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Marcello hits Lazaro with an incredulous look. "Boinging?"
"You know," Lazaro says hastily, crossing his right leg over his left. "Just messing around. Not pleasuring yourself, but… boinging."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"You’re not a Little," Lazaro snaps, "you wouldn’t."
Marcello pats Lazaro’s shoulder. "It’s okay, Lazaro. Calm down."
"I am calm." Lazaro sticks out his tongue. "You two are the ones who need to take a chill pill."
I turn to Marcello. "I didnotsign up to take care of two Littles. That’s above my pay grade."
"Here," Lazaro says, handing me his nighty night sippy cup. "Have some juice. It’ll do wonders for your nerves."
Ignoring Lazaro, I head toward the bathroom. "Come out, Little Jericho. Your Daddies are worried about you."
I press my ear to the door, expecting to hear Jericho’s pleasant voice.
Nothing—silence. Hmmmm, well that’s strange.
I turn to my brothers. "I don't hear him."
Marcello gulps as he pries himself out of bed. "Uh oh. Did he actually fall into the toilet?"
"I knew we should’ve replaced it with a regular-sized potty." Lazaro pinches the bridge of his nose. "It’s too dangerous for Jericho."
I shake the door handle—it opens at once. Not locked. No one's inside.
My eyes narrow. "Jericho’s not in here."
"It’s not even seven in the morning." Marcello joins my side. "Where could he be?"
That’s when our phones buzz on our bedside tables.
Marcello and I rush back to our devices. We gulp when we read the texts.
We each have the exact same message.
UnknownNumber:You three are about to feel very… crabby… when you find out that we have your boy
ChapterEighteen
JERICHO
The metal claw grabs me next.
"Help!" I scream—but it’s too late.
It plunges me into the chilly Mediterranean water, sending my hair whooshing back. I gurgle and gasp, thrashing about, but it’s too late.
The claw drags me under the rocks and toward a black cylindrical submarine. A door opens, and ushers me, Faro and Giosuè, who must’ve been taken right after me, inside.
I cough as I’m deposited on a rubber floor, water falling off me in droves. I’m soaking wet—every part of me, from my hair to my socks.
Faro pries himself off the ground.
He also coughs, banging his chest as he glances around. "Where are we?"
