The cars drove for more than two hours, reaching a cabin nestled in a wooded area, guarded by several armed men. Kathen pulled his daughter out of the car, while Courney tenderly held the sleeping baby with a pacifier in her mouth, blissfully unaware of everything.

Kathen signaled one of the men, instructing, "Bring down the woman from the other car and lock her up in one of the rooms." He nudged his daughter to walk inside the house.

The journey felt endless for Lindsey. She had no idea where they were taking her, staying silent, realizing that protesting would be futile. The car finally stopped, and she observed the surroundings—a rustic house far from civilization. A man grabbed her arm and led her inside. She didn't resist; this man was just following orders, dragging her along.

He opened a door and pushed her into the room. It was a wooden space with only a bed. She sat at the edge of the bed, hugging herself for strength, nerves on edge. With trembling hands, she murmured, "God,