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The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted streets as I continue my frantic search.
The once bustling city now seems like a ghost town, each vacant building and alleyway taunting me with their silence.
My footsteps echo against the pavement, the only sound accompanying my racing heart.
The weight of hopelessness settles on my shoulders, threatening to crush me under its burden.
My mind races with every possible scenario – Rosalie hurt, alone, or worse.
"Please, God," I plead, pausing to lean against a graffiti-covered wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Help me."
And then I remember.
I had asked Tony to find out what he could about Rosalie Battaglia.
I now know who I need to go to.
Chapter 39
ROSALIE
Pulling my purse closer to my torso, I hesitantly slide into the backseat of the sleek black car.
The enforcers exchange glances before slamming their doors shut.
Two get in front, and one gets in right next to me, and the engine starts.
Their silence is unnerving, and it sets me on edge.
"Please," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "How's my mother?"
The enforcer in the passenger seat turns around, his dark eyes piercing mine.
"You'll find out soon enough, Rosalie."
A chill runs down my spine at how he says my name - it's been months since anyone called me that.
Emily Jackson was the identity I'd built for myself, far from the world of bloodshed and deceit that had defined my childhood.
And now, it seems that world has caught up with me once more.
"Tell me now," I demand, my voice cracking slightly.
The two enforcers share a sinister grin, as though they're in on some twisted secret.
"We're sorry to inform you that your dear mother is no longer with us," the driver says, his tone cold and emotionless.
My heart plummets, and tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision.
"But my mother sent you!" I screech. The pain in my chest is unbearable, and I can't help but let out a sob.
"You're lying! Where are you taking me?!"
"Settle down, Rosalie," the passenger seat enforcer snaps, his eyes narrowing. "We've got our orders, and we're just following them."
"Who sent you?" I ask, desperation creeping into my voice.
