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“Hurry that shit up! We have to go!” one of his accomplices shouted.
Mark moved to the front of the van, and I climbed in behind him.
I looked at my boyfriend. “It’s over now, right?”
Mark nodded, and in my relief, I missed the glance he exchanged with one of the other men.
Back at our apartment, I showered and changed into shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. I walked down the hall toward the lounge, hearing Mark on the phone.
“She doesn’t know anything.”
I paused, peeking around the door. Mark was standing by the chair with his back to me.
“You promised me a cut if I kept her around a little longer.”
I tensed at his words, but before I could make sense of them, the front door flew off its hinges with a loud splintering.
I screamed as a group of men charged into the apartment. Mark scrambled for his gun, but one of the guys lunged at him and punched him in the face.
Another man grabbed me by my hair. “Where’s the money?”
“Please, let me go!” I cried out, trying to jerk myself from his hold.
“Fuck you!” Mark fell to the ground.
“Bring them,” another man barked.
“Mark!” I screamed as the man restraining him knocked him unconscious.
My entire body ached. Mark and I were restrained in chairs beside each other. I didn’t recognize the clinical room with its white walls. We’d been brought here with bags over our heads.
The two other men involved in the robbery had given up our address before our current captors killed them. I’d begged and pleaded with them, promising to return the money in return for our freedom.
Mark grunted as the man landed another punch to his stomach.
“Stop! Please!” I begged.
He lifted my chin. “Bitch, you better pray the Boss doesn’t let us have a little fun with you later.”
I swallowed the nausea in my throat as the security men laughed.
When the door opened, and I looked up to meet Vincenzo’s icy gaze, I knew I would leave this room in a body bag.
Present Day
I sat on the floor of a dingy room. I’d been wearing the same clothes for the past two days. I hadn't bathed, eaten, or seen Vincenzo since the guards brought me here.
I wondered if Cassandra had tried to contact me or gone by my apartment. I’d ignored all her warnings about Mark. Sniffing away the tears, I thought about my life and the choices I’d made. My uncle had been right—Mark would be the death of me.
He’s dead. Mark is dead.
I backed into the corner as the door opened, and a guard finally came in holding a food tray.
“Eat.” He dropped it on the bed.
I looked at the sandwich and bottled water. “Not hungry,” I whispered.
He smiled mockingly. “I don’t fucking care if you starve to death, but we have plans for you.”
