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“Nah. She’s here.”
Thank fuck.
“She’s not quite as mouthy as usual, but if looks could kill, we’d all be a pile of ash.”
I love Lana’s brazen, outspoken ways, but God, I hope she doesn’t mouth off to them.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
“We’ll be here. You and me, partner. Ending the D’Amato reign of terror.”
I hang up and make a U-turn toward the address Peter gave me and hope against all hope that I’ll come up with a plan to save her.
29
LANA
Panic floods through me as a blindfold is roughly tied over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. Then the engine of the car roars to life. I try to steady my breathing as we drive, trying to memorize every turn and sound. But it's useless. We drive for what feels like hours, the silence broken only by my captors' occasional murmurs.
Finally, the vehicle slows to a stop. Rough hands yank me out, and I stumble, disoriented. The ground beneath my feet changes from pavement to what feels like dirt or gravel.
"Welcome to your new home, Miss D'Amato," one of them sneers. "Hope you enjoy your stay."
The blindfold is ripped from my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim light. As my vision clears, I take in my surroundings. I'm in what appears to be a basement—cold, damp, and musty. Bare concrete walls surround me, with a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling casting eerie shadows.
I try to move. I’m pushed against the wall and my cuffed arms forced over my head, where Dickhead Rogers latches the cuffs to something that holds me in place, leaving me in an awkward, painful position.
"Comfortable?" Dickhead asks.
I glare at him, refusing to show fear. "You won't get away with this. My family will find me."
He laughs, a cold, humorless sound that sends chills down my spine. "Oh, we're counting on it. But by then, it'll be too late for you."
His words make me think that maybe he doesn’t have Elio and Matteo, after all. Otherwise, he’d gloat, right?
As he turns to leave, panic starts to set in. I struggle against the chains, but it's useless. They're too strong, and I'm completely immobilized.
The door slams shut, leaving me in near darkness. The only sound is the clanking of my chains as I shift, trying to find a less painful position. But it's impossible. My shoulders already ache from the strain.
I close my eyes, fighting back tears of frustration and fear. I need to stay strong, to think. There has to be a way out of this.
The door opens again, and this time, several men walk in. My heart sinks as I recognize Detective Hartley, Henry's partner. His eyes are cold, filled with hatred. Next to him stands Dickhead and the other cop from the search in my office.
When Henry told me cops might be involved in Lazaro’s disappearance, did he know about Detective Hartley? A kernel of doubt takes root about Henry. Surely, he’d have warned me if he knew specific cops were involved.
Dickhead Rogers steps closer, a leering grin on his face. "Well, well, Miss D'Amato. I’ve been looking forward to this moment."
I try to keep my face impassive, but inside, my stomach churns with disgust and fear. His eyes roam over my body, making me acutely aware of my vulnerability.
“Think of all the fun we're gonna have. It will be nice, I promise. I’ll make you feel good before your life ends.”
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to recoil as he reaches out to touch my face. Hartley's voice cuts through the tension. "That's enough. We're not here for your sick fantasies."
The cop backs off, but his words have done their job. My fear has skyrocketed, and I have no doubt it’s going to get worse before it’s over.
Lifting my chin, I meet Hartley's gaze with a defiant glare. "You're pathetic. Hiding behind badges and chains. Is this the only way you can feel powerful?"
Hartley's eyes narrow, but I don't flinch. If I’m going to die, I’m going out kicking and screaming.
