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“Untie her from the chair. We need to get rid of her.”
His goons do as they are told and untie my hands and legs. I clench my fists and shake my arms out to get the blood pumping again. One of the assholes grabs me and yanks me from the chair, but my legs are still a bit numb, so I stumble.
“Clumsy bitch,” Mancini sneers as he catches me.
“We can’t move her yet, boss. There’s still a crowd in the club. Somebody will see her, and we don’t want to take that chance.” The hazel eyed guy says, and I think he might’ve just saved my life.
“Right. We’ll move her in a few hours.”
I wish I could feel some kind of relief, but I don’t. A few hours might be all I have to live, and I have wasted so much time.
God, if you hear me… I promise not to waste any more time in my life. If you just let me live.
