As a mischief detective, Jayme is no stranger to challenging situations. However, this predicament is more serious than usual. She finds herself tightly bound to a chair, the rough rope securing her wrists above her head, while her ankles are firmly tied to the chair's legs. A coarse canvas bag has been pulled over her head, plunging her into darkness and confusion. Jayme struggles desperately against her restraints, the fibers digging into her skin, her muffled pleas for help stifled by a cleave gag that stretches painfully across her mouth.


Her captor is after a crucial flash drive that Jayme has managed to acquire, a piece of evidence she knows she must protect at all costs. Even through her gag, she insists she doesn't have it, her voice a strained murmur of defiance. But her captor is relentless, convinced she is hiding the drive somewhere on her person. His hands search her scantily clad body with methodical determination, his touch invasive and degrading, leaving her feeling both humiliated and vulnerable.


Despite his thorough search, he finds nothing, but he is not ready to concede defeat. He leaves Jayme alone, still bound and gagged in the dimly lit garage, the air heavy with the scent of oil and dust, while he contemplates his next move