The van rumbles along below me, and I do my best to keep my breathing steady. I have no idea where we’re going—but I doubt it’s going to be good news for me when we get there.
It’s been a couple of days since I was taken—at least, that’s how long I think it is, though I don’t really have any way to tell. I’ve tried to keep track of the sun rising and falling, of the food that’s being pushed into my room once a day or so, but it all blurs together into a mess that I don’t know how to make sense of.
Just a few hours ago, the door to my cell was thrown open. The man who took me, the attacker who snatched me up from my apartment, stood there in the doorway, looking down at me with a sneering smile.
“Well, there you are,” he murmured as he made his way toward me. I scrambled to my feet, my shoulders hunched forward, my body taking on a defensive stance. I was not going to let him take advantage of me.
He keeps threatening it, peppering every encounter we have with warnings that he’ll take whatever he wants from me and I’ll just have to find a way to live with it, but I have no idea if this is just his way of playing with me—or if he really means it. Am I off-limits, because of who I am? Or is it even more likely that one of these fuckers is going to try and make a move on me when I least expect it…?
“We’re leaving. Come on.”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the door, and I stumbled forward, unable to fight him off. I could hear the blood pulsing in my ears, the terror and fear of what was to come next hanging over my head, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
He pulled me through the corridors, past the doorways where the other women were being held, and I sent out a silent prayer that they were going to be okay. There was nothing I could do to help them, not right then at least, and the best I could hope for is that I didn’t cause them more trouble than they were already going through.
I can’t even imagine what brought them to that place, but we’re all in this together—all facing off against the same nightmare as one another. As soon as I get the chance, I’m going to get all of those women out—I refuse to turn my back and walk away, not knowing how bad things can get…
But for the time being, I’m stuck in the back of the same van that took me in the first place, being driven away from the compound where I was being held. I scramble up to the window and peer through the small crack as it vanishes into the distance—I pray I’ll never have to go back there again, though maybe I’ll be a little more open to the idea once I find out where they’re taking me now.
The ride goes on for what feels like forever—long enough, in fact, that I start to wonder if these guys are just fucking with me, trying to screw with my head and make me feel as though I have a way out when they know for damn sure I don’t. Finally, though, the wheels come to a halt, and the engine drops off, leaving me sitting in a sudden, eerie silence. For a split second, I find myself wishing that the engine would start again. At least then I wouldn’t have to face whatever is waiting for me on the other side of the door…
But before I can linger too long on that thought, the door to the van flies open in front of me, and the man grabs me and yanks me out. I nearly stumble straight to the ground, but he catches me, an arm around my waist, as my eyes adjust to the light.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he tells me, his voice laced with an obvious venom. “See if you can keep your feet underneath you, huh? Don’t want to be covered in bruises before the boss gets a chance to talk to you…”
My heart drops. The boss? Who is he talking about? Why would I suddenly be brought up in front of someone like this? Someone with this much power? Is it a game, a play, to force me into being more willing? Or is it something else entirely…?
Before I have a chance to consider that question, he pulls me toward a large building. I blink and take in my surroundings as best I can—it looks as though we’re on a standard suburban street, the sunlight filtering through the tall townhouses around us. The kind of place where rich people would live, the kind of homes they would show off to anyone who would listen. Anyone living here, they have to have some serious money to their name…
Which they would, I suppose, if they’re the boss of a mafia.
I try to pull away from the man leading me when we reach the door of one of the houses, but he just digs his fingers into my arm with a little more purpose.
“Now, now, sweetheart,” he reminds me. “Don’t want to make a scene in front of the neighbors, do you? Think of what a bad impression that would make on Mr. Maglione.”
He pulls me up the steps and we come to a halt at the top. He pauses for a moment, shooting a grin back at me, before he thuds his hand against the door. I stay silent, staring at the small window in the doorway and tensing when I see a figure making their way toward it to answer the call. I don’t know what I expected, but this…this might go way higher than I had any idea about.
The door opens, and behind it, another man is standing—he doesn’t look nearly as rough as the bastard who dragged me out here. He’s wearing a dark suit and has his hair shaven close to his head. I can see the bulge of a gun in his pants, though he doesn’t make any move to use it.
“This the girl?” he asks, looking over at me.
The man at my side nods. “This is her.”
The man—a guard, if I had to guess—turns his gaze to me and looks me up and down slowly, like he’s drinking me in. Partly to see if I’m a threat, but judging by the look on his face, there’s more to this than simple duty.
“I can see why that bastard likes her so much,” he remarks. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
I bite back a smart comment. I know I can’t risk getting myself into any more trouble—I need to play nice with these people, at least for now. It might not be easy, but I’m not going to let some asshole rile me up when I know I need to have my wits about me.
“The boss is waiting for her,” he continues, stepping away from the door and gesturing for the two of us to come inside. “Upstairs, to the left. In his study.”
He turns to me, where I stand frozen on the spot. I feel as though, if I can keep from moving, none of them will see me, as ridiculous as it sounds.
“You heard me,” he snaps. “In, now!”
I finally move, stepping into the house and looking around. I doubt I’ll be given a chance to make a break for it anytime soon, but perhaps if I know where the exits are, on the off chance I do see a way out, I can actually take it. My chances are slim, but that doesn’t mean I have to give up on any hope of getting out of here.
In fact, that hope might be the only thing keeping me together right now.
Our surroundings are opulent—there are paintings on the walls, the house is immaculate, and I can smell cigar smoke in the air, one of those sense memories that takes me right back to all the evenings I spent working late with the councilor. But this is very different to my internship. No, the people I met there didn’t have power at the level I’m going to be faced with right now—and I have to catch up with that, fast.
At the top of the stairs, I’m led to a room at the end of a corridor—a far cry from the cell I was kept in. The doorknob is polished and I can hear quiet music playing from the next room.
“In,” the guard orders me, rapping his fingers on the door. I feel a dizzying sense of fear wash through me, but I plant my hand on the door and push it open. I’m not going to get a choice in this meeting, one way or the other—better that I go about it on my own terms, at least.
Inside, the room is quiet, almost peaceful—aside from the classical music playing on a record player next to an open window, you could mistake this place for a sanctuary. A man is sitting in a large red leather chair, facing the window that looks out over the perfect gardens beyond. I stand there for a moment, not sure whether I should introduce myself or announce my presence, but then he turns to face me.
His gaze sweeps up and down my body quickly, and he rises to his feet, a broad smile crossing over his face.
“Ah, Ms. Kincaid,” he greets me smoothly. “A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?”
His sudden hospitality is disconcerting to me, after everything I’ve been through at the hands of his men. Does he just expect me to nod along and let him take care of me? Surely, he can’t be that stupid. Or perhaps he’s trying to gaslight me, make me feel as though everything that happened to me was completely deserved. I stay standing right where I am, staring back at him, not breaking his gaze for a second. I can’t let him see any weakness—I can’t…
“No, thank you,” I reply, even though I can’t help staring at his drinks’ cabinet longingly. I haven’t been able to have a drink in a long time, what with breastfeeding and being pregnant, and more than ever right now, I crave something to take the edge off.
“Well, I must insist you sit,” he replies. His voice is mild; he doesn’t sound as though he has any reason to second-guess my presence here, any reason to doubt what’s going on in my mind. Does he think I’ll give him everything he wants so easily? I guess I don’t have much of a choice…
I take my seat, and stare him down. He looks back at me steadily, and a smile curls up his lips as he reaches for his own drink, perched on the edge of the table.
“I didn’t think we’d get a chance to be alone together so soon, Ms. Kincaid,” he tells me. There’s something about the way my name sounds on his lips that I don’t like. I’m not even sure how he found it out—who told him who I am? Has he been stalking me so intently that he’s discovered everything about me? The thought of a man like this aiming all his attention at me—it’s bad news, there’s no doubt about it.
“What do you want from me?” I blurt out, before I can stop myself. Play it nice? Maybe when I know what I’m dealing with.
“Oh, if you’d prefer to get straight to business, we can do that,” he replies, clasping his hands before him and leaning forward. “I brought you here because I want to know everything you do about Luca.”
He lets that name hang in the air between us—I don’t know what he’s expecting me to do or say to that, how he intends me to respond, but I shake my head.
“I’m not telling you anything about him.”
He lets out a slight chuckle—as though the mere intention of my certainty is amusing to him. “I think you will,” he replies. “What is a woman like you doing involved with a bastard like him, anyway?”
The way he curses that word, it’s clear that he has some seriously dark feelings toward Luca. I’m not sure I want to know what they are—I feel like, if I’m not careful, I might make all of this worse somehow, and that’s the last thing I need. I realize, in that instant, that I am a vital assets to both sides of this battle. I need to remember that I have power here, and that I can make use of it if I play my cards right.
“I can’t imagine why some young, up-and-coming politician would want to associate themselves with a man like Luca,” he continues. “With everything he’s been involved with…how much has he told you about his family? His father? Everything he’s done over the course of his life? All the pain he’s caused, all the suffering he has left behind?”
I shift in my seat slightly. Don’t believe him. That’s what he wants, for me to let my doubts get the better of me. Luca might not have told me everything about what his family does, but I know it’s a damn sight better than anything this man has been up to.
“I bet he’s told you that I’m worse, hasn’t he?” he adds, a smile curling up the corners of his lips. “You really believe that, after everything that’s happened?”
“After you kidnapped me?” I spit back, unable to contain myself any longer.
He draws back slightly—but if anything, he seems rather amused by my sharp tone.
“We rescued you from him,” he replies. “And when the time comes, we’ll do the same for your daughter too—”
“Don’t you dare speak about her!” I explode, my hands clenching to fists before I can stop myself.
His eyes flash with anger, and I can tell, in that instant, that I have overstepped the mark.
He rises to his feet, glowering down at me, the gentlemanly charm that he wore as a mask suddenly dropping away.
“I won’t be spoken to like that,” he warns me. “And you don’t want to find out what happens to people who go against what I’ve asked for. You hear me?”
His tone is clipped; I hear movement in the corridor outside, probably one of the guards, checking to see what all of this commotion is about. I don’t dare look around to check. I know that if I break his gaze right now, he will take it as some kind of insult, and I need to be careful about what I let him think of me.
“Sorry,” I mutter, and he sinks back down into his seat, smiling magnanimously once more.
“Of course,” he replies. “I understand that you’re in a high-stress situation. And I know you’ll want it to be over sooner rather than later. Get back to your daughter, huh? How does that sound?”
Even though he’s doing little more than dangling a taunting carrot in front of my face, my heart still leaps at the mention of Polly. I have no idea what has been happening to her since I’ve been gone, and I want nothing more than to hold her in my arms and promise her that I am never going to leave again, not as long as I live.
“So, just tell me what you know about Luca,” he continues, narrowing his eyes. “What is he doing in the city? Where’s his father? His brother?”
I press my lips together and stare back at him, daring him to ask me more. In this moment, I am calling the shots, I have the power, and I intend to make the most of it. It might not serve me well in the long run, but at least I can try to grasp some small piece of control back before he flips his shit entirely.
“You don’t know?” he pushes.
I shrug. I’m not going to say a word. Leave him guessing—leave him wondering if there’s more that I’m not saying, or if Luca has just kept me out of his life so completely that I wouldn’t know either way. I can see his face starting to darken, a shadow crossing his gaze as he realizes he isn’t going to get what he wants from me.
“All you have to do is talk,” he replies, lowering his voice again, leaning in a little closer.
But I know that’s not true. He might tell me everything I want to hear, make me believe that all of this could be over if I just do everything right, but the truth isn’t that simple. The way his men have been talking about me, it’s clear they will take everything they can from me as soon as they get the chance. If I spill my guts about Luca, it’s going to come back and bite me in the ass, and there’s nothing I will be able to do about it.
Not a damn fucking thing.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I stare back at him, almost daring him to take me on or push for more. He’s toeing this line, not wanting to scare me off, but not wanting to ease up on me either.
I wonder how long this thing has been going on—the way Luca spoke about it, it sounded as though he was clashing with their family over the course of the last few years, and this might be the closest he has come to breaking them.
It all hangs on me—one wrong word, and I could give away more than I can handle.
But I’m not going to let that happen, not a goddamn chance in hell.
“Listen to me, little girl,” he murmurs, inching slightly closer, dropping whatever pretense he might have been hanging on to about how this is going to go. “You’re going to give me what I want. And that’s how you’re going to walk out of here without losing that pretty little head of yours. You hear me?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” I reply, making sure to enunciate each word so he can really take it in. He’s not going to make a move to harm me so soon—he knows I have information he wants, and he can’t risk letting it slip through his fingers. No, he’s got to keep me around for at least a little while longer, and I’m going to wring every drop of satisfaction out of it as I—
But before I can even finish my thought, he slams his hands down on the table, sending a crash through the room and making me jump. I draw back from him, my body tensing. Is he going to make good on that threat right here and right now…?
“You fucking bitch,” he snarls. His composure is gone—the good-guy act he’s been trying to sell me on is over.
He reaches for a letter opener sitting on the desk, drawing it back from the leather holster it was hidden in, and reaching to press it against my neck. The cold sensation of the metal on my skin freezes me to the spot. I stare up at him, the serrated edge against my throat, knowing that all it would take is one wrong move on either of our parts and this would be over.
“You think you can play with that family and get away with it?” he replies, shaking his head slowly, dragging the knife along my neck—not enough to break the skin, but enough to drag it painfully in one direction, a reminder of just how easy it would be for him to make his move.
“You have no idea who I am,” he continues. “You have no idea what I can do. I can send you away to one of our brothels for the rest of your life, at least until you’re willing to talk. How does that sound? Send you back to your daughter a broken whore…?”
I jerk back from him, the words too painful to make sense of, and he withdraws his knife—the smirk has returned to his face, and he clearly knows that he has made his point.
“That’s what I thought,” he replies, and he looks past me and out the door—to where the guard is waiting for me.
“Oliver, take her to the basement,” he calls out. “She’s not giving us anything for now. But I think with a little persuasion, we could change her mind. You up to that…?”
I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder, the grip of it sinking into my skin.
“Oh,” Oliver replies, a dark humor to his voice. “I think I can handle it.”
And with that, he pulls me to my feet and guides me toward the stairs once more. I don’t know where I’m being taken, but I get the feeling it will be a far cry from the luxury that currently surrounds me.
But I don’t have a choice. It’s that, or break Luca’s trust and put him in danger too. As far as I know, he’s the only one left who can look after Polly. I’m not going to make that kind of mistake—I’m not going to put him in the firing line like that.
Oliver drags me down the stairs, past the paintings glaring down at me from every wall, and reaches a locked door next to the kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs to me, leaning in close to my ear, close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath on me. It’s disgusting, the scent of it clinging to me even as I try to draw back.
“We’re going to have all the privacy we need down there.”
And, with that, he shoves me down the stairs and I stumble into the darkness, terrified about what might be waiting for me at the bottom.
