The Kidnapped Bride

Winnie’s POV

"If you make a sound, I'll slice you ear to ear," a cold voice said into my ear and I suddenly felt something sharp at my throat.

With a whimper I moved my gaze slowly to the side to see Trisha kneeling some steps away with a gun that was glinting in the moonlight, pressed to her temple.

"Winnie," her voice trembled, tears running down her eyes.

"Nobody has to get hurt today," the masked man leaning over me said, "Get up."

I slowly climbed out of the bottom level of my bunk bed, hands held in the air while my heart pounded in my chest.

Who the hell were these men? And how had they gotten in here?

"Good girl," he nodded in approval, "Now the four of us are going to leave here as quietly as possible. If you do anything to alert anybody, we'll kill you. Understand?"

I nodded hurriedly and Trisha did the same. The man with his gun trained on her tucked the weapon back into his waist band and then grabbed her shoulder and roughly pulled her to her feet.

The four of us snuck out the door and down the dark hallway. At the end of the corridor, I saw one of the uniformed guards slouched on the floor. On closer inspection, I realized he was lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Oh God," Trish whimpered and my stomach revolted at the sight.

Who were these men that were so fearless to kill law enforcement and break into a maximum prison to kidnap two inmates?

And most importantly, what did they want with us?

"I hope you can swim," the one at my back whose dark mask had red stitching on one cheek said.

"Are we going for a swim?" My blonde friend asked.

The other one chuckled, "Something like that."

With a grimace, red stitching bent and pushed open a hole in the ground covered by a metal lid.

The smell that wafted up was rancid. I covered my nose and my eyes watered.

"What's in there?" Trish asked in a small, unsure voice.

"Get in," one of the men growled.

She shot me a terrified glance before disappearing into the hole. I went down next, dropping into the pungent darkness.

There were puddles of water at my feet and the smell made me feel like I couldn't breathe. I realized it was a sewer.

My arm was gripped and we were led down for several minutes until we came to the end of the dark tunnel. The man holding Trish kicked the grating away and we climbed out into a dark street.

We were tossed carelessly into the back of a van and shut in. A moment later, the vehicle peeled away.

"Argh," Trish cried as she lurched with the movement of the van, crashing painfully into the metal side.

"Hey, it's fine, we're okay," I grabbed her hand.

"Where are they taking us?" She asked frantically.

"I don't know," I replied, "But if they wanted us dead, we'd be dead."

Since I had been thrown into The Saint's federal maximum prison three years ago, I had shared a cell with Patricia and we were as close as sisters now. I had thought I was surely going to die in there, but it seemed someone had a different plan for me.

We were just going to have to wait and find out.

We fell asleep hours into the drive and I finally woke up when the car pulled to a stop.

I tapped Trish to wake her up just as the back of the van opened and we were hurled out and into a ramshackle building.

"Walk faster, bitch," the one holding my friend snapped, pushing her so roughly she almost face planted to the ground.

I gritted my teeth as fury washed through me.

The sky was now bright with the early rays of the morning and I wondered where we were.

"Bring them in," I heard a woman's hard voice order and we were pushed through a door into a bare room.

A woman in a black pantsuit stood in the middle of the room standing with her hands crossed over her chest.

Her hair was a faded blonde tied into a severe bun and her light blue eyes were as cold as chips of ice as they settled on me.

"You must be Edwina Cornwell," she began, "My name is Lucrezia and I have a job for you."

"I don't remember applying for any job," I raised a brow at her.

Who was this woman? How did she have the power and audacity to break into a federal prison?

"Hilarious," she dead panned, "Unfortunately, I'm not in the market for a comedian."

"How do you know my name?"

She rolled her eyes, "That's not what's important right now."

"It sounds pretty important to me," I retorted.

Her eyes hardened and I heard a gun cock behind me. I froze and Trisha's fingers on my arm tightened, nails digging into my flesh.

"I'm the one who'll be asking the questions here, got it?" She snarled.

I swallowed nervously, "of course. I got it."

She approached me, towering over me in her high heels. Her gaze ran down my body, from the top of my hair to the grey prison uniform on my body and to my feet encased in ratty sneakers.

"You'll do," she nodded, "You'll have to get a haircut, contact lens and lose some weight. Some make up will be necessary. There's no time for a surgical procedure so you're just going to have to wing it."

I gaped at her, "What are you talking about?"

" Didn't I say I'll be the one asking the questions around here?" Her hands lashed out and reached for my jaw, long nails pinching at my face, "You'll need to get your ears pierced. And then do something about these horrible freckles."

I staggered away from her touch and the cloying scent of her perfume.

She clapped her hands together, "Let's begin. The wedding begins in a few hours and we can't have the bride missing, can we?"