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I open my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, but then someone jabs a needle into the side of my neck. There’s a pinch of pain, and everything goes hazy until darkness falls over me again.
Whatever they gave me must be strong, because all I’m aware of for a long time after that is small snatches of things. I wake up every once in a while, looking blearily around me, but there’s nothing of note to linger on, and I can’t seem to stay awake. As soon as I wake up sometimes, the darkness comes for me again, dragging me back under. I don’t know if they’re drugging me every time, or if it’s some kind of delayed release of what they injected me with the first time, but I have no idea how much time has passed or where we even are.
I can tell we’re moving though. Sometimes it feels bumpy, like being in the back of a car, and other times it’s smooth, but there’s still that feeling of motion around me.
Someone holds my head up a couple of times, tipping water into my mouth that I have to work to swallow. I feel raw inside, and the water is a cold shock to my system. Sometimes there’s food, pieces of fruit and stale bread, and even though my brain screams through the haze that I don’t want anything from these people, I’m too out of it to resist.
When someone helps me to the bathroom, I go with them, letting them lead me there and back, almost like a puppet.
It’s like being trapped in my own head, knowing this is bad and wrong and terrible, but not having the energy or freedom to do anything about it. As soon as I think I should be fighting back or at least demanding to know where they’re taking me, I’m slipping back into the darkness again, completely out of it.
A whimper falls from my lips, and I feel tears sliding down my cheeks, even though I wasn’t aware of crying.
I’m lost inside my mind.
I’m lost from the men I love.
I’m just… lost.
* * *
Sometime later,I wake up again.
This time, I feel more alert than I have in a while. My head hurts, and it takes me a little while to process everything. I still feel groggy at first, my thoughts swimming around my mind like fog. Trying to latch on to anything specific is like trying to get a solid grip on something slippery and ephemeral.
But then my pulse speeds up as I’m hit by the memory of overwhelming fear.
Everything comes rushing back to me all over again, and I gasp softly, my eyes flying wide open and darting around. I’m in a nondescript room, but at least I’m alone. I’m lying on my side on a bed, and when I try to move to get up, I realize that my wrists and ankles are bound tightly, making it awkward to maneuver.
Something twists around my legs, making me feel stifled and claustrophobic, and when I look down at myself, I realize that I’m no longer wearing the sweaty, dirty clothes that I ran through the streets of Mexico in.
Instead, I’m wearing a long white dress, the thick fabric of the skirt tangled around my legs.
Oh my god. It’s a wedding dress.
My heart lurches in my chest, beating sluggishly and then picking up its pace to a wild gallop as I struggle to sit up.
The door opens, and my beleaguered heart jumps again, adrenaline shooting through me like a flood of ice water in my veins. Troy steps into the room, a few men dressed in dark suits following him. As they file into the room, I get a glimpse beyond the door for a second—enough to tell that we’re in a house of some kind, but not one that I recognize.
Troy strides toward me, flanked by the men who must be his bodyguards or hired muscle. He comes to a stop by the edge of the bed and looks down at me, smirking as his gaze roams over my bound body. This close, and with a clearer head, I can see that he’s favoring his left arm, holding it like it’s causing him pain. That must be because of the bullet Victor managed to lodge in his chest.
A vague memory filters into my mind, something I’m almost positive Troy said to me while I was drugged.
Should’ve told your pet criminal to aim better if you wanted me dead.
Goddammit. We didn’t have time to check Troy for a pulse back at the church, and the guys were so focused on getting me out that Vic didn’t even bother to shoot him again. But although the single bullet clearly did some damage, it wasn’t enough to kill him.
As if he can tell I’m staring, Troy relaxes his left arm a bit, like he doesn’t want to admit that Vic managed to hurt him at all. He cocks his head, his lascivious gaze running up and down my body again before settling on my face.
“I’m glad you’re finally awake,” he drawls. “I was worried you were going to sleep through our big day, and we wouldn’t want that. I want you to be awake for every single moment of this. After all, you only get married once.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, working again to try to sit up as the ropes chafe my wrists and ankles. “You son of a bitch! I willnevermarry you. I’d rather—”
He cuts me off by backhanding me across the face. Hard. My head whips to one side, my entire body jerking on the bed since I can’t steady myself with my hands. Pain explodes in my cheek, darkness swallowing my vision for a second before stars dance before my eyes.
The blow was so hard that it nearly knocked the wind out of my lungs, and my mouth falls open as I struggle to draw in a breath.
At least it took something out of him too. He winces when the force of the hit jars his bad arm, and he tucks it a little closer to his body.
