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"Enough!" the driver snaps.
"We're not here to debate ethics with you, Emily.
Or should I say, Rosalie Battaglia, the runaway mafia princess.
You got off easy once, but your past has caught up with you."
Fury courses through my veins, but I swallow it, trying to maintain my composure.
My hands are shaking, and I feel bile rise at the back of my throat.
Before I can think of another plan, the car comes to a sudden stop.
The men exchange glances and quickly blindfold me, shoving me down into the seat.
The rough fabric scrapes against my skin, making my heart race even faster.
"Keep quiet and cooperate, or else," the driver threatens, tying my wrists tightly together with a coarse rope that digs painfully into my skin.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be."
"Or what?" I spit out, unable to hold back my defiance.
"You'll hurt me? Kill me? After everything I've been through, it's going to take more than that to break me."
"Brave words, Rosalie," the passenger seat enforcer taunts. "But we'll see how long that defiance lasts once you're in Hunter's presence."
The car starts moving again, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out as every bump and jolt sends a fresh wave of pain through my body.
My mind races with thoughts of escape, of how I can fight back against these men and free myself from the nightmare they've dragged me into.
"Remember," the driver says coldly, his voice breaking through my thoughts like a knife.
"Hunter Drucci is not a man to be trifled with. You'd do well to remember that."
As the car continues its journey to my uncertain fate, I cling to my anger, my fear.
The sound of the car engine gradually stops, and I can sense that we've arrived at our destination.
My heart races in anticipation of what's to come.
What kind of man has Hunter Drucci become?
I haven't seen him since I ran off from our months ago, but his ruthless reputation precedes him.
"Get out," the driver barks, yanking me roughly from the confines of the car.
I stumble onto the pavement, disoriented by the blindfold still covering my eyes.
Fear courses through my veins, but I refuse to let it show.
"Where are we?" I demand, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Quiet!" the passenger seat enforcer snaps, grabbing my arm and pulling me forward.
As we walk, our footsteps echo off what I assume are high walls.
The air is colder here, and I shiver involuntarily.
