Page 41 of Vows of Silence

Every part of me hurt like hell, but there didn’t appear to be any lasting damage. I went through the checklist—wiggling my toes, rolling my ankles, bending my knees back and forth. Everything was working as it should, even if it screamed and begged me to stop. Nothing was broken. I would mend.

Provided I got the fuck out of here.

He kidnapped me.

The thought kept circling through my mind, impossible to fully process. Now that I’d had time to assess the damage, I’d remembered exactly what had happened.

Silas Falcone had kidnapped me.

Panic surged higher at the thought of his name, reminding me who I was dealing with.

I stumbled towards the door, ignoring the way my body protested every movement, and grabbed hold of the handle with both hands. It didn’t move.

Locked.

Of course it was locked. And this time, there was no Luca to rescue me.

Although Luca required electronics to hack. Not even he could get through whatever industrial-strength lock Silas had fitted to that door.

“Open the fucking door!” I screamed, slamming my fists against the metal hard enough to sting. “Do you hear me? Let me out!”

No one answered me. I tried again, my voice sounding more and more hoarse with every word.

Still nothing—not even the odd footsteps or voices in the distance.

Nothing except my own ragged breathing bouncing back at me.

I hit the door again anyway, weaker this time.

“Please…”

Still nothing.

The fight drained from me as quickly as it had appeared. My knees buckled, and I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, pulling my legs tightly against my chest despite the pain screaming through my ribs.

No one was coming.

That truth settled horribly inside me.

My parents probably thought I was dead. But Marco? Marco would lose his fucking mind.

And Adrien…

I honestly didn’t know what Adrien would do. He was probably more pissed off at the hit this took to his reputation—all the money in the world, and he couldn’t keep one woman safe? That had to be a blow to his ego.

And Frank…

The memory of the gunshot hit me so suddenly I doubled over, pressing a shaking hand over my mouth as nausea rolled violently through me.

Frank was dead.

I’d watched it happen. I’d seen the blood splatter. I remembered the ear-shattering sound of the gun.

Above all else, I remembered the way the silver mask had calmly turned back towards me afterwards, as though murdering someone in front of me meant absolutely nothing to him.

A knock sounded on the door behind me. My entire body jerked in response, scrambling back over to the bed, using the wooden post to help pull myself to my feet.

The lock disengaged.