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This is no dream. And if I don’t keep my wits about me, it could end up being a death sentence.
First things first, I try to figure out where I am.
There’s an odd sort of humming noise outside and it’s hot. I try to kick out my legs – and I hit something solid. It sounds like tire against wet pavement. I hear the faint sounds of cars honking in the distance. I feel around me, although my hands are tied behind my back, I can feel rough carpeting.
It’s cramped. Dark. Hot.
I’m in the trunk of a car.
Panic beats through me, hard and violent. I fumble around for my wristlet, hoping that my purse somehow made it in here with me, but I can’t find it.
Each jolt and swerve sends waves of pain through my head.
I have no idea where we are or where we’re going.
Or why they took me.
The memory of Julia’s text flashes into my mind. Forgive me.
A sinking feeling settles in my stomach as I piece together the answer—I am important to Enzo and Nico, important enough for their rivals to go to great lengths to capture me.
Julia’s parents are Mafia. Could she have really sold me out? Why? My headache intensifies, making it hard to think clearly. I rest my head back against the trunk, trying to steady my breathing.
Survival is key. Not just for myself, but for those who are counting on me. I rub my stomach protectively as I strain to hear any noises beyond the ringing in my ears.
I swallow hard and think of Nico and Enzo. There’s no place I could go where they wouldn’t search for me.
I have to believe that as soon as they realize I’m missing, they’ll move Heaven and Hell to find me.
But, what if they don’t find me? What if they don’t realize I’m missing until it’s too late?
I’ll die. Or worse.
“Hold on for them, Christina. They’re coming for you.” I whisper to myself.
The car stops suddenly, and I hear footsteps on gravel outside. The noise jolts me out of my thoughts and my heart skips a beat with hope. Could it be them? My assailants? I strain my ears, trying to make out any sounds from outside.
A key turns in the lock and the trunk swings open, blinding light flooding in and forcing me to squint my eyes shut. Someone reaches in and yanks me out, throwing me roughly over their shoulders.
All I can see is a gravel driveway and the bottom of his pants. I struggle against their hold, but they only tighten their grip.
"Why did you take me?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
No response.
"They won't come for me," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and confident. I need to sound certain for what I’m about to say next. "I'm not important to them."
Someone backhands me, the pain searing through my cheek. My vision blurs and white spots dance behind my eyes as he strikes me again.
Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I bite back my scream. They won’t get that from me.
We enter a house and I crack my head on the doorjamb. It sends a wave of nausea crashing over me and I taste bile.
There’s a hum of conversation in this room. Several people are speaking Italian.
Mafia.
I send up another prayer that my men will find me, and soon.
