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Will he come for me? Will he be able to find me?
I don’t know if that ancient flip phone is traceable, and even if it is, I think we’d have to be on a call for him to trace it. But maybe that’s not our only shot. He’s law enforcement, and though I may be biased, one of the best I know. He takes his job more seriously than anyone else on his force, all the way down to paperwork and parking tickets. I know he’ll do everything in his power to find me, no matter what it takes.
I spin our hurried conversation over and over in my mind, refusing to let myself focus on what happened immediately afterward. I needed to keep Lucas from searching the bathroom again, and I have to hope Brian will understand. That he’ll forgive me for doing what I had to do to stay alive. To find my way back to him.
Is that the only reason you did it? A little voice whispers in the back of my mind, and I swallow down the painful lump in my throat, refusing to answer.
I doze for a while, exhaustion and stress making it hard to keep my eyes open.
But when the lock turns, the small sound brings me fully awake instantly, my body bracing for whatever may come.
The door opens, and Zaid steps into the room. His gaze runs over me quickly before he crosses to the side of the bed and leans over to tug on the ties at my wrists.
“Are we going somewhere?” I ask, confused. I thought Chicago was our final destination, but maybe I was wrong.
“You’re having dinner with us.” He makes quick work of the ropes, and my arms drop to my sides as he frees my wrists. “Lucas sent me.”
“Oh.”
I had feelings for you once. The words echo in my mind again.
I’ve never had dinner with the men before—one of them usually brings me a plate of something to the room and waits for me to finish eating before taking it away again. I’ve never been allowed to leave the room after I’ve been tied up.
Something has changed, and I wonder if it has anything to do with Lucas’s confession.
Sitting up, I rub my wrists, trying to bring circulation back into them. Next time I’m tied up I’ll have to hint to them not to put my arms so high up, although I already know they won’t listen. They’ll probably think it’s some trick I know to slip my binds, but that’s not true.
“Will Hale be pissed?” I ask. For some reason, I get the sense they haven’t told him about my invitation to dinner.
“Hale’s always pissed,” Zaid mutters, gesturing toward the door. “Come on.”
I follow him out of the room and down the same hall Lucas took me down earlier, taking a second to look at my surroundings.
Everything here screams wealth, but in an understated way. It’s more nicely decorated than I would’ve expected from four bachelors—especially ones who are soldiers and leaders in a mafia syndicate. I wouldn’t have thought they’d have the time to make their place look so nice.
But then again, image matters in the mafia. The projection of strength and power, always.
I try not to gawk as he leads me down the staircase and through a few more rooms, clearly familiar with the layout. He definitely lives here, and I’m almost positive the other three do too.
We pass through a sleek kitchen, then step into a large dining room. Lucas, Ciro, and Hale sit around a table in the center of the room, plates of food in front of them. The aroma of whatever it is they’re eating fills my senses, and my mouth waters. I didn’t realize until just now how hungry I am.
Conversation stops as three pairs of eyes turn to us, three different expressions on each of the men’s faces.
“Who said you could bring her down here?” Hale frowns, fork paused halfway to his mouth.
The way he says her makes me wonder if he thinks he can reduce me to nothing by refusing to acknowledge I have a name, or even that I’m in the same room as him.
I want to hurl some insult back at him, but I press my lips together, deciding not to push my
luck. I’m tired of eating on a bed, chewing each bite as long as possible so I don’t have to be tied up again so soon. I just want to feel human for a few minutes, to eat at a fucking table like a regular person.
“I did.” Zaid covers, glancing at his brother.
Hale arches a brow slightly, but doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t welcome me to sit down or demand that Zaid take me back upstairs. He just goes back to his dinner, which I guess is the best outcome I could’ve hoped for.
Zaid pulls out a chair for me between him and Lucas, then walks into the kitchen for a second and comes back with an extra plate and silverware. He sets it down in front of me before taking his own seat at my side, grabbing one of the dishes and piling his plate high.
“Feel free to take what you want.” He offers me a bowl of roasted potatoes, which I take.
