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“And you know nothing about the Syndicate?”
She denied it.
“Lorenzo Maroni has a weakness outside that you know about?”
Why were they asking her these absurd questions?
“Dante Maroni have anyone in his life outside?” the man asked, leaning closer to her. “Someone we can use against him?”
His brother.
Amara shook her head no, silent, trembling all over, panic, real panic setting in as the man brought the rope closer.
He smiled. “This will be fun.”
And so began the screams.
They had the wrong girl. It didn’t make sense. She was nobody.
Minutes blurred.
Heartbeats blurred.
Questions blurred.
Was it day? Was it night?
Everything blurred but the burn.
Her hands. Her back. Her feet. Everything burned.
And she screamed.
“What do you know about the syndicate?”
Breathe.
“Does Dante Maroni have anyone that can be used against him?”
Focus.
“Is there a shipment you know anything about?”
Live.
“When do the guards take their patrol break at night?”
Survive.
“Should we tell Maroni his little girlfriend is here?”
Scream.
Focus. Breathe. Live. Survive. Scream.
Breathe. Live. Survive. Scream.
Live. Survive. Scream.
