CLAIMED BY THE MAFIA DON
What if he’s decided that I don’t deserve to raise my own son, that I don’t even deserve a goodbye?
And just like that, panic takes over.
I scramble for my clothes, not even caring what I throw on, what it looks like, if it's inside out, if it makes sense. I just moved. I just ran down the stairs. With my Heart in my throat and Terror in every step. Straight for the front door.
My hand slams onto the knob, cold and stiff, and I twist it. Nothing. It won’t turn. It's Locked. My heart jumps. He’s locked me in?