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“Don’t hurt him, and I’ll do whatever you want,” I say fiercely.
The man still has the gun pointed at me, thankfully, and not Kit. He’s wearing a dark ski mask and all-black clothes, so I can’t make out who he is.
“You’ll do what I say because I have a gun pointed at your head, Princess.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not a princess, and I’m not afraid of you.”
“You’re mafia royalty, so your father will pay handsomely for your return.”
I narrow my eyes in confusion. I don’t know who this man is yet, but the fact he’s considering using me for ransom tells me a few things. He must not be the one that keeps trying to kill every member of my family if he’s only interested in cash.
“Turn around,” he barks at me.
I do, taking a deep breath as the man grabs my arms and jerks them behind my body. He quickly ties them together with rough rope that scratches and digs into my skin.
Kit finally blinks as he sees what’s happening.
“Go,” I mouth at him.
He just stares at me in disbelief—either at the situation, how calm I am, or both.
“Go, now,” I mouth more insistently.
A flash of lighting lights up the sky, and then a burst of thunder claps a second later. The sound must knock Kit out of his stupor because he finally puts his foot on the gas, and his Corvette takes off.
“Hey!” the man tying the rope shouts at him. But before the man can grab his gun, Kit is far enough away to avoid being shot.
I smile and blow out a breath.Kit’s safe; that’s all that matters.
The man finishes tightening the ropes on me as rain pours down my face harder now, making it hard to see more than a foot in front of my eyes. I’m surprisingly calm for being kidnapped.
This isn’t the first time it’s happened to me, and I’ve always survived. From the sound of it, I’ll survive this time too. But that doesn’t mean I won’t end up hurt, raped, or violated.
The man jerks on my arms, pulling me backward. “Get in the van.”
I feel the cold metal of the gun on the side of my head again.
I blink, trying to make out where said van is, but there’s water in my eyes, and I can’t see anything.
He yanks my arms hard and then shoves me from behind.
I stumble, my shins hitting the bottom of the van. I fall forward face first, landing hard on thinly carpeted floor hard inside the van.
I sigh as I hear the side door roll shut behind me, and the man gets into the front seat.
I should try to escape, try to break out of the rope, or come up with an escape plan at least. But I know it’s useless. I have plenty of skills, but breaking out of rope bindings, escaping, fighting, using a gun—these aren’t them.
I much prefer drawing, painting, sculpting—anything artistic. But right now, I’m regretting my decision not to learn basic self-defense. I’m a mafia princess. I’m not supposed to know self-defense. I’m supposed to look pretty and produce male heirs to carry on the Corsi line. It would be inappropriate for me to know how to defend myself and look poorly on Lennox if he wasn’t able to do it himself.
This world is so stupid and sexist, but I also know it’s deeper than that.
Vincent loves me. He loved me so much that he sent me away for my entire childhood to protect me. He never thought I was strong enough. He never thought I could learn to protect myself—that’s the real reason I never learned. He’s bucked enough mafia traditions; he would have no problem breaking this one too.
I’m the weak one. River was always the strong one. I’m the carefree one, as proven by how calm my heart rate currently is. I could die tonight, but if you took my blood pressure right now, you’d never know it. I guess that’s my superpower: when the man who is after me finally catches me, and that gun or knife is aimed at my head, and I know the real end is near, I won’t be afraid. My heart won’t race. I’ll die without fear.
I shake my head against the floorboard. It’s not a very helpful strength to have because it won’t save me. I’ll still be dead.
The van roars and turns through the city streets while I contemplate my entire life.
