Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Instinctively, I curl into a fetal position and cover my head with my arms.
“I didn’t say beat. I said torture,” Riccardo snaps.
I don’t even have the courage to peek around me and keep my eyes squeezed shut.
The next moment Vincent grabs my right hand and pries my fist open. My eyes fly open, and horrified I watch as he brings a set of pliers closer to my hand.
“NoNoNoNo!” I scream, and when I try to push him away from me with my left hand, he uses his body to block me, grips my pinky finger, and rips the nail off.
Between my wails of pain, I hear Riccardo sneer, “I thought you were in a relationship with the girl.”
There’s no emotion in Alek’s voice as he replies, “Would it help if I lost my shit?” I hear him let out a sigh. “It won’t stop you from torturing her.”
“Take the girl and Vincent back to their rooms,” Riccardo shouts.
Is it over?
I’m yanked to my feet and shoved toward the doorway. I only get a glimpse of Alek, who’s staring at Riccardo, unfeeling as ever.
I cradle my right hand against my shirt, my blood seeping into the fabric.
Vincent is locked in the room opposite ours before I’m shoved into the four walls that have become my prison.
I hurry to the corner where I sit down, and pressing my face into my knees, I try to process what just happened.
The pain burns all the way from my pinky up to my wrist as if the digit has been set on fire. There’s a throbbing ache in my jaw, and my chaotic emotions threaten to make me lose my sanity.
I had a perfect life before my parents died.
How did it come to this? Me, an orphan who’s going to be tortured and killed by criminals.
What did I do to deserve this?
I wish I could be like Alek and just not care.
Alek.
I lift my head and stare at the locked door.
Are they going to kill him?
God, I hope not. I don’t want to be alone in this room.
I’ve only known him a day, and already I’m attached to him. I think it’s because of the harrowing situation we find ourselves in. He’s the only person I can connect with. Just having him here with me helps.
It has nothing to do with the attraction I felt when I saw how good-looking he is but pure survival. The odds of me getting out of this hell alive is better with Alek by my side.
If he dies, they’ll probably kill me shortly after.
I haven’t prayed since I lost my parents. I’ve been too angry with God. But with Alek’s life hanging in the balance, I start to whisper, “Dear, God, don’t let them kill Alek. Or Me. Or Vincent. Please send an angel to watch over us. I don’t want to die, and I’m so scared. Please help us.”
As the prayer leaves my lips, I don’t feel any better.
If miracles existed, my parents would still be alive, and I wouldn’t be locked in a room.
Please come back, Alek.
Chapter 7
Alek
While Vincent and Everleigh are taken out of the room, Prodi trains his gun on me. When I hear movement behind me, I keep my eyes locked on Prodi.
My arms are grabbed, and I’m yanked backward. Forced to sit down on a chair, Prodi’s men strap my forearms to the armrests.
Only then does Prodi place his gun on his lap. Removing a packet of cigarettes, he lights one before he says, “I hear your father attacked Ivanov’s place. He thought you were taken in retaliation for trying to kidnap Svetlana.”
He’s not holding us for information. Fuck. That means he’ll kill us once he’s had his fun.
“As you know, my father is against the mafia and bratva working together. For fun, we sent a ransom note to your father. We’re not asking much. Just one euro for you and Vincent. It’s a bargain.”
There’s no way my father will pay for our release. Prodi is playing a mind game with him.
“As an incentive, we’ll send your father recordings and proof of life. For your sake, I hope he swallows his pride.”
That will never happen.
Prodi takes a deep pull of his cigarette then slowly blows out the smoke. “Who is this Everleigh Adams, and what is she to you?”
I’m not telling this man shit and just stare at him.
He gestures to one of the men, my hand is grabbed, and a knife is plunged through my skin and bone.
I can’t keep myself from groaning as the sharp pain tears through my hand. “Mater' Bozh'ya.” A threatening chuckle escapes me. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Who’s the girl?” Prodi asks again.
I clench my jaw while sucking in a deep breath of air.
This is exactly like the training I’ll receive at St. Monarch’s next year. If I can’t survive a little torture, I won’t make it during training.