It was quiet, and she was frightened and numb at the same time; the weed had taken its toll on her. She wondered what was in the wrapped paper.
Then she heard the voices just outside.
"You've got to pay for the drugs, man. It took a lot of work to get her here. "That was Marco's voice.
There was a grunt, which she couldn't tell from that said, "I agree, she'll be a good fuck, but I disagree she is worth that amount."
Her heart tightened. Was Marco selling her? To be a sex slave? He made her unconscious so he could do whatever he wanted with her.
Damn him. Damn her!
She carefully stood up, her eyes taking in everything as her heart thudded. She needed to get out there. Or, better still, defend herself.
Her eyes fell on the gun at her side of the bed, and she swallowed. She was going to do it again! Kill somebody again. Go through another trauma again. She held her hand, tears threatening.
Marco was saying, "La riporter indietro allora." —I'll take her back then—
"Calm down, dude. Take
