I’m dying.
Gabriele was killing me, his arm pressed into my neck and cutting off my air supply. My fingernails clawed at his arm, but he didn’t move. I felt myself slipping into calm, cool darkness and it was a welcome relief.
But then I heard shouting, and suddenly he released me. I took a deep, desperate breath even though I’d been reaching toward that bright light at the end of the tunnel that turned out to be the grime-covered lightbulb hanging from the ceiling instead. As soon as the humid, putrid air filled my lungs I started coughing and couldn’t stop.
“What?” Gabriele shouted as he pulled on his pants and threw open the door. I couldn’t hear what the guard said, but Gabriele cursed under his breath as I brought my shaking hands up and clutched my neck where a bruise was surely forming. More coughs came, and Gabriel shoved me aside, cursing at me to be quiet.
“Get her some different clothes,” he growled. “And make her eat. Force her if need be. I don’t want her losing any weight in that ass. I have plans for it later. Then you boys can have your fill.”
I had just enough strength to roll over and off the mattress before I threw up. The door slammed shut and I was left alone, but the shouting in the hallway didn’t cease for what felt like several minutes. Was I being rescued?
The thought spurred me back to reality. I wrapped the sheet around my shaking body and moved to the door when things quieted down. It was locked up tight. I held up a fist, my hand trembling and soaked in dried blood from the wounds left behind by the handcuffs.
I pounded on the door, but no one was out there. I started to scream, pleading for help. Nothing. Just silence for what felt like an eternity.
But then… sound, from above? I looked up as little puffs of dust drifted off the ceiling and settled on my shoulders. What was happening?
Footsteps sounded in the hallway and I backed away from the door.
“Please help,” I croaked. “Please, help me. Please!”
Several locks sprang loose from the door, and it opened, spilling light over my toes and legs and…
A guard dressed in nothing more than a sweaty white shirt and jeans with a huge pistol gleaming on his hip, stepped into the room. He shoved me backward. Hard. I stumbled and landed hard on my bottom while he rolled a toothpick over his tongue, grinning down at me before tossing a first-aid kit on the floor beside me.
“Clean yourself up.” His voice was void of kindness and sympathy. He turned on his heel and hesitated before leaving, casting me a sneer over his shoulder. “You’re fucking disgusting.” He slammed the door behind him.
I began to hyperventilate, hearing the locks snap back in place. My heart cracked and splintered, whatever shred of hope I’d had for rescue shattering in my chest. I tried to take a breath, to force even a bit of air into my lungs, but I couldn’t breathe.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I just started living.
Jim.
I closed my eyes and the darkness behind my lids glittered with fantasies of a disco ball shimmering over the heads of students as they danced an arm’s length apart. I imagined Jim taking my hand when nobody was looking and taking me out into the hall outside the gymnasium where it smelled like sweaty gym bags, dirty socks, and Axe body spray. I pictured him pulling me in close, grazing my lip with his soft thumb so unlike the callused hands that had been running all over my body before. I felt his lips, warm and velvet soft against mine. But it wasn’t real. Only the tears streaming down my cheeks were.
Had it really only been a few hours since I’d been speaking to Jim in the school parking lot? How much time had passed? Had he or Emma riddled out that I was missing yet?
I wasn’t sure, but as I curled my fingers over the first-aid kit and opened it, finding it bare bones with nothing but a shred of what looked like used gauze and a few packets of pre-soaked alcohol wipes, I closed my eyes and let my fantasies run wild, imagining the kidnapping hadn’t happened. That I’d simply gotten into my shitty old car and driven to the home I shared with Emma.
I’d have gone upstairs to our apartment and started making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner with the jars of fresh tomatoes I’d canned over the summer. I’d make it the same way my Nonna always had—stewed for two whole days with fresh basil, sea salt, lemon, and garlic.
Emma would’ve come home from her afternoon meeting with the Mathletes and we would’ve joked about our day over pasta and wine, then sat on the couch and graded papers while reality TV trilled in the background. She’d tell me I have no business being such a good cook. I’d tell her the dishes were on her. She’d put up a teasing fight, but would eventually cave, and once the kitchen was righted and our home smelled like the bergamot candle on the coffee table, we’d start getting ready for bed.
While we stood side by side in the bathroom washing our faces, I would have told her about Jim asking me out for drinks. She would have been so, so excited for me—for us.
And then she’d have helped me pick out a dress for the dance. Something modest, of course, but I would have taken off my cardigan before Jim and I went into the bar after the dance.
Emma would have made me pack the heels I could barely walk in that made my petite frame look several inches taller. Like she did with washing the dishes, I would have protested and then caved.
Jim would have flirted with me. I’d blush and flirt back. And at the end of the night, he’d kiss me, asking me out again. I’d have been glad I wore the heels even though they pinched my toes.
Eventually, we would’ve gotten married, bought a house, and realized that dream of adopting a golden retriever.
My hands burned as I passed the alcohol-soaked wipe over my torn and blistered wrists, but my breathing began to return to normal as I tossed the bloodied wipe aside and looked at the metal door shielding me from the outside world, from my life, from freedom and everyone I loved.
I’d escaped this life before. I’d thrown caution to the wind. I’d survived the storm and found a way to live.
And I would continue to do so. I promised myself. I would live. I would live. I would LIVE.
SeraI clutched the sheet to my chest as a young woman entered the room. She was dressed in a pale blue uniform of some kind, her mousy brown hair pulled away from her face. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on her that my hopes of a rescue were foolish.She held a tray of food in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.“Hi.” She didn’t look me in the eyes when she spoke. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the tray of food. “I brought you something to eat and change into.”“I need out of here,” I said, “not food and clothes.”A guard moved into place outside the door as she closed it behind her. My heart fell into my stomach as a crushing weight settled there. What lengths would he go to in order to make sure I didn’t set one toe out of this prison? Was he waiting for his turn with me, like Gabriele had promised him? How patient a man could he be? Would he wait? Or if he saw an opportunity… I shook my head, scattering my thoughts. I couldn’t focus on every little threat right now. There
SeraGabriele moved toward me wearing nothing but a robe—a nice one. Something made of soft, cool fabric so unlike the tattered robe wrapped around me. I had no idea what time it was, but he looked like he’d slept and showered.At least he’d be clean when he forced himself on me, not that that even mattered.“Take off the robe,” he commanded in an emotionless voice that sent a chill skittering up my spine. I hesitated a second too long and anger flashed through his eyes as he stalked forward and yanked me into a seated position.I yelped as he slapped me hard across the face. I tasted blood but fought the urge to burst into tears as I remembered what I’d promised myself before I fell asleep.Let him touch you. Let him have his way. Live, for the love of God, live as long as you can and get out of here! Live, so you can kill this man with your bare hands. Live, so you can stop this madness from continuing.“What did I say about obeying me, bella?” He fisted my hair and forced me to loo
SeraThe body of the man who’d bought me continued to bleed all over the bed as the man who’d shot him in the back of the neck entered the room.Without thinking, I pushed the body off me, flailing as I tried to stay calm but lost the battle.He was fucking dead! Right on top of me.“Calm the fuck down,” my alleged savior said, coming at me. He growled through gritted teeth, but I smacked at him blindly, trying to get away.Manhandling me seemed to be no problem for him. Within seconds, his strong hands clasped my arms, twisting them as he pulled me against him, putting yet another bag over my head and hoisting me over his shoulder.He didn’t tie my wrists though. Still wild, I bucked and tried to comprehend what was happening. He merely adjusted my weight with a little toss that sent me a couple inches into the air. When I came back down and landed on his shoulder, it took the wind out of me. A hiss of involuntary sound left my lungs. He patted my rear end as if calming a skittish do
SeraTommaso spoke with kindness that made me instantly suspicious. “Your wrists look a bit rough. Infected, maybe. I’ll send someone upstairs to take a look at you.”I said nothing as he led me up a wide staircase that branched off into two separate wings of the enormous, echoing mansion decorated in dark wood and rich, gray and emerald tile.“A shower too, I think,” he said, his voice clipped and lifted. I looked up at him then, noticing the way his eyes creased sympathetically as he smiled. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”“I…” I trailed off. What was he playing at? Did he think he could appease me with hot water and a trip to the doctor? Maybe a lollipop if I behaved? Not likely. “No.”I faced forward, trembling slightly as he shrugged in defeat and motioned for me to turn down one long, darkened hallway. Runners stretched the length of the wide hallway, lined with art in heavy wooden frames that might have cost more than the art itself. If my hands hadn’t been bound I would have reache
KillianI pursed my lips as I watched the grandfather clock in the corner of my office. It ticked and ticked away, each second like a breath I imagined Giuseppe de Luca taking as he arrived at his father’s house after a long night with whores and dice.My mouth twitched into a smile at the thought of what he’d find.The clock chimed seven, and I looked up as Francesco Abate entered the room, his face twisted in exhaustion. Francesco was a few years my junior. Tall and burly, he dripped with brute force and a violent disposition that had taken years to rein in. He was still working on that, but I was in no hurry to tame him. Terrifying man, truly.Francesco crossed his thick arms over his chest. “He knows.”“Well, that didn’t take long,” I said.A maid hurried in with a tray of coffee, her eyes flicking up to Francesco for a split second before she bristled and hurried over to me. She poured me a cup and I arched my brow at Francesco, who glared at the maid.“Thank you,” I said, but sh
SeraI mulled over my options as I took a shower, washing the blood and grime and the feel of Gabriele’s skin from my body. Food had been laid out, but I hadn’t touched it. An assortment of cheeses, breads, and cured meats sat alongside freshly washed green grapes and dried apricots. The sort of meal I’d have ordered off a menu to share with a friend. Or with Jim on our date, had a date ever come to fruition. As soon as Jim’s name skittered through my mind my chest tightened.Don’t think about him. A nice older man, possibly a butler, had cleaned and bandaged my wrists and a few other cuts and scrapes on my head. I’d been worried about being alone with a strange man again, but he’d brought a maid with him.He’d asked if I’d been… touched. I’d known what he meant. I only had the sense to shake my head and look down at the fresh, clean bandages covering the broken skin along my wrists as he gently told me I would heal. At least, my physical wounds would.But my mind had been elsewhere.
KillianDelaney Lombardi’s bleach-blonde hair stuck to her tear-stained cheeks as she rounded her bed, her body clothed in nothing more than a thin silk chemise the color of roses. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the door to the bedroom. She approached me slowly, her throat bobbing with serious effort as she took several calculated, but nervous, steps.“Does the-the nightgown suit me?” she asked. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as she slipped a shaking finger across her breasts. “Do you like it?”“Where is your father?”“He’s not here,” she answered, swallowing hard again. “But you are.”I kicked off the door and stalked toward her. She yelped in surprise and moved away from me, climbing up and over the bed. Not so confident now, was she?I grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her to me, pinning her legs against the bed.“Don’t toy with me,” I spat, my lip curling over my teeth as I watched her tremble. “Where the fuck is Eduardo?”“I swear,” she sobbed. “I-I don’t know where
SeraA maid walked into the room. She wore her glossy black hair pulled back into a low, messy bun at the nape of her neck. She smiled at me with thin pink lips and shook a pill bottle.“Antibiotics,” she said. “I swear. I can take one to prove to you it’s not something to knock you out.”“It’s okay,” I cut in, my heart hammering in my chest. I’d almost been caught with the phone. Thank God it hadn’t been Killian who’d come in. He would’ve seen right past my strained expression and known I’d done something I shouldn’t have.The maid frowned and clicked her tongue when she spotted the charcuterie board sitting on the dresser. She moved over to it, her skirt rustling with every step. “You didn’t eat. No bother. I’ll have something else sent up for you. You need to eat with the medication, even if it’s just a bit of milk. Okay?”“I will,” I said, only agreeing with her to get her out of the room so I could make another desperate call.She smiled and set the pill bottle on the table next