Horror hits like a ton of bricks. Dammit, Reuben!

Emelia fumbles for her phone, desperate to silence it, but it's too late.

A hand reaches around the bush and grabs a fistful of her hair.

'Emmy!' Sofie cries as Emelia is dragged out from their hiding place with a shriek.

'Mon Dieu, what do we have here?' François says. 'A little eavesdropper.'

'Ow! Let go of me!' Emelia scrabbles to get her feet beneath her, adrenaline turning them jelly-like and useless.

'I'll be taking this, merci.' He tears the phone from her hand and closes his fist around it. The ringtone cuts off with a crunch as he crushes it. Breaking it as easily as he broke Stanislav's hand.

Emelia stares in dismay as what's left of the device cascades to the ground, and then her hands shoot up to wrap around his wrist as he hauls her up, her scalp screaming in protest.

François looks her up and down, and smiles with a bloody mouth. 'What a treat.'

'There's another,' Jacques informs and Sofie releases a scream when he seizes hold of her.

'Leave her alone, you psycho!' Emelia yells, anger momentarily eclipsing her terror.

'Oh là là,' François says in a light sing-song voice. 'Tu es impoli.'

He releases her hair and grasps her arms instead, swiveling her to face him.

Now closer up, and with grace from the streetlights, Emelia is able to see him properly and is momentarily stunned.

The guy is young; he can only be a few years older than her at most. His face is pale and the drying blood looks extra red against it and contrasts vividly with the curly black hair atop his head.

Dark circles paint the space beneath his eyes. The kind someone gets when they haven't slept in a long time.

Maybe he hasn't, she thinks. Maybe he's been too preoccupied with murder to get a good night's sleep.

And his eyes themselves... She's never seen such a vibrant green. Like emeralds.

They would be beautiful if they didn't belong to a murderer.

'How long have they been here?' Jacques asks. He scowls down at Sofie, who's trembling in his hold. 'How much did you see?'

Sofie offers no response, just stares up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

'We didn't see anything,' Emelia says, putting as much conviction in her voice as possible. She hopes it's convincing.

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François' smile disappears and those intense eyes narrow. 'Do you really expect me to believe that?'

Emelia darts a look over his shoulder at the dead bodies strewn across the street. That will be us at any moment.

The thought ignites her and she lashes out, kicking and aiming for his groin. But he just maneuvers out of the way and tightens his hold, fingers digging cruelly into her flesh.

'Let go!' Emelia shouts, breath coming hard and fast. 'Let me-'

'Keep fighting and I swear I'll kill you.'

She freezes, all the while her heart keeps speeding, and François makes a pleased sound.

It looks like you two are coming with us.'

No. Emelia shakes her head. No, they couldn't go anywhere with these men. She's heard enough stories to know what happens to those taken to a second location.

'T'es sérieux?' Jacques asks, looking incredulous.

'Oui,' François says. 'Search the other one.'

Jacques digs around Sofie's pockets and removes her phone, which meets the same fate as Emelia's; broken and discarded.

'There's some cash in my purse,' Emelia says quickly, wishing she had more to offer and hoping that's all they decide to take. 'You can have it. Please just let us go.'

François laughs, the sound mocking. 'We don't want your money.'

He hauls her towards the car, not bothering to slow when she trips or tries to dig her feet in.

When he throws open the car boot instead of the passenger door Emelia rears back.

'Wait, no- you can't put us in there!' she exclaims.

But François simply laughs again and forces her in despite her struggling. Sofie is roughly bundled in after her and then the boot is slammed shut, sealing them in claustrophobic darkness.

Emelia blinks rapidly, trying to adjust her eyes to the lack of light. She shifts onto her side in the uncomfortably small space and gets kneed in the stomach by her cousin.

'I can't- I can't breathe. I can't breathe in here,' Sofie says, voice high with hysteria. 'We need to get out.'

'Yep,' Emelia replies, barely able to hear her voice above the heartbeat in her ears. Solid statement there. Would be great if it came with a plan of action.

Emelia blindly feels around her side of the boot but there doesn't seem to be anything inside with them that could be used as a tool or weapon.

'Sofie, check if there's some sort of safety latch.' Cars are supposed to have those, right?

But Sofie is too busy hyperventilating, limbs flailing around in a space that's too crammed for them. 'There's no air,' she gasps.

'There is,' Emelia says while fighting to keep her own breathing under control. She can't afford to lose her head. 'I promise there is. Now calm down and check for a latch.'

She feels Sofie shift, hopefully doing as instructed. 'I don't feel- There isn't one,' she says.

'There has to be.'

'There isn't!'

Gritting her teeth, Emelia pushes herself up as much as she can. Her back presses against the roof of the boot as she clambers over Sofie to check for herself.

'Don't kick me again,' she says as she feels around and- dammit, there really is no latch. Why the hell is there no latch?!

'We're gonna die,' Sofie whispers and Emelia can hear the tears in her voice.

'We- we won't,' Emelia replies, and it feels like a dirty lie. 'We'll figure something out. It's going to be fine.' Lie, lie, lie.

'It's got to be past eleven-thirty by now, right? Your mum and dad will know something's wrong.' Emelia prays her aunt and uncle call the police straight away instead of waiting because her own parents certainly won't realise anything until it's way too late.

'And there are cameras everywhere in London,' she continues, for her own sake. 'We won't just disappear without a trace.'

If Sofie replies, Emelia doesn't hear it above the roar of the engine. Then the car is accelerating violently and she loses her balance, half falling across her cousin.

Sofie whimpers and jerks, breath hot and harsh across Emelia's face. The car spins around and Emelia uses the momentum to roll off of her, hmphing when she hits the other side of the boot.

The bastards aren't even bothering to drive considerately.

Her stomach roils and she prays she doesn't throw up, because that would only add to this real-life nightmare.

Please, she thinks to a god she doesn't even believe exists. Please let us survive this.