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It was so much easier when my parents used to abuse me because I didn’t know any different.
Now that I’ve felt loved and have so much more to lose, it’s unbearable.
I don’t want to die.
Not now.
Not like this.
I hear the lock turning, and my chin lifts higher. I suck in a fortifying breath and find the spot on the wall to stare at.
Whatever happens, don’t show them any emotion.
Don’t break.
You’re a mafia queen.
You’re Gabriella Falco.
“Morning,” Filippo greets me as he walks into the room. “Did you get some sleep?”
What?
I don’t bother answering the bastard.
He types something on the laptop, and when the other man from yesterday enters the room, Filippo says, “Morning, Manny. Give her a bathroom break before we get started.”
Manny unwinds the rope from the hook, and I’m lowered to the floor. The strain in my arms relents when I’m finally able to bring them down, but then a sharp pain shoots through my shoulders.
Jesus.
I can’t stop a gasp from escaping my lips.
The rope remains around my wrists, and Manny uses it as a leash while shoving me forward so I’ll start walking. My legs feel numb, but I manage to put one foot in front of the other.
Even though pins and needles are spreading through my arms, I grab hold of the piece of paper and rip it away from my stomach. Crumpling it, I throw it to the floor.
Bastards.
Lifting my chin high, I walk out of the room.
“Go right,” Manny orders as he shoves me from behind, making the burns on my back sting.
I clench my jaw and walk down a dimly lit hallway.
“Up the stairs,” he snarls.
It’s so cold my body trembles uncontrollably, but I don’t want to show them I’m freezing and resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself.
Once I reach the top of the stairs, he again orders, “The door on your left.”
I walk into a small restroom that reeks as if it’s never been cleaned.
Dio. I hope I don’t catch an STD from the seat.
When I turn around to close the door, I mutter, “The rope.”
Manny shakes his head.
