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I yawn widely. My eyes feel heavy. After all that time in captivity without enough food and with all those drugs in my system, I don't have the stamina I used to.

“Rest,” Torin says. “I have a lot of work to do. I'll wake you up in time to get ready.”

I don't need him to tell me twice. It's warm in here. I roll over onto my side, reaching for the blanket, but I'm already half asleep. I hear him moving wordlessly, and then a warm, thick blanket drapes over me. I don't open my eyes. I'm too tired.

“You know, I used to run,” I say to him, half between la-la land and reality. “I used to love to run. I used to run down by the waterfront in New York. I was damn good at it. Used to win races and such.” My voice trails off into a yawn.

“There’s a gym downstairs.”

“Would that be safe?”

“With me watching over you, anything's safe,” he answers.

I believe him.

Drifting off to sleep, I wonder—who is this man who stole me from the auction, and what are his plans for me?

“Torin,” I say into the dim space between awake and asleep.

“Aye, lass,” he answers in a low voice.

“What's your plan for me?”

“You know my plan for you.”

“No. I mean after.” I yawn. It takes so much effort to talk. “After we bring down Boston. Then what?”

“After we verify that your father is not guilty. After we verify that your brothers have nothing to do with Boston, and we bring down every single motherfucker in that organization and punish them for what they did to you and to me…” He pauses before he finishes. “Then I’ll send you home.”

I don’t answer because I don’t want to think about how that makes me feel. Maybe I don’t want to go home. The Valentina who goes home won’t be the same one who left.

I dream of falling into the waterfront, sinking below the surface, trying to break free.

I wake to Torin shaking my shoulder, standing over me. My eyes fly open. Outside the window, dusk has fallen. I sit up. “What time is it? You said you'd give me enough time to get ready.”

“We have to leave in about thirty minutes. Do you need more time than that?”

Well, if that isn’t exactly something a man would say.

I sit up, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I didn't mean to sleep that long.”

“It's alright,” he says.

The sleep was brief and deep, and I've learned to do this since the holding room. You learn to sleep when it's there. Your body doesn't ask permission.

The smell of good food hits me before I'm fully awake. My belly churns. This time, it’s a welcome feeling. I want to be hungry. I want to get stronger.

“You should have woken me,” I tell him grumpily.

“You needed to sleep.”

“I don't have time to eat and get ready! It’s one or the other. You said we're leaving in thirty minutes?”

He looks at his phone. “Twenty-eight.”

“Maybe I wanted to shower. Maybe I wanted to spend some time on my makeup. Maybe I wanted to do something with my hair. I've never put a wig on before. What if it doesn't work?”

Seriously. Men.