Anya Santini de Luna POV
My body aches from all the anxiety and terror I’m feeling.
At least my bladder’s no longer going to burst, but standing in the room with our captors, my relief is quickly forgotten.
Are they going to kill one of us?
All of us?
My eyes land on the tooth near Marc Vincent, and I feel the ache in my jaw.
God.
This is horror. Pure freaking horror.
My gaze flits all over the room, my breaths already rushing over my lips.
How am I going to survive this?
“Uncuff Marc Vincent,” the one in charge orders.
The other guy unlocks Marc Vincent’s cuffs, then another order is given. “Get up, Marc Vincent.”
I watch as Xander’s brother climbs to his feet. He has the same emotionless expression on his beaten face as Xander.
Riccardo gestures to his guard or soldier. I’m not sure what to call him.
“Darius will shoot one of you unless…” Riccardo gets up and looks at Marc Vincent. “You have to choose who will get tortured next. If you refuse, Darius will kill one of you.”
Oh, God.
