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“Hey,” he said softly.
I lifted my hand, gritting my jaw. It took me a moment to tear my gaze from the floor and meet his eyes.
“We will find her,” he said firmly. “I swear it.”
As I stared blankly at him, something clicked. All the strange events and coincidences from the last few months around the guns and the ships in the harbor shifted in my mind. Like a puzzle assembled at lightning speed. All the pieces clicked together and the picture they painted was ugly. This wasn’t an isolated incident, this was a part of something much bigger.
A trap.
“The boats,” I said. “The boats are full of soldiers.”
Cosimo shook his head once, blinking rapidly. “What?”
I stepped back, horrified. “We’ve been under attack this entire time. The guns were seized, the cargo ships in the harbor are full of soldiers or weapons. Or both, probably both. Someone has Olivia and they’re going to make me choose between her or the city. I swear I’m right.”
For a second, Cosimo looked like he wanted to argue. But then a horrible calm moved over his face and his lips parted.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Olivia wasn’t the target. She’s just the final piece.”
I nodded once. The silence was loud and I knew what he was thinking. I lifted my chin.
“I’m picking Olivia,” I said. “If it comes down to it, I’ll choose her over everything.”
“I know,” said Cosimo hoarsely. “I understand.”
I cleared my throat. “We have to find out who has her, but if I had to guess, they’ll contact us shortly. You need to get your family ready to leave the city. Whoever it is, they’re going to trade Olivia back and invade the city with whatever is in those cargo ships. I’d bet everything I have on it—Iambetting everything on it.”
“What do we do?” Cosimo asked.
He was pale, but collected. I appreciated that.
“Get your family, get Duran’s family, to the safehouse for now. I’m going to scour the city until I find her or they contact me,” I said. “We all have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OLIVIA
My hands ached. My fingertips pulsed painfully.
I stirred and my neck cracked. Pain rippled down my back.
My eyes cracked open. Overhead, a pale light glittered like a smear across my vision. My mouth was dry and my jaw locked shut and refused to open. I hadn’t felt this helpless before in my life, not even after giving birth to Marco and losing control of my entire lower body from the epidural.
I shifted my hips. There was something soft beneath me that smelled like cleaner. But it wasn’t the scent of laundry soap that I was used to. It was sharp and antiseptic.
The smell triggered a wave of panic in my helpless body. Years ago, before Lucien, when I was a teenager, I’d been forced to undergo an examination to prove I still had my virginity. The doctor’s office had smelled like this. Sharp, gut-wrenching.
My fingers fisted and pain shot through me, so strong it turned my stomach.
My lids stung as I peeled my eyelashes apart, blinking hard. I was in a bed in an empty, plain room. The walls were light gray, the window had a matching shade pulled over it, and the only furniture was the bed. Even the sheets were a dull off-white, the same shade as the hospital-style blanket over my body.
I shifted, trying to push myself up and meeting resistance. Panicked, I shot upright and tore the sheet back, revealing a silver cuff around my bare ankle. The skin beneath it was bruised, like I’d fought it in my sleep. Tugging the sheet back further, my stomach roiled at the sight of the thick chain running from my leg to the bedpost.
My eyes moved higher and I realized I was naked. Horrified, I pushed my fingers between my thighs.
I was alright. A wave of raw relief poured through my chest. Everything else screamed with pain. Two of my nails were ripped off and had been bandaged with gauze and tape. There was an ugly purple bruise on my hip and my cheek felt tender, as did the spot on my neck where that man jabbed me with a needle.
My breath hitched. Had someone moved outside the door?
