CHAPTER FIVE 

Brittney's Pov 

I screamed and folded forward, my hands flying to my head as if I could hold myself together through force alone. My ears rang violently. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs it hurt. I waited for pain.

Nothing came.

I stayed frozen on my knees, shaking, my breath stuck somewhere between a sob and a scream. My lungs burned. My vision blurred.

Slowly and painfully, I opened my eyes.

The ground in front of me was torn open where the bullet had struck. Dust still floated in the air. Small stones rolled to a stop near my dress, now stained with dirt and blood that wasn’t mine.

I was still alive.

A broken, desperate sound tore out of my throat as relief crashed into me so hard it made me dizzy. I sucked in air greedily, my whole body trembling, my head spinning as reality struggled to catch up.

I didn’t die.

I didn’t...

A laugh cut through my relief.

I looked up.

He was watching me with an expression that turned my relief into something sour and dangerous. His gun hung loosely in his hand now.

They were satisfied.

“Don’t look so relieved,” he said calmly. “I’m not done with you.”

My breath stuttered.

“I said I wouldn’t kill you,” he continued, taking a step closer. “Not yet.”

My body instinctively scooted backward, my palms scraping against the ground as panic flooded back in full force. “Please,” I cried, my voice breaking. “Please, I’ll do anything. I swear.”

He crouched in front of me, close enough that I could smell the smoke clinging to him.

“That’s the problem,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to die.”

My stomach dropped.

“I want you to suffer,” he went on. “I want you to understand what it feels like to lose someone important. To feel helpless, to beg. To watch and do nothing.”

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. “I don’t understand,” I sobbed. “I didn’t do anything to you. I swear.”

He stood abruptly, cutting me off.

“You talk too much.”

Before I could react, he reached down, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked me to my feet. Pain exploded across my scalp, tearing another scream from my throat. My legs barely held me up as he dragged me closer to the car.

“Let go of me!” I cried weakly, clawing at his wrist. “Please!”

He shoved me against the side of the car hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. I gasped, my vision darkening as pain radiated through my ribs.

“Quiet,” he snapped.

Something cold pressed against my throat.

I froze.

My breath hitched as I realized what it was.

A knife.

The blade rested lightly against my skin, just enough pressure to make a thin line of fear slice straight through me. One wrong movement, the knife will cut my skin."

“I told you,” he murmured close to my ear, his voice disturbingly calm. “I want you to bleed. Slowly.”

My whole body shook. I couldn’t stop it. “Please,” I whispered hoarsely. “Please don’t do this.”

He ignored me.

Instead, he reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a phone. He tapped the screen a few times, his grip on my hair never loosening, the knife never leaving my throat.

The phone vibrated.

Once.

Twice.

My heart slammed violently as dread curled deep in my stomach.

The screen lit up.

A familiar face appeared.

Then another.

“Mama,” I choked.

“Papa.”

The word barely left my mouth before my knees nearly gave out.

Their faces filled the screen, confused at first, then alarmed as they took me in on my knees, shaking with a blade pressed against my throat. My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. My father leaned closer to the camera, his face draining of color.

“Britney?” my mother cried. “Oh God, Britney, what happened?”

I broke down in tears.

I sobbed so hard my chest hurt. “Mama, please,” I cried desperately. “Save me. Please. I didn’t do anything. He’s going to kill me.”

My father’s expression hardened instantly. “Who is this man?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

The man holding me smiled.

“You know exactly who I am,” he said coldly.

My parents stiffened.

“You remember my brother,” he continued. “The one you sold out. The one you let die.”

“That’s not true!” my mother sobbed. “We don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You’re lying!” my father shouted. “We are simple people. We have never harmed anyone.”

The knife pressed harder against my throat. I whimpered, my hands flying up instinctively.

“Please,” I cried. “Papa, Mama, please just do what he says.”

My father’s face twisted with anger and fear. “Britney, calm down,” he said sharply. “We had about what happened with the loan collectors. You had no right to run away like that. Do you know what you caused? Do you know the trouble you brought into this family?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What?” I whispered.

My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “You embarrassed us,” she said shakily. “We were trying to fix everything. We were trying to protect you. If you have been more patient we would have saved you.”

“I was scared,” I sobbed. “I didn’t want that marriage. Please, Mama—”

“You should have trusted us,” my father snapped. “Now look at what you’ve done.”

My heart shattered painfully in my chest.

The man laughed softly. “Blaming her already,” he said. “Interesting.”

My parents turned their attention back to him.

“Please,” my mother begged, her voice breaking. “She is innocent. If you want money, we will give you everything we have.”

“I don’t want money,” he replied flatly.

“Then what do you want?” my father asked.

The man tightened his grip on my hair, forcing my head back slightly, exposing my throat even more. The blade glinted dangerously close to my skin.

“I want justice,” he said. “I want you to kneel.”

Silence fell on the call.

“Kneel?” my father repeated slowly.

“In front of my brother’s grave,” the man continued. “In front of his corpse. Kneel and beg. Admit what you did.”

My mother shook her head frantically. “We didn’t kill your brother!”

“Then kneel anyway,” he snapped. “Or she dies.”

My breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. “Papa,” I cried. “Please. Please just do it. Please.”

My father stared at the screen, his jaw clenched, his chest heaving. For a moment, I thought he might refuse.

Then my mother fell to her knees.

The camera shook violently as she collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. “Please,” she cried. “Please don’t hurt my daughter.”

My father hesitated only for a second before dropping down beside her.

My chest tightened so painfully I thought I might pass out.

“Now say it,” the man ordered.

My father’s shoulders slumped. His voice broke as he spoke. “We’re sorry.”

The man’s smile widened. “Louder.”

“We’re sorry,” my mother sobbed. “Please forgive us.”

I cried openly, my body shaking violently. “Please stop,” I begged. “Please, this is enough.”

The man leaned closer to the phone. “Not yet.”

Suddenly, a loud noise erupted from their end of the call.

My mother screamed.

My father shouted her name.

The screen shook wildly, blurring their faces. I couldn’t see clearly anymore, only some movement, shadows, panic.

“Mama!” I screamed. “Papa!”

Another scream tore through the phone raw, full of terror.

Then the screen went black.

The call ended.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stared at the blank screen, my body completely numb, my mind unable to process what had just happened.

“No,” I whispered.

The word fell uselessly from my lips.

“No… no… no…”

I screamed then.

A sound ripped out of me that didn’t even sound like mine. My body collapsed forward as the world tilted violently. I clawed at the ground, my chest burning, my throat raw.

The phone slipped from his hand and hit the ground. I went unconscious afterwards.