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All of the women side-eye one another, and I want to die.
I can tell by their reactions it’s an unorthodox request.
Fuck.
“Now.”
Chapter 11
Alessia
I follow Leandro up the steps of my prison, giving the girls one last glance before they disappear from sight. The warmth of that beautiful palace sucks away once it’s just him and I approaching the cement door. The thud of each boot carries so much weight. In my mind, I picture him dragging a heavy two-handed axe to justify it.
What’s in the duffel bag he’s holding, and why did he pick me to come with him?
Nerves bounce around my belly with every dark thought, but I calm myself, knowing that if he wanted me dead, he would’ve killed me already… right?
I hold my nose once the stench of mildew sneaks up my nostrils. We walk past the burnt shrine – which now consists of a few warped pictures that are barely recognizable. Mixed feelings plague me. On the one hand, I want to console him for his loss. This memorial must be worse than a defaced grave in his eyes. Much more. But on the other hand, I can’t stop thinking about what Gabby said just a few minutes before – ‘This is his playground. He built it just so.’
“Leandro?” I finally break the silence.
“What?” he growls.
“Where are we going?”
“You don’t want fresh air?” He opens the front door and glances over his shoulder. “There’s a whole forest of freedom to tempt you.”
There it is again. He wants me to try my luck in the wild.
“I’m not fucking running for your pleasure,” I snap.
He shrugs. “I know you’re not the type. You’re meek.”
“And you’re sick.” I follow him slowly to the car. “Can I go back to the other women now? I prefer it there.”
“No,” he says flatly, and nods to the passenger side door.
I exhale a shaky breath. He wouldn’t kill me. There’s no reason to.
One look at my quivering hand starts to shatter my resolve. I’m shaking like a leaf.
Leandro grabs his leather jacket from the back seat and slips into it. If killers had a modeling shoot, this would be it. Ink clawing up his neck, scar on his eyebrow, cold hazel eyes.
“Are you just going to stare? Get in,” he commands.
I hesitantly open the door and sit in the passenger’s seat. “What if someone sees us together and I decide to start screaming for help?”
He puts the car in reverse, rests one arm on my headrest, and eyes the back window, not even paying attention to me. “Then you would have aided in more death. They’d be clean kills, because, like you, they’re just casualties of circumstance.”
I shrink in my seat.
“It won’t be long, Maris—” he stops himself, but there’s no denying what he was about to say.
“That’s what this is about?” I say. “You seriously think I’m her?”
He clenches his jaw, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Look at me, Leandro!” I beg, grabbing at his arm.
