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The door to the front office is locked, and even cupping my hands over my face to peer in and banging on the door doesn’t bring anyone forward.
Elio left me mostly big bills and one single dollar folded up in the middle. I’m pretty sure it was all the cash he had on him at the time, but the machine doesn’t take twenties and it sure as hell doesn’t take hundred-dollar bills.
“All this money, and I still can’t fucking eat,” I grumble as I turn the corner to head back to the room.
“Such a filthy mouth,” a man says, stepping into my path.
“Excuse me,” I tell him, dropping my eyes and attempting to step around him.
He doesn’t say a word as I pass, but he grabs me the second my back is to him.
I scream and fight, but his hand covers my mouth. It’s broad fucking daylight, and this guy has the balls to just sweep me up?
“The boss said not to hurt you, but if you keep wiggling, I’m going to break the fucking rules,” he growls in my ear.
I’m not being mugged for the money in my pocket. I’m not being attacked by chance because men are just pieces of shit. This is Alessio’s goon. I was foolish to think that I’d managed to escape them, that being in a room paid for by my brother would somehow keep me safe.
It’s like being abducted in Mexico all over again. No one pays attention. A man walking out of his room turned right back around and closed the door. People are too fucking coward to even call the fucking police.
I scream and kick, knowing that I’m being taken back to a monster instead of just considering it a possibility.
A second pair of hands grab at me, the four on me now making it easy for them to subdue me. My arms are tied behind my back, a rag shoved in my mouth before something is tied around it to prevent me from spitting it out, and then darkness. I know they’re taking me to Alessio so the bag over the head is a little too fucking much.
I cuss into the gag, my time for acting docile and pleasant long gone at this point.
Tears leak from my eyes when I jerk and jolt so much I scrape my shoulder on something sharp. I found sweats and a t-shirt in one of the motel drawers after Elio left, but they’re not providing the protection I need.
What I need is use of both of my arms and a couple of bazookas for these assholes, but that will never happen.
I’m once again a captive. Once again a fucking victim. I know it will be my last time. I know I won’t survive this again. Alessio would never allow it.
I calm down, not exactly accepting my fate, but unable to do anything about it at this moment in time.
I register the sound of an engine starting, the roar loud from my position on the floor of the van.
The men inside don’t speak. They could easily contact Alessio through text, but I don’t hear either of them place a phone call. They drive for what seems like hours, but time really is irrelevant.
The sound of a small plane, something familiar to me with all the times I’ve been required to travel with Alessio and Marcello, fills the inside of the van. The doors squeal as they’re pulled open, and rough hands grab at me.
I don’t fight this time. It would serve no other purpose than to cause more injury to myself, and I know I have a lifetime of it coming.
I’m jostled repeatedly as the man carries me over his shoulder onto the plane. No one argues or asks why a gagged, bound, and blindfolded woman is being brought on board. The pilots will just as easily kill for the Severino family as the goon carrying me will.
Surprisingly, I’m sat down a little more gently, the seat belt pulled around my waist and snapped into place. Safety first and all that, I suppose. I scoff into my gag, but get no response from anyone around me.
The plane eventually takes off, and I’m subjected to listening to whatever goon is on the plane with me getting sucked off by the stewardess. It’s probably Trixie. It doesn’t seem like she’ll survive if she doesn’t have a dick in her mouth. Countless times I’ve seen her eyeball both Marcello and Alessio. They were always happy to oblige her.
I know we’re heading back to Chicago, and not for the first time, I pray for turbulence strong enough to make us drop out of the sky.
We don’t, of course. The landing is as smooth as ever.
Lucky fucking me.
“I pray he gives us all a turn with you, whore,” a man growls as he lifts me from the seat of the plane.
