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“We will watch them until you return.”
His words give me an odd sense of courage, like I’ll be back sooner than later.
“I’d like my ID back, please.”
He hands it to me, and I tuck it into my wallet before turning to the man.
“I’m ready.”
8
Dove
I’m led outside to a waiting car. The man holds an umbrella over my head, so I don’t get wet, but that doesn’t stop me from shivering. The streets are empty as I climb inside. The leather seats are heated, but I’m still cold. When the car pulls away from the hotel, I whimper. I can’t see anything through the tinted windows. The man driving meets my gaze in the mirror before glancing away. Does he know that Di Bello has bought me? Would he help me if I asked?
I’m about to open my mouth when the partition lifts, cutting us off. Now I feel more alone than before. Not only that, but I’m now sitting in complete darkness, which leaves me with my thoughts. Where are we going? Are Chip and Belle okay? What’s going to happen to them if my father was telling the truth? Will they be sent back to him? Hot tears fill my eyes. I won’t cry. If I do, then I might not stop, and I need to keep my wits about me. That doesn’t stop the bile from creeping up my throat. I haven’t eaten all day, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to vomit right now. Wonder what Di Bello would do if I barfed all over his nice car? A nervous laugh escapes.
I’m not sure how long we drive. Could be a few moments, but I think it’s longer. By the time the car comes to a stop, my entire body is trembling. My door opens and I find another man standing there holding an umbrella.
“Where am I?”
I hate that my voice cracks.
He doesn’t answer and nods his head toward the imposing mansion.
“I’m not going in there.”
He gives my shoulder a little shove, knocking me forward. When I glace back at him, he has a stubborn set to his jaw. If I don’t walk on my own, he’s going to make me. So, I walk. My mind is going a million miles an hour as I climb the steps to the house. It’s hard to believe we’re still in Chicago. This house and the ground it sits on remind me of something right out of France.
I reach the door and stop. Do I just go in or…?
There’s another shove to my back.
“Jeez. I get it. I’m going in. You don’t have to keep shoving me,” I say as I push open the door.
It creaks, like every horror movie I’ve ever seen, and I want to run. But the goon behind me is close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his body. Good. Maybe he’ll die first. Slowly, I move into the foyer. It’s massive, as if someone wants to show off their wealth. Black marble floors, black walls, iron railings on the stairs that lead upward toward darkness. There’re two doors on each side of the stairway. I feel that either option leads to certain death.
The man grunts, nodding toward one door.
“Are you coming with me?”
He shakes his head. Well, crap. Inhaling, I move toward the door. Entering, I find myself in an enormous library that spans two stories. Holy heck. Moving inward, I try to take in everything around me. There have to be millions of books! The scent of leather and cigar smoke lingers in the air, making me think that I’m not alone. I should be scared, but I’m drawn to the stained-glass window. It’s gruesome, but somehow beautiful at the same time. A beast runs through a field as an arrow pierces its side. Blood sprays, represented with red glass that catches the light outside.
“My grandfather loved that piece. Had it drawn up after a dream he had.”
Turning, I try to find the source of the voice. Footsteps move above me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand as the steps echo down the stairs.
“Why am I here?” I call out. “I’m pretty sure kidnapping is illegal.”
He chuckles, and I know he’s close. “It’s only kidnapping if someone reports you as missing.”
Fear creeps up my throat, making it hard to breathe. I mean, he’s not wrong.
“Why am I here?” I ask again.
A man steps from the shadows, and my hand goes over my mouth. He’s taller than me and wears all black. But what has me taking a step back is the mask he wears over his face. All I can see are dark eyes and his lips, which are lifting, as if he’s smiling. But that mask… I’d know it anywhere. Hell,everyonein Chicago knows who the mask belongs to and what it means.
“You know who I am?”
