Page 17 of His Puppet

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” he mutters, his words barely audible with his back turned.

Victor leaves, the door slamming behind him, and I face Lorenzo and Settimo.

Settimo chuckles. “What the hell was that?” he asks.

“I don’t like the guy.” I look at Lorenzo. “No disrespect.”

Lorenzo lifts a shoulder. “Most don’t.”

“Okay, can we move on from this now?” Settimo asks. “I think we can all agree that there are more pressing issues than the street urchin.”

There are. And we spend the next half hour discussing them. I do my best to pay attention and offer all the necessary feedback, but the girl keeps pushing her way to the forefront of my mind.

What the hell am I going to do with her?

7

Emily

My feet kick up dirt as I pace the tiny prison. A layer of dust coats me, and it’s packed between my toes. I can feel the calluses forming on my soles, and I stop and sit on the cot before my feet can get any more sore. I need them to be in the best shape possible when Blade, or whoever, comes down here.

When Victor threw me in the car last night, he took my shoes. In hindsight, that was a good idea on his part. I’m probably not the first person he’s kidnapped. I wish I would’ve tried harder to fight him or somehow get them back because they would really come in handy right about now.

I’m gonna run. I thought about it all night, not sleeping a wink, and it’s the only option that seems bearable to me. Last night, I was afraid of death. Today, I’m afraid of worse.

I’m not going to be their whore. Maybe if I was a naive girl who grew up in a nice home with a nice warm bed and woke up to the smell of bacon, I would be able to convince myself it’s the only option. But I’ve lived on the dark side of the world long enough to know what my future would look like.

Those drugs I stole? Well, the mafia would be generous with them now. They’d shoot me up and get me addicted until I was desperate enough to suck cock just for another fix. They’d own the drugs, and therefore, own me. My life would be an endless cycle of numbness, followed by desperation. I’ve watched addicts detox. I’m not interested in scratching my arms raw and convulsing on a cum-stained bed.

No. My fear is no longer fear, it’s more like determination. Iknowhow to escape and how to disappear. I’ve done it before, and these prison bars aren’t even as sturdy as the last.

What’s more, I have skills this time. I’m not a fourteen-year-old girl shivering on a park bench wondering where the hell I’m supposed to go or how I’m supposed to live. I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman who’s escaped from a monster even more powerful than the mafia. I’ve changed my name, learned to provide for myself in any given situation, and most importantly, I’ve learned how to survive.

I’m a survivor.

I swallow and close my eyes, repeating the line over and over again in my head. I sort through all the possibilities of what might be waiting on the other side of the metal door when I get out, and I picture what this place looks like.

I’ll be in a barn. Blade didn’t unlock a door to get in here, so that shouldn’t be an issue. There are men above me, which, along with the temperature change, is how I know it’s a new day. I can hear their distant conversations and an occasional bang and yell.

The metal door is locked by a chain, and I spent what felt like hours with it open the centimeter of space the chain’s slack allowed. I wasn’t able to see anything except the barn’s roof, but I tried to count the voices. It didn’t work. All I know is that there are multiple. Once I get a hold of a gun, it shouldn’t matter. I’ll have the element of surprise when I burst through the door.

But then there’s the chain.

And the inevitable guards on the property.

Andtheirguns.

I let out a shaky breath and open my eyes. I’ve been over the scenarios dozens of times already.

I spend some time digging dirt from my fingernails, trying to busy myself, until the sensitive skin becomes raw.

Then I hear something.

I perk up and dart my eyes toward the stairs. There’s a grating sound of metal on metal. Someone is unlocking the chain.

I bolt to my feet but think better of it and sit down.

Look vulnerable.

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