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The narrow stairs turn. Bruno’s strong legs are beating down the stairs toward me. I turn, so fast I almost lose my balance. Alessio is coming up behind me.
I’m trapped.
“No!”
“Oh, yes.” From farther down the stairs, Carlo’s voice is thick with menace. “Bring her to me.”
“NO!” Hysterical panic starts to sweep through me. I’m losing control.
I turn, but Bruno is already on me. I turn back, but I’m too late. Bruno takes hold of me under my shoulders, tickling my ribs for good measure as he does. Alessio cackles as he lifts my feet.
My legs judder as I try to thrash and kick. Alessio’s grip on my ankles is too strong, though. I squirm and shriek with pleasure and anticipation.
“Yell, Princess.” There’s a merciless laugh in Carlo’s voice as I’m carried back down the stairs. “Shout and scream all you like. There’s nobody who can hear you.”
“And they wouldn’t help you if they could,” Alessio says.
“No.” With relish, Bruno adds, “Whoever there is for miles around here works for us.”
“What shall we do with her?” Carlo asks.
“Oh, I think her fate is sealed,” Bruno says, “Carlo, you’d better fetch the equipment. We’ll hold her tight until you get back.”
“Where to?” Alessio asks, theatrically.
“There’s only one place,” Bruno’s voice is solemn. “We’ll stretch her out…”
“NO!” I shake my arms and legs.
“…in the chamber of doom!”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Dark panels line the big room. Heavy drapes hang over the windows and the bay. In the center of the long wall is a thick mattress on a high, canopied bed. In a huge, gilt mirror, I catch sight of myself. Waving my arms and kicking my legs, I look frantic. Deranged. And I am.
Holding my ankles with a grip like iron, Alessio torments me. Pulling my legs apart, and up and down. Whatever way I try to move them, he resists ands pulls in the opposite direction. I’m laughing and giggling, helpless. And fighting. But it does me no good at all.
Bruno has hold of me under my arms. He’s able to tickle me, in my ribs and armpits. All I can do is flail my arms around like a mad, disconnected windmill.
Bruno says, “We can’t risk letting go of her. Not for a second.”
I’m twisting and giggling.
“We’ll have to hold her tight.”
“No,” I’m struggling. “Put me down.”
Bruno laughs. “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”
A thought springs out of nowhere. What if they knew that I fired the final shot. That it was me who dispatched the don?
Alessio’s voice is deep and solemn. “We’ll have to wait for Carlo to come.”
I struggle more frantically.
“We need Carlo,” Bruno agrees.
“And the instruments.” Alessio nods.
