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The bathroom had another door, which I had ignored entirely.
That was my mistake. I wasn’t sure, but I thought it led to the back alley of the minimart, a perfect escape route for him. Yet as he kicked it open, a chilling gust of wind swept in, making me shiver.
Tristan remained still, his icy stare never leaving the man’s face. He looked like a statue carved out of ice, unmoving and cold. But beneath that calm façade, I could see fury simmering in his blue eyes.
“Wait,” Tristan said. “Take me. Not her. She’s family, not a player. You want a Callahan? You can have Malachy’s son.”
The man’s smirk grew wider, a shadow of pure amusement flickered across his face as he glanced at Tristan. “I’ve got the best of both worlds here. An Orsini and a Callahan.” His words were heavy with ill humor as he looked back at me, his grip around me tightened.
A whirlwind of fear and confusion circled around me. I was more valuable because I was pregnant with Tristan’s child—a fact we had tried to conceal, yet somehow it was out there, making me more vulnerable. How did he know? How did anyone but Carmen and Kieran know?
I could tell that it was going against Tristan’s every instinct not to launch himself at my captor.
“Don’t hurt her.”
“Tristan,” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. The metallic taste of terror tainted my tongue.
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “I’ll tell my boss to keep his hands off the merchandise.”
He took a deep breath, smelling my hair. I wanted to throw up. The cold metal of the gun mixed with the heat of his breath made me so nauseous.
“Don’t touch her,” Tristan’s voice was chillingly calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that sent shivers down my spine. He had his gun aimed squarely at the man holding me captive. I could see it in his eyes; he was prepared to do whatever it took to keep me safe.
“Sure,” the man leered, his grip around my waist tightening. “As long as you do exactly what we tell you to.”
Tristan nodded stiffly, his icy gaze never wavering from the man’s face. The room was thick with tension, every second stretching into an eternity as we waited for the other shoe to drop.
“We’ll send you instructions,” he replied. “Do what we say and nothing will happen to her.”
And then he was dragging me away, out the door, toward a truck as Tristan followed. My captor never removed his gun and I had no choice but to stumble along.
A cold gust of wind tore through my thin clothes as we stepped into the alleyway. I shivered involuntarily, not just from the cold but also from fear. However, Tristan’s gaze on me was like a tangible presence, warm and promising help. I held onto that.
“Get in,” grumbled my captor, pushing me towards the open door of his truck. I took a step in and a loud bang echoed through the alleyway as a bullet whizzed past us, ricocheting off the steel metal truck.
My captor fell in a heap at my feet. Before I could try to get out, though, someone else was reaching over, closing the door behind me.
And we were driving away.
The world outside raced by in a blur as the realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I was being kidnapped. Panic bubbled up from within; a bitter cauldron fueled by fear and desperation. My pulse was a deafening drumbeat in my ears, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
As the truck sped away, reality settled over me like a leaden blanket. I was alone. Alone with my captor–or rather, the man who had replaced my captor. The original one lay unconscious–or worse–in the alleyway behind us.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said, his voice vaguely familiar. “I would have preferred if that hadn’t happened.”
I looked up at him, his reflection on the rearview mirror. He looked back at me through thick-rimmed black glasses, flashing me what looked like an apologetic smile.
“Nick Rossi?” I asked quietly. What had Tristan called him? A cold, calculating psychopath? Guess he really wasn’t the quiet nerd I thought he was in school. Once his father had gone down, he had been the one in charge of pursuing us. And pursuing us was exactly what he was doing. Fuck. I didn’t see a way I got out of this alive.
“Hi,” he said. “How are you doing, Ade?”
I struggled to maintain a brave face, my hands clutching at the cold leather of the seat as I fought to keep my voice steady. “What do you want from me, Nick?” The fear in my voice was palpable, even to my own ears, but I needed information if I was going to survive—if we were going to survive.
Nick’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and for a fleeting second, I saw something flicker in their depths. Regret? Pity? It was hard to tell. “That’s for me to know,” he said with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “But let’s just say, you and your baby are valuable commodities in this game we’re playing. And I always play for keeps.”
The truck veered suddenly, sending us down an obscured dirt path that seemed to swallow all light and sound from the world outside. The trees loomed ominously overhead, casting skeletal shadows through the window as we bounced along the uneven ground. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest, each beat echoing Nick’s haunting words—‘valuable commodities.’
Then, out of nowhere, the truck’s interior light snapped on, illuminating a new terror that had been hiding in the shadows. A second man emerged from the passenger seat—a silent, imposing figure masked in shadow and menace. He leaned back with purposeful slowness and whispered into my ear, his voice sending shivers down my spine.
