She struggled against the restraints holding her hands behind her back, desperately wishing she could claw the bag away and take a deep, clean breath. She’d never take oxygen for granted again. Despite her best efforts, panic constricted her throat; her lungs burned from breathing in her own carbon dioxide. She resisted the man’s rough hand clamped around her upper arm like a manacle, but he was too strong. He forced her to stumble forward at a fast clip. Were they marching her to her death? The panic increased. She hyperventilated. Dots appeared before her eyes. No. She wouldn’t pass out. She fought to stay conscious. Where was Jeff? After his shout, he’d gone silent. Did that mean they’d separated them? Had they killed him? Her chest caved in at the thought. “Jeff!” she screamed. “Here” came his muffled reply. A measure of relief loosened the tightness cramping her insides.
