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Dread kicks me in the gut, and I fumble with the rope. The baby chooses that moment to kick back. He’s right. I can’t stop just because I’ve gotten caught.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the man snarls.
This must be Tommy’s son. Why else would he look so much like my captor? If they’re anything alike, then the consequences for trying to escape will be dire.
Not wasting any energy to answer, I continue climbing down.
He disappears for a moment, making me wonder if he’s untying the ropes. A bead of sweat dangles off my lashes and threatens to sting my eye. I blink it away and quicken my descent.
The man reappears, holding a gun. “Stop moving or I’ll shoot.”
My nostrils flare. Is everyone in this family insane?
“Did Tommy give you permission to kill the pregnant woman?” I yell at the top of my voice.
“Danillo! The bitch is trying to escape through the balcony.” He crouches to the base of the railings and pulls at the ropes, and one of them loosens.
Terror seizes me by the throat, forcing out a scream. “Stop!”
The rope falls to the ground. I grab the second and pray the man isn’t malicious or stupid enough to let me fall to my death.
“What the fuck?” screams a voice from below.
Shit. My heart slams against my ribcage and anxiety wraps around my throat. I’m surrounded.
“Don’t. Look. Down,” I growl at myself.
At the sound of yells and footsteps, temptation forces my gaze to the ground.
The drop is about a story and a half deep and four men race toward me holding guns. I whimper, my eyes snapping back to my hands, which won’t stop shaking.
A gunfight erupts below, and I flinch with every shot, imagining myself being hit with each bullet.
My insides riot. I can’t tell if it’s the baby or an advanced state of panic. My palms become slick, and my fingers won’t stop trembling. sweat pours in my eyes, making them sting.
I can’t fucking see.
My ears won’t stop ringing.
I’m losing control of my senses.
Tears pour freely down my cheeks, and I exhale a sob. I’m stuck between a shootout and an asshole trying to untie my last rope. Roman has probably already sacrificed himself in an ambush trying to save me and the baby, and Tommy is already on his way to turn me into his personal toilet.
I can’t hold on for much longer. My biceps ache and my forearms feel like they’re about to burst into flames.
At this rate, my only way out is falling to my death.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die, but all I see is Roman and all the times he was there when I needed him the most.
Our first kiss at the nightclub when I was desperate to escape arrest and certain assault. The way he punched Dominic so he would release my throat. The way my kidnapper’s head exploded into a cloud of blood and gore, only to reveal Roman with a gun.
My chest releases a hysterical laugh. He even rescued me from becoming a spectacle at the Mindful Birth class.
I wish Roman could save me now, but he’s probably dead.
My fingers ache and spasm. They’re so wet with sweat that I slip a few inches toward certain death.
The gunfight picks up in intensity, and my thoughts drift to Mom. If my biological father was anything like Tommy Galliano, then I understand why she never stopped running. She saved me from a life of corruption and degradation.
