Sold to the Mafia king
The outer road stretched before us, headlights cutting through black.
“There,” Neil said, voice low.
A black SUV idled ahead, unmarked, no plates. “Not ours,” I said.
I saw her, from afar. Lina, wild halo of hair, torn dress, trembling yet unbroken. The passenger window rolled down. They were speaking.
“Accelerate!”
Two hundred yards. One hundred.
A man emerged behind her, silent, lethal. A cloth to get face, then struggle. She fought. Elbows, teeth—her defiance wasn’t gone. Even through chemical fog, she fought like a Lacentra Donna to the last breath.