The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman)

The man's curt words and the tension in his body made it suddenly, horribly clear

to Anastasia what was about to happen.

In that instant, her world seemed to collapse into darkness.

Someone was here to ruin her-completely, irreversibly.

But she knew, almost by instinct, this wasn't Asher's doing. If Asher wanted the

chip, he wouldn't take this risk, not in such a brazen way. He was too careful-a

guy who knew how to disappear the second things got messy. Besides, these

men hadn't mentioned the chip at all.

Anastasia screamed for help, her voice bouncing off grimy walls, but it was like

one of those nightmares where you shout and nothing happens. No one heard.

No one was coming.

She was helpless a lamb led to slaughter.

Not even when Harmon had kidnapped her had she been this scared.

With no way out, she started bargaining. "Please, let me go. I'll give you anything

-money, whatever you want!"

Pride and dignity didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was survival.

She understood, deep down, if these men did what they wanted, her life would be

shattered forever.

"Save your energy for later," the man said, voice flat and cold.noveldrama

No taunting, no threats-just the cold, hard truth.

"Who sent you?" Anastasia croaked, her throat raw. "If you're going to kill me, at

least tell me why."

"You don't need to know," he answered. "Just cooperate. We'll take some pictures

to prove we did the job, then we're gone. Relax, sweetheart, there's four of us.

"We'll make sure you don't forget it."

They were stone-faced, giving nothing away. To be sure she stayed put, they

forced pills down her throat.

Her mind went fuzzy, limbs heavy and useless, a bitter taste foaming in her mouth

from whatever they'd made her swallow.

She tried to pull off the blindfold, but hands pinned her arms behind her back. A

cold draft hit her as they tore at her clothes.

Everything blurred. She slipped in and out, reality mixing with hallucination. "No,

please, don't... let me go... please..." she whispered over and over.

She heard a camera's shutter snap.

Anastasia knew, with a sick certainty, she'd live with this stain forever.

Sounds faded. The world spun. She couldn't tell what was real and what was just

nightmare.

It felt endless minutes or hours, she had no idea. Maybe she only imagined it,

but suddenly she heard a voice: "Anastasia, run! Snap out of it! Don't worry about

me-just run!"

Was that Rowan? She couldn't be sure. The world was a blur of chasing hands

and tearing voices.

Then another, softer voice: "Anastasia, don't be scared, it's me-Herman. I'm

sorry, I'm so sorry I'm late..."

Herman was crying.

Why was he crying?

Anastasia blacked out, wishing she would never wake.

But even if she never opened her eyes again, reality wouldn't let her go.

Within an hour, word of her disappearance hit the news. And soon after, the

photos started cropping up online.

Riverdale, usually as calm as a

summer night, was suddenly a

storm. Rumors flew-everyone

talking about the Elysian

Technologies boss's wife missing

for an hour, and what could have

happened in that time.

The story grew, twisted, and spread like wildfire.

Anastasia didn't wake up for two days.

When she finally did, she was home,

barely alive from the overdose. The

memories crashed over her,

relentless and raw. She broke down,

howling in grief.

Herman rushed in. "Anastasia, I'm here. I'm right here."

"Don't come near me!" she sobbed, curled under the covers, hugging herself tight

as tears streamed down her face. "I'm filthy..."

Herman crossed the room, pulled her into his arms. "Anastasia, please, it's over.

You're safe now."

"It's not over," she choked out, digging her nails into her skin, desperate to scrub

away the memory.

The images wouldn't stop. They dragged her down, again and again.

Herman just held her, whispering comforts he hoped she could hear.

He didn't know exactly what had

happened that night. When he found

her, she wasn't at the old barn like

the message had said. Instead, she

was collapsed on the roadside, her

clothes torn and stained with blood.

The scratches and cuts on her were mostly from branches and brambles.

Dailey and his crew searched the woods and found the barn. The men who'd

taken Anastasia? All dead.

Only Anastasia knew what really happened.

Before Herman could piece it all together, those photos hit the internet.

They didn't show anything explicit-but her battered, disheveled state told

everyone enough. The gossip was merciless.

You know what they say: even if you're innocent, when mud sticks, it doesn't

come off.

It all happened so fast-too fast for Herman to even guess who was behind it.