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“We’ve got to go,” Geo says.
“No, wait,” Ginny pleads, grabbing his arm. “Let me go say good-bye.”
“You should have already said your good-byes,” I say, meeting Geo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Go.”
Ginny screams again as we pull off, and I turn in time to see Antonio and Paul running toward the two fallen men.
I shut my eyes after that and let the swaying of the car wash the night away. I empty my mind.
I’m a shell of a man as Geo drives us home. Everything I thought I knew about Wryn and what was going on has been a lie. I can’t decide what the truth is.
Did she truly help Francesca out of the goodness of her heart or because she’s been in Viktor’s clutches this entire time? Did she do what she did to protect us or only herself, not caring if I was taken down in the cross fire?
I’m not sure I’ll ever know.
18
WRYN
The blindfold is hurting my eyes, or maybe it’s because I’m wiggling my eyebrows, trying to get it to move, making it bite into my sockets. My wrists ache where they are bound. A grimy hand covers my mouth, and I bite it.
“You fucking bitch,” the guy says, slapping me.
Viktor barks something at the man in Italian. I don’t know what he said, but the guy stops touching me. I hear a car door open, and then I’m roughly lifted into the backseat. I shiver as cold air blows from a vent straight onto my barely covered skin. My beautiful dress is ripped to shreds, and I look like a washed-up doll. Dressed to kill, but instead, I’m going to be killed.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, not knowing if anyone is inside the vehicle with me.
“Shut up,” the man growls beside me, making me jump.
I clamp my lips together, too afraid to push my luck. I don’t have luck anymore. Viktor effectively severed any ties left between me and Connor. He won’t be coming after me. I’ll be saving myself this time. Doors in the front open, and the car rocks as bodies climb inside, then stills as they close them.
I hear Viktor’s voice, so I know he’s in here with me, but he’s still speaking Italian.
“Were you leading me on?” I ask, but no one answers. “Is Ruby dead? Do you actually have any information about her?” I want to lash out and kick the back of the seat in front of me, I want to strangle Viktor, I want to do damage to something, but I rein it in. I sit calmly, and I will my voice not to shake. “Was Connor right? Did she die?”
“My dear Wryn, does it really matter anymore?” Viktor asks with a long-suffering sigh, as if he were answering a toddler who had asked one too many questions.
“Yes, it matters. She was my sister, my best friend. She’s who I was living for. I held on to hope.”
“Hope,” Viktor says, and if I could see him, I imagine he would be mulling the word over, contemplating the actual definition of it.
Does a man like him have hope?
“Hope is a fairy tale, reserved for those who can afford it. You must make your own way in the world, not sit around, hoping it will turn out all right in the end.”
“Ruby’s hope was taken from her—”
“Ruby was a damn fool,” Viktor says. His voice sounds closer, like he’s turned around to talk to me. “She got herself mixed up in business that she had no idea about. She was a casualty in a war that’s been going on for a while now. Sometimes, even the innocents aren’t saved. Most of the time, it’s the innocents who die first. It’s commendable how you wanted to help her, save her. But, dear Wryn, it looks like you can’t even save yourself.” The last word has a bite to it, one I’ve never heard in Viktor’s voice.
He’s usually so put together, in control of himself as he speaks. He wields his words as weapons, his tone as the force behind his weapon, but maybe I got to him a little bit. Maybe he’s not as impenetrable as he wants to think he is.
I know I should be more scared than I am. Not to say I’m not scared, but with Ruby gone and Connor no doubt having written me off, what do I have to live for anymore? Beyond saving myself.
I don’t respond to him. I think he wants me to beg for my life. But either we will get to a new location where I’ll be his prisoner or he’s taking me somewhere to kill me. I need to think before I make any rash decisions. As far as I know, it’s me and Viktor, the guy beside me, and someone—presumably male—driving the vehicle we are in. Not great odds for me.
Panic rises in my chest, wanting to overtake me. I try not to let it. It’s making my hands shake, and added to the fact that I can’t see anything, the panic is turning into real fear.
Calm down, Wryn. Think.
