins me around before I can climb in. He grabs the rope from behind me and ties my hands up again, before pushing me into the back and slamming the door.

He hops into the passenger side and locks all the doors as soon as he gets in. For the next 10 minutes, we wait, until I hear the locks click, and the opposite side door opens to reveal Lucas, just as Charles climbs in. We speed off immediately, tearing through the slightly fallen forest and mud, not slowing down for anything. I try my best to keep myself against the side of the van, balanced on the ground, but it is almost impossible to avoid bouncing and hitting my head.

I'm thankful when it seems the road smooths out, and I can sit up-right again on the side of the van. Like before, everyone remains quiet as we drive to the unknown; at least, unknown for me. Even Lucas keeps his eyes on the front window, not saying a word or looking in my direction. I wonder if it is because he is nervous, his eyes are shifting slightly, even though he can't see much from where we we're sitting.

Who is this employer?

The longer it takes for me to meet them, the more I think of every bad thing that could happen when I do, and the way they have spoken of their employer, he or she doesn't seem like the greatest person. I hope they are at least a tiny bit as kind as Lucas is, and are keeping me alive because they do only want the money, and I already have faith that my parents will pay them whatever they want for my life. I really hope to God they do.

The road is so smooth after a while, I wonder if we are on the freeway, and if so, what direction we're heading? East, I have a few family members; west, I have never really been in that direction down the freeway. If that is where we are heading, I will have no idea where we could possibly end up, not even a small idea. That thought erases any last shred of hope I have of escaping again, though I know for the next day or two, however long they keep me hostage, I'm not going to be able to run on my ankle.

I hope that when we finally arrive at their destination, I can persuade Lucas to give me a packet of ice for my ankle and try my best to heal up as fast as I can. I know the police have at least been notified of my kidnapping, and if I can make it to the road, the best chance I have could be to signal a car, and tell the person who I am. If we haven't travelled that far outside of Los Angeles, anyone who watches the news or still reads the paper will know I am missing. That has to be a large percent of the city's population.

Right?

I chew my lip as I mull over the pressing thoughts in my head, unaware that we have come to a slow stop. This time, I am prepared for the door to swing open, and shuffle back before Ashton can exit the van. Like before, Lucas exits on one side and grabs the duffle bag, before Ashton comes around and opens the door next to me. He glares at me, and I can't understand why he suddenly looks so angry.

He reaches out and roughly grabs my arm to drag me out of the van, slamming the door shut with his other hand. He continues to drag me around the van, revealing a large, luxurious looking mansion. I can't help when my mouth pops open this time. The manor is larger than my place, much larger, and nicer looking.

The front pillars and wide steps leading to the front door are made of cracked white and black marble, glistening and smooth to the touch, my converse slipping slightly as I walked up. The doors are made of deep brown colored wood, just as smooth as the marble, but feels more real as I run my fingers across it. Ashton gives me an odd look, lifting his hand to unlock the door.

"You have a key?"

He frowns at me, as if I was asking an obvious question.

"Of course, I live here."

He lives with his employer? Or is this not his employer's house?

My mind continues to swirl with more pressing questions, still with missing answers. Ashton pushes open the doors and holds it open for Charles and Lucas right behind us. They split as soon as we enter the manor, going straight down a hallway off to the right of the foyer. There are two stair cases on either side of the large foyer, covered in a darker colored marble than the front, equally as sparkling. Ashton tightens his grip on my arm and pulls me up the left staircase to drag me down the hall.

We stop at the last door at the end of the hall. Ashton timidly knocks, standing back a bit afterwards. After a few seconds, a deep voice calls from the other side to come in. Ashton releases my arm and opens the door, walking in before me.

"We successfully kidnapped Anthony White's daughter, here as you requested," he says, before pushing me out from behind him. I gasp when I see the man in front of me, knowing exactly who he is. He grins at me, his white hair a little thinner than the mug shot I had last seen on TV, his eyes still the same menacing, bright blue.

It clicks than; they are a lot like Ashton's.

It isn't possible…

"Hello Ava, so wonderful to finally meet you," he says, clapping his hands together, the sound appearing much louder in the large, almost empty office room. "My name is Lucien Bradford, but by the look on your face, something tells me you might recognize me," he says, but he doesn't sound scared or upset about it.

He sounds giddy, as if he is excited that I know he is a wanted criminal, recently released from jail. He is known for robbing multiple banks, killing dozens of people along the way, and is rumored to be a part of drug smuggling and ties to the mafia. I only know what I have read in the papers and seen on TV, but regardless of what is true, he is dangerous and his presence alone terrifies me to the bone.

I look up towards Ashton, now standing next to me. I ask him silently with my eyes, what is going on. He frowns, hopefully understanding what I am trying to say.

"This is our employer, the man bargaining with your parents," he says quietly. A large lump forms in my throat and my heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, where it churns with the rest of the breakfast we had, making me feel sick.

I am going to be held hostage by this wanted criminal, for how long?

What will he do if he doesn't get his money? He has never been afraid to kill before.

I now understand why the guys had looked so nervous before bringing me here.

Even they are terrified of him, and they have every right.

I'm screwed.