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I haven’t given much thought to what happened here after Elijah got me out, too wrapped up in feelings of guilt and inadequacy, but seeing it now makes my heart ache painfully in my chest.
“Are you okay?” Wynter asks quietly. “Your head is bleeding and I think you’ve pulled your stitches.”
I follow her gaze down my body to where crimson red seeps through the fabric of my gray sweater. “I think I’m okay. Are you? How’s the baby?”
Wynter lets out a breath and winces as it jostles her bleeding wrists. “I’m okay. The impact of the crash was minimal, and they didn’t drug me. They just put a bag over my head, so I couldn’t see where we were going.”
“The baby?” I ask, my eyes falling to her rounding stomach.
“She’s fine. She’s kicking away in there.” She squeezes her eyes shut to stamp down the emotions rising to the surface. Her maternal instincts are kicking in, even if the baby is still months from being born.
“I meant what I said, Wyn. If you get the chance to run, do it. Don’t worry about me, just worry about getting the two of you to safety.”
“I’m not going to leave you, Snow,” she whispers.
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do. If you get the chance, run. Don’t look back. Just get yourself and my niece the hell out of here.”
Tears slide down her cheeks despite her best efforts to hold them at bay.
I tear my eyes away from her before her gentle sobs can beckon my own and take another look at the debris around us. The doors and low windows are boarded up, meaning none of them are the escape route we need. There has to be an entry point though, because how else would they have brought us in?
Before I can figure it out myself, the sound of a door opening behind me has a cold sweat gathering at my brow. Being alone in a creepy, derelict church where I married Elijah was one thing, but facing the unknown enemy who has been meticulously destroying our lives is something else entirely.
The sound of heels clicking against charred concrete echoes through the church, and I watch as confusion tugs at Wynter’s expression. It’s a woman? The person who has been stealing our shipments, and taking out Elijah’s dealers, and who orchestrated the attack on my wedding day, is a woman?
“Ladies,” she greets as she comes into my line of sight. Holy shit. She’s stunning. The woman has long, deep brown hair that curls down her back. Her lithe body is adorned with an expensive-looking red pantsuit, but it’s her eyes that draw me to them. There’s something almost familiar about this woman, but I can’t quite put my finger on exactly what it is. “It’s so nice of you to wake up.”
“Apologies. It’s really quite rude of me to pass out with a head injury. I’ll try to remember that in the future.” I can’t hold back the snark in my tone. What harm is it going to do at this point? And the more attention she gives me, the less she will focus on Wynter.
I’m met with a deep blue glare, but I can’t bring myself to regret my words. Whoever this bitch is, she’s expecting a pair of spoiled Mafia princesses, and that’s not who Wynter and I are. Not anymore at least. Perhaps that’s who we were before our parents died, but we’ve both grown into women they would be proud of and ones who shouldn’t be underestimated.
She tears her attention from me and turns it to Wynter, taking steps toward her and giving me a chance to observe her closer. The outfit she’s wearing is obscenely expensive, right down to her Louboutin pumps, which means she has plenty of disposable income, especially when she decided to wear it to a decrepit, burned church where she has hostages hanging from rickety beams.
If I were an evil mastermind, I’d be doing it in a more modest outfit, and flat shoes.
“Your sister has always had a smart mouth, hasn’t she?” The stranger approaches Wynter before placing her open palm on her growing belly. “The miracle of pregnancy,” she murmurs.
I tug at my restraints, hissing through the agony in my wrists until the wood above me creaks from the pressure I’m putting it under.
She turns back to me with annoyance. “You’re wasting your time. Even if you manage to get free, the building is surrounded. There’s no escape for either of you,” she pauses before eyeing Wynter’s stomach again. “Or all three of you, I suppose.”
“Who are you?” Wynter asks, her voice calm and even. The mask she wears for the world has slid into place, and she looks as composed as she does in the boardroom making million-dollar deals.
Our captor laughs, her head dropping back and her dark hair swaying from side to side. “I thought you were smarter than that, Wynter. I thought if anyone could work it out, it would be you.”
“What are you…” She trails off as she stares at the woman closer, the slightest hint of recognition flickering in her eyes.
She huffs out a bored sigh and steps toward the only seat in the building before lowering herself to the clean metal fold-up chair. “I don’t really have all day for one of you to work it out, so let me tell you a little story.” She crosses one leg over the other and places both hands on her knee, settling in for whatever tale she thinks we give a fuck about. “Once upon a time, there were two crime families who ruled Chicago. The Russo family and the Masters family. As a way to unite the two families and bring unity to the underworld, the Russo’s married their baby sister off to the head of the Masters’ organization, and the two of them had a son, Everett. But before that, before the Russo’s concocted the plan to sell off their sister for the good of their organization, Daniel Masters had a woman on the side that no one knew about. She was young and beautiful, but she wasn’t what was best for the family, so he shipped her and their daughter off on the same day he married his new wife.”
A small gasp leaves my lips as the pieces fall together. She isn’t saying what I think she’s saying… is she?
“You’re lying,” Wynter whispers, the words barely audible despite the deathly quiet surrounding us.
“You’re more naive than I thought if you think that.” She scoffs but doesn’t bother to stand from her seat.
I’m surprised her security team has allowed her in here with no protection, but then again, we’re not exactly a threat right now, strung up and powerless.
“In case you couldn’t put those pieces together, Snow, my name is Annalise Masters, and I’m Everett’s sister.”
