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“Start walking,” the man orders, waving the gun toward his vehicle. I inhale sharply, trying to stay calm, realizing that this is a member of the DeLucci Family by his signature red tie.
As I approach the vehicle, hands still raised, I notice another man inside the car, another DeLucci minion. I scan the horizon to my left and right, trying to decide if I have enough time to dash off into the woods, but I know with my size, my movements are way more cumbersome now, and they might just shoot me for trying.
The best way to protect myself and the baby is to cooperate, I realize with a heavy heart. The man emerges from the SUV when I approach, grabbing me and tying my hands behind my back with zip-ties.
They shove me in the backseat, uncaring when I topple sideways as the vehicle takes off.
“Call Luca,” the driver says, taking off as soon as the car doors are shut. The other man whips out a phone, putting it up to his ear.
“We got her,” he informs the person on the other end. “Sal will be pleased.”
My heart is jackhammering in my chest now as I try to keep my wits about me. I never thought I could be a target just from my association with the Everharts.
Anxiety rolls through me, the sense of dread crawling down my spine as we speed away from my car.
“We’ll get paid well for this one,” one of them says, voice low and dripping with malice.
“Yeah, she’s a high-value target,” the other replies, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.
My mind races as I listen to their conversation, heart sinking with each passing moment. Trapped and hopeless, I can only pray for a miracle as the realization dawns on me that my fate lies in the hands of these ruthless strangers.
Once we hit the city, they take side streets and careen around tight corners, heading deep in the Financial District to an old, abandoned building with the name La Lune painted on a fading sign.
La Lune was a hotel once upon a time, but it’s fallen into disuse, so I’m not sure why we’re here. Is this where they’re keeping me?
The two men pull up to a side entrance, one keeping an eye out while the other yanks me from the backseat, setting me on my feet and pushing me forward, gun to my back.
We walk in through a service entrance, my eyes widening with trepidation as I take in the dimly lit corridor stretching out before me. The air hangs heavy with musty decay, the scent of neglect mingling with my rising fear.
The two kidnappers flank me, their presence looming like menacing shadows in the gloom. Their rough hands grip my arms firmly, propelling me forward with a sense of urgency that sends a chill down my spine.
As we traverse the dim passageway, my senses are assaulted by the eerie silence broken only by the distant creaking of floorboards beneath our feet. The faint echo of our footsteps reverberates off the decaying walls, creating an unsettling rhythm that seems to resonate with my racing heart.
With each step, the darkness seems to close in around us, enveloping us in its suffocating embrace. My pulse quickens as I struggle to maintain my composure, my mind racing with thoughts of escape even as I know the odds are stacked against me in this forsaken place.
Pushing me through a set of creaking double doors, I emerge into a vast, dilapidated ballroom shrouded in shadows. The grand room is now obscured by layers of dust and decay, once opulent chandeliers hanging precariously from the ceiling like forgotten relics of a bygone era.
The two men guide me toward the center of the room, toward a single, solitary chair that sits ominously alone amid the ruins. The wooden frame groans as they force me onto it, ancient upholstery offering little comfort to my bound limbs.
With quick hands, they secure me to the chair with more zip-ties, binding me tightly as if to drive home how helpless I truly am.
The carved wooden arms dig into my skin, splinters scraping against me as they push me backward. I’m trying to stay calm, to keep myself from getting hysterical, but the surge of adrenaline is wearing off, replaced by the hormones that have been making residence in my body these past six months.
A sob threatens to choke me as it rises in my throat. There’s an undercurrent of fear racing through me, not just for myself but for the baby, so tiny, innocent, and helpless.
As I sit bound to the chair, the two men huddle together, their voices low but filled with a palpable sense of excitement.
“This is it,” one of them declares, his voice filled with malicious glee. “We finally have the exact pawn we need to get retaliation on those Callahan bastards for what they did to Vince. The Callahans won’t know what hit ’em.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I strain to listen, my senses on high alert as they discuss their plans for revenge. Every word sends a shiver down my spine, filling me with a sense of dread and unease.
“Vince said that Everhart bastard nearly killed ’im,” the other replies. “We should kill this one on principle.”
“All in due time,” the first one says. “If we kill her now, revenge won’t be as sweet. Luca wants her alive for when he gets here.”
“He gonna bring the stuff?”
“Yeah, said he was going to. Those Callahan stronzos are going to regret the day they crossed paths with a DeLucci.”
