Bound

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*Rocky's Perspective*

As I end the conference call, Liam barges into my office. I give him a questioning look as it's so unlike him to just walk in and not knock.

"It couldn't wait," urgency lacing his words.

"What is it?" I question.

Liam hesitates for a second before dropping a folder on my desk. Without delay, I grab for the folder and flip through it. There are a series of photos. Photos that almost bring my breakfast up to my throat. Grabbing the desk for support, I take deep breathes.

I push up from the desk and try Sky's number but it only goes to message bank. "Dammit!" I shout in frustration slamming my fist onto the desk.

"How did this happen?" I question him while trying Sky's phone again. The call goes straight to the message bank.

Liam shakes his head. "I have no idea, sir. We thought we had them but we didn't."

"Who took the photos?"

"I don't know. My guess must be Nathan but I cannot entirely be sure," Liam replies.

"But she was in the penthouse. How could someone grab her from there?" I question.

Liam shakes as I grab my keys. "Find out where she is immediately," I say frantically rushing for the door.

"I have people looking into it but perhaps we should involve the police," Liam says stopping me in my track.

"If hey have her, who they are," I say. "The last thing we can do is go to the police. They'll hurt her."

I turn on my feet and practically find myself running out of my office, Liam's footsteps echoing shortly behind mine.

Liam's hand lands on my shoulder as he stops me. "You can't just rush out of here without actually knowing where she is."

I shake my head. "Try and stop me," I growl. "That's my wife!" I shout. "I can't let them hurt her. She's my number one priority."

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*Sky's Perspective*

The sound of the door slamming tells me someone is here. The footsteps in my direction get louder but the fabric bound around my eyes don't allow me to actually see who it is or where I am.

My throat dries up and images of Daniella and I pop in my mind. Last time I was tied and constrained, we almost died at the hands of Paul. The flashbacks are vivid as I try to stay still, not allowing my kidnappers to know that I'm scared to death.

Grasping the chair's arms to steady my quivering hands, I listen carefully for any hint to use to my advantage.

There is talk outside of the room I'm held in—if you can even call it a room since I don't know where I am. All I know is that it must have four walls and a door because very often, the sound of the opening door echoes in my ears. I, however can't decipher what is being said. From where I'm constrained on the chair, the words are a murmur.

I pull at the rope holding my hand in place, my attempt to free myself but it falls utterly useless. I'm bound thoroughly—the job of a professional.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you," the voice says. Male, old. That's all I can tell. "We don't want to hurt you. So if you behave and do as we say, we'll let you go."

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