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It’s our first day on the job, and I give Misha a nervous look.
We’ve been assigned to Rodin, a low-level boss, and we have no idea what’s in store for us. We only know not to disappoint Papa.
“If Vincent could do it, so can we,” I whisper.
Misha nods. “At least we’re together.”
We’re standing outside a warehouse where we were told to meet Rodin, and as he and ten of his men climb out of SUVs, I straighten my spine.
These are the men we’ll have to impress if we want to work our way up to boss level.
When Rodin pulls a bat out of the SUV, my muscles tighten.
Blood in, blood out.
Chapter 8
Everleigh
I’m sitting next to Alek, who still hasn’t come to. They just dropped him on the floor and locked us in the room again.
My nerves are frayed, and I don’t know how much more I can take.
Alek went along with my lie, and because of it, they beat the crap out of him. I feel horrible for putting him in this position, but in all fairness, I’m here because he kidnapped me.
It’s hard to think of Alek as my kidnapper. Especially when we’re being held captive by worse people.
My eyes move over all his injuries, the slash on his left forearm, the stab wound in his right hand, and all the blood on his face. It looks like his nose is broken.
I wish I could clean him up.
My gaze darts to the door, and I’m torn in two. What if I ask for a first aid kit, and they torture us some more?
What would Alek do?
He’d give them attitude.
Climbing to my feet, I suck in a deep breath of air and walk to the door. My insides begin to tremble with fear, but knowing I won’t last long if Alek gets sick and dies, I slam my left hand against the door. “Hey! Open the door.”
When I hear footsteps, I quickly step back and pray to God I’m not making a huge mistake.
Dario shoves the door open. “What the fuck do you want?”
It takes more strength than I have to say, “A first aid kit so I can take care of my boyfriend.” While I’m being brave, I add, “And some food. We haven’t eaten in a day.”
His eyebrow lifts, then he sneers, “Anything else,principessa.”
Nervously, I gulp. “No.”
The door is yanked shut and locked again. Feeling a hollow sense of hopelessness, I walk back to Alek and sit down beside him. I’m wearing a leather jacket and a silk blouse. Neither can be used to clean Alek’s wounds.
I eye his shirt for a moment and almost jump out of my skin when the door suddenly swings open. A toiletry bag is thrown at me before the door is locked again.
I scramble closer and unzipping the bag, a smile spreads over my face when I see the antiseptic lotion and bandages.
At least it’s something.
Not wanting to waste the meager supplies we have, I can’t clean Alek’s wounds and instead just smear the antiseptic lotion over the drying blood before I bandage his forearm and right hand as best I can.
