The rooftop wind whipped around Lena like it was trying to slice her open, stinging every inch of her exposed skin. The blindfold over her eyes was tight, her hands and feet bound. “Where am I?” she croaked, her voice shaky, barely louder than the howling gusts.

Her head felt foggy-drugged, obviously. But who’d done it? And why?

The height alone, with the wind howling this loud, told her she was up high. Like, skyscraper high.

Silence. Not even a whisper back.

She wasn’t sure what was worse-the idea of being totally alone or that someone might actually be lurking out there.

Then-clang! A beer can hit something nearby, the sound sharp enough to make her flinch

hard.