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My eyes flit wildly between all of the men because I know what’s coming. There’s no way Vincent will choose Alek. I’m a stranger to him.
Vincent locks eyes with Alek, and as the seconds crawl by, my heart beats out of my chest.
“The girl,” he mutters.
No. Oh, God. No!
“That was an easy choice,” Riccardo chuckles. “I’m surprised, though. If she’s dating your brother, he’s going to be pissed off withyoutorturing his girl.”
Vincent doesn’t know about the lie!
Vincent’s eyes flick between Alek and me, but he doesn’t say anything.
Riccardo takes a seat again, then snaps, “You heard me, Vincent. Torture the girl.”
Vincent’s hands fist at his side, and when he steps toward me, I take one backward.
There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll kill me to save Alek.
The man, who I now know is Dario, points his gun at Alek.
“You have three seconds before Dario kills Alek,” Riccardo mutters as if he’s bored with us.
My eyes are still wildly flitting around when Vincent darts forward. His fist connects with my cheek, and as agonizing pain radiates through my entire skull, I go down like a sack of potatoes.
Instinctively, I curl into a fetal position and cover my head with my arms.
“I didn’t say beat. I said torture,” Riccardo snaps.
I don’t even have the courage to peek around me and keep my eyes squeezed shut.
The next moment Vincent grabs my right hand and pries my fist open. My eyes fly open, and horrified I watch as he brings a set of pliers closer to my hand.
“NoNoNoNo!” I scream, and when I try to push him away from me with my left hand, he uses his body to block me, grips my pinky finger, and rips the nail off.
Between my wails of pain, I hear Riccardo sneer, “I thought you were in a relationship with the girl.”
There’s no emotion in Alek’s voice as he replies, “Would it help if I lost my shit?” I hear him let out a sigh. “It won’t stop you from torturing her.”
“Take the girl and Vincent back to their rooms,” Riccardo shouts.
Is it over?
I’m yanked to my feet and shoved toward the doorway. I only get a glimpse of Alek, who’s staring at Riccardo, unfeeling as ever.
I cradle my right hand against my shirt, my blood seeping into the fabric.
Vincent is locked in the room opposite ours before I’m shoved into the four walls that have become my prison.
I hurry to the corner where I sit down, and pressing my face into my knees, I try to process what just happened.
The pain burns all the way from my pinky up to my wrist as if the digit has been set on fire. There’s a throbbing ache in my jaw, and my chaotic emotions threaten to make me lose my sanity.
I had a perfect life before my parents died.
How did it come to this? Me, an orphan who’s going to be tortured and killed by criminals.
What did I do to deserve this?
