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“Oh my God, I’m there,” I whimper.
My body trembles, my jaw quivers, and I sink my nails into his thigh.
I want to break skin, dig them in so deep that he’ll bleed for me.
He rises to his knees and fucks me faster.
Harder.
Until he’s taken everything and it’s his turn to fall apart.
His weight collapses onto mine as he fills me with his cum.
And for the first time post-sleep-paralysis episode, I drift back into a peaceful sleep.
Antonio, my captor, has provided me refuge from my fears as he lies beside me. He pulls me into his darkness, freeing me from my own.
“Where’s my captor?” I ask Leo. My legs are sore as I walk into the living room.
After waking up to an empty bed, I searched the closet for something to wear and showered. With limited options, I changed into a man’s button-up in the closet and yesterday’s skirt.
Antonio could’ve at least given me a heads-up to pack a bag for my abduction.
“Out,” Leo replies from the couch.
“You’re my keeper, then?” I open the fridge and pour a glass of orange juice.
Since the cabin has an open layout design, Leo watches every move I make. I join him and lounge on a chair. My gaze lowers, and I notice they’ve replaced the rug stained with Elijah’s blood. Maybe this maroon will blur out their next victim’s.
Fingers crossed it isn’t mine.
But Antonio is right. I trust him not to hurt me.
The problem is that other Lombardis want to.
Luckily, Antonio has given my prisoner ass somewhere nice to stay. The cabin has an aroma of cinnamon and is tastefully decorated with plush furniture and expensive appliances. The cinnamon is most likely to mask the smell of homicide.
“I suppose, Marchetti.” He scratches his neck. “Or I guess it’sLombardinow. Welcome to the family, new cousin.”
“Cousin? You’re Antonio’scousin?”
“Yeah.” He tugs on the collar of his black V-neck.
I blink, searching for any similarities between them. He has the signature dark Lombardi hair, but his face is squarer and more boyish.
“Is Sonny your dad?” I take a sip of orange juice.
“Fuck no, thank God. My mother was Uncle Vincent’s sister.”
“Was?”
“She died when I was twelve.”
I soften my voice. “I’m sorry. I hate that part of this life.”
“It was breast cancer. Unfortunately, I can’t get revenge against that.”
“Either way, I’m sorry, Leo.”
