“What the hell do you think I’m going to try? There are no windows and a steel door. We both know I’m going nowhere unless…you let me go.” I press my mouth to his ear. “You know Ben won’t stop looking for me. Let me go, and whatever the Russians have promised you, I will get Ben to match,” I whisper. “Or, if it’s money you’re after, I have plenty. Whatever you want, I will give it to you.”
“You think I want your money?” He spits out the word, and his nostrils flare. I clearly hit a nerve. “This is about respect, and if Ben and Leo had any for me, I would have been treated better.”
“They respect you,” I protest. “Ben would not have had you guarding Rowan and me otherwise.”
“You think that job is a job any soldier wants? I was relegated to the sidelines, like I have been for years. All it would take is Leo or his father speaking up for me, and I would have been promoted. But they made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.” He scoffs. “My new boss recognized my value immediately. Offered me the promotion I have been hankering after for years.” He puffs out his chest. “Now I’m a capo, and the sky is the limit.”
I can’t even dignify that load of bull with a response. If he’s that stupid, let him wallow in it until Ben puts a bullet in his skull. I don’t know everything there is to know yet, but Ben has spoken about the importance of loyalty and honor and how omertá is their code of silence. I know breaking the oath he swore means he has signed his own death sentence. I wonder if his new boss values him enough to protect him when the weight of the Mazzone famiglia comes down on him.
“Here,” B says, reentering the room, holding out a blanket.
Ian grabs it off him, dismissing him coldly. “Go watch the camera,” he snaps, reaching up to unchain my other wrist.
My arms rejoice as they hang by my sides, still aching but glad to be free of the shackles. With gentle fingers, I probe the torn skin at my wrists.
“Eat, and then I’ll bring you something for that,” Ian says, kicking the tray across the floor with his foot. Liquid sloshes out of the bowl, onto the tray, and the bottle of water tips onto its side.
I sit down, pulling my knees up to my chest, as I drag the tray over. Ian throws the blanket at me and turns to walk off. He stops at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “You should know I’m not working for the Russians. I work for your father.” With that bombshell delivered, he exits the room, slamming the door shut. I stare straight ahead, openmouthed, my eyes wide in shock as he locks it from the outside.
Surely, he’s lying, right? My father wouldn’t do this. I mean, I know he hates me, but he wouldn’t stoop this low. Would he?
Time loses all meaning, and I don’t know, for sure, how many days have passed since they kidnapped me. With no windows, I can’t see the sky to know if it’s daytime or nighttime. The only measure I have is my meals, which are delivered like clockwork at regular intervals.
B enters my cell and deposits my dinner tray on the floor beside me before walking off without speaking. This is my third dinner, so I’m working on the probability it’s my third day here.
That first day, I deliberated eating for ages, paralyzed in shock and fear. But I realized if they wanted me dead they would have just killed me. The fact I’ve been kidnapped means someone wants me alive, so I figure the food is probably safe to eat. Briefly, I considered not eating in protest, but I need to keep my strength up if I’m to stand any chance of getting out of here.
I don’t know if Ian said what he said about my father to throw me, but I have veered back and forth over his claim, deciding my father is more than capable of it but struggling to understand why. I know he’s in bed with the mafia. I know The Outfit was reluctant to join The Commission, and the only conclusion I can draw is that my father is using me to force Ben into doing something. I could be wrong, but that’s the best I’ve come up with.
I pull the blanket up over my shoulders to ward off the perpetual chill, and my fingers brush against my upper arm, feeling the small tracking device under my skin. It’s minuscule, and no one would find it unless they knew it was there. I’m hoping Ben can get a signal from the chip and he’s on his way for me. I try not to think about the fact it’s been three days and I’m still here. In moments when I let my fear loose, I worry The Outfit has done something to Ben and that is why he hasn’t come for me yet, but I try to keep those thoughts at bay because they don’t help.
I run the tip of my finger over my diamond and emerald ring, and it’s the only glimmer of light in my newly dark world. Worry for Rowan is at the forefront of my mind all the time, and I can only imagine how scared he must be. We have only spent one night apart, and I know my absence must be frightening for him. If my father has taken him or done anything to hurt my son, I will hunt him down and murder him myself.
I eat the bland beef stew, stale bread roll, and plain yogurt before washing it all down with warm water. Pushing my tray away, I scrape my ratty hair back off my face, plaiting it with cold shaky fingers. I feel disgusting having not showered, and I’m still wearing the jeans, sweater, and sneakers I was wearing when I was taken.
The sound of muffled voices mixes with approaching footfalls, and I scramble to my feet, crossing my arms and waiting for whichever guards deem to grace me with their presence this time. Besides Ian, B, and Z, five other guards have attended to me. I guess they must be rotating shifts.
The door flies open, and I blink profusely, sure my eyes must be deceiving me, because I must be imagining the familiar woman standing beside Z.
I stare at her pristine pink Chanel skirt suit and high heels. Her blonde hair is styled in sleek waves that tumble over her shoulders, and her makeup is plastered on her tight face. A string of pearls rests on her collarbone, and she holds a small black and pink clutch purse in one hand.
Her nose wrinkles in distaste as her eyes roam the small cell before landing on me. An ugly sneer tilts the corners of her cosmetically enhanced mouth before her lips part and she speaks. “You have no idea how long I have waited to see you languishing in the gutter where you belong, sister.”
Her cruel words wash over me, along with all the other mean things Saskia has ever said to me. But it is the acknowledgment that my father is behind my kidnapping that threatens to cripple me the most. Saskia would not be here otherwise, and it’s clear they are in this together.
She steps right up but keeps her distance, grimacing at the state of my filthy clothes and my stringy hair. “You should have listened to me, and maybe fate would have been kinder to you, but you always think you know best.” Her eyes glimmer with pure evil, and I am seeing my sister stripped bare now. There is no more hiding the full extent of the poison that flows through her veins. She revels in it, not wishing to shield anything from me. “I always win, baby sister, but this may be my greatest triumph yet.”
51
SIERRA
“You won’t be needing that anymore,” Saskia says, grabbing my hand and wrenching my engagement ring off my finger before I can stop her. Throwing it to the ground, she stands on it, using her stiletto heel to attack the diamond. Frustrated when it only inflicts minimal damage, she spins around, pointing at Z. “You! Get me a hammer.”