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It’s been dark for hours or what feels like it.
I watched the light from the window travel across the wall as the day progressed until finally, the light was gone, and night fell. The worst part is not knowing how much time has passed. I don’t have the faintest idea how late it is. It could be tomorrow morning, for all I know.
I’m so thirsty. All I can think about is having something to drink. Even the gnawing hunger and the worsening cold aren’t as intense as my thirst.
There have been voices outside the door, though that was probably meant as a way to scare me. Nobody has come in since Alessandro visited this morning. It was much more fun for them to stand outside and talk about all of the things they wanted to do to me. They wanted to hurt me, to cut the dress away from my body, to spread me open wide and…
I force myself to shake my head and squeeze those ugly thoughts away. That’s how they win. They get into my head and make me imagine the things they describe. I’m stronger than this. I’m not going to fall for their trap.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. Every hour that passes leaves me a little less certain of my strength because every hour that passes leaves these guys feeling bolder. Like they’re going to get away with it. And there’s no telling what a man will do when he’s got an idea in his head.
Luca, you need to hurry.
I should get up. I should force myself to get some exercise to get my blood pumping. The idea of stretching out is too much to stand, though. As cold as I am all curled into a ball, it’s so much worse when I’m not huddled up. There has to be a limit to how long I can stand this, right? I’m not cold enough to freeze to death—at least, I don’t think so—but who’s to say? Eventually, my body is going to break down. With no food or water, and my teeth chattering miserably, I can’t endure it forever. No one could.
The worst part is, I’ve probably been here around twenty-four hours. Maybe thirty. Hardly more than a day, but it seems like an eternity of misery has passed.
The part that makes me tremble with revulsion is how my heart leaps not with fear but with hope when the lock on my door clicks loudly. Hope that they’re bringing me water, a blanket, and food. I force myself to sit up, my stiff muscles awkward and slow to obey. Somehow, there’s still part of me that won’t allow me to show weakness, at least not while they’re in the room with me.
I groan inwardly at the sight of the men who kidnapped me, along with another two men I don’t recognize. What are they doing that they need four men? Fear uncoils in my belly like a snake. They’re not here to sit down and have a chat.
“Not so feisty now, are you?” the man with the black eye snickers, elbowing his friend. “Not so pretty anymore, either.”
“I would say the same to you, only you weren’t pretty in the first place,” I retort, and one of the men behind them snickers, trying to cover it up with a cough.
All he does is offer a cold smile full of nastiness. “I’m going to fucking love this.” He sighs, like a man who’s been looking forward to a big event that’s finally arrived.
Then they’re on me, taking me by the arms, hauling me to my feet. Panic explodes in my head, and instinct leaves me fighting, kicking, and snarling at them. “Get your fucking hands off me!” It’s amazing how loud I can scream when I’m so weak.
“That’s right.” One of the men laughs as they drag me from the room and into the brightly lit hallway. “Keep fighting. Like it’ll do you any good.”
Even the stale air in the hallway outside the room is better than the stench of piss. Fluorescent lighting casts a bluish glare that leaves me blinking hard after hours spent in near darkness. My head swings around as I try desperately to get a sense of where I am or where I’d have to run to escape. I don’t see an exit, though, only more doors leading to more rooms. Where the hell are we?
We turn a corner, and I realize they’re leading me to an open door. In an instant, I notice what’s spread out on the floor inside. “What is this? What are you doing? Get off me! You bastards!” My bare feet slide across the floor no matter how I try to plant them, to make myself immovable. It’s no use. They drag me into the room with plastic sheets spread out beneath a single wooden chair.
It’s like Luca’s office, the night we met. There’s plastic everywhere. They’re going to make me bleed. A fresh burst of adrenaline makes me kick and scream, and my foot connects with the chair and knocks it over before one of the guards backhands me hard enough to make my head snap to the side. “Stop wasting your fucking time,” he snarls out while I bite back a cry of pain and taste blood in my mouth. Soon, the chair is upright, and I’m slammed into it, my hands zip-tied behind me, and my ankles zip-tied to the legs.
“All this fighting and struggling.” His voice rings out over the rushing of blood in my ears just as he comes in, smooth, silky, and deceptively gentle. I force myself to look up into Alessandro’s cold eyes, as defiant as possible while quaking and screaming inside.
This is it. This is where I die, where my story ends, and Luca never came. In my heart, I know he tried, but there wasn’t enough time. I only hope he’ll believe I did my best for him. That I never broke down. It stiffens my spine and helps me sit upright to glare at my captor without trembling.
I won’t be a coward.
“Look at you.” Alessandro shakes his head mournfully, his dark curls gleaming in the light from the overhead bulb. This room is just like the one I came from, except there’s no bed. A storage facility, maybe? It could be. I’ll never know for sure, will I?
“That’s going to bruise,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his fingers over his cheek, indicating the place where my face throbs after I was slapped.
“I think I can handle it,” I mutter, pretending the ache doesn’t have me fighting back tears.
“I bet you can.” His smile seems almost genuine. “For what it’s worth, I wish I had found you first. I would like to get to know you better,” he murmurs softly like he approves.
“Am I supposed to be flattered?” I ask, scoffing. “Because I’m not. Your opinion doesn’t mean shit.”
“Hey, nobody can say I didn’t try to be friendly.” He folds his arms, stepping back and glancing at the men standing behind me. With a slight nod, one of them steps up beside me, and I catch the way his fists clench and release from the corner of my eye. He’s getting himself ready.
Alessandro levels a hard gaze my way, lowering his brow. No more Mr. Nice Guy. “Tell me everything you know about the Santoro family. What they’re planning. Where they intend to attack what’s mine.”
“I already told you,” I report in a flat voice. “I have nothing to offer.”
