Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
The man with the torch drops it. He makes a gagging sound. I don’t miss a second, not the faintest of breaths that fans over her lips or the disbelief that taints those muddy browns before her eyelids droop. The best moment of all, the one I savor the most, is when the light in them goes out.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Anya
* * *
“Here,” Livy says, handing me a glass of water where I sit behind Saverio’s desk in his study. “Drink this.”
I shake my head. The sight of the water alone makes my stomach convulse. My empty belly protests even though there’s nothing left to expel.
My mouth is dry, but the water won’t help. Just as sitting in Saverio’s chair doesn’t help. I don’t feel closer to him. The familiar worn leather seat doesn’t give me a sense of comfort or safety.
Nicole took over my pacing. She walks to the fireplace and back to the desk. “Why aren’t they calling? Shouldn’t they be there by now?”
I check my phone again. No messages.
“They’ll call when they can,” Livy says.
She changed into her nondescript, unbranded gray tracksuit and pulled her long hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck. Both the hairdo and the attire mirror her state of mind, which says she’s utterly depressed. Hopeless. Which is how I feel despite doing my best to stay positive.
Nicole wears a pair of my leggings and one of my hoodies. I changed into jeans and a sweater.
“I better go check on the guests,” I say.
“They’re fine.” Nicole stops in front of me with her hands on her hips. “Logan is taking care of them. You better stay here in case Sav calls.”
“Remind me to thank your husband.” I scrub my hands over my face. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. I never knew he could be such a drill sergeant.”
Nicole’s smile softens. “Mr. Wade is great. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him myself.”
I jump when my ringtone cuts through the space.
Nicole rushes around the desk to look over my shoulder while Livy freezes where she’s been wearing the thread of the carpet thin in front of the gate-facing windows.
“It’s an unlisted number,” Nicole announces for Livy’s sake, her voice tense.
Maybe Saverio is using a burner phone.
I put the phone on speaker and swipe the button to answer with my heart beating in my throat.
Everything inside me turns to ice when the caller says, “Hello, Anya.”
Raphael.
I look up, catching Nicole’s confused and panicked gaze. Livy pads over, her sneakers quiet on the carpet. As always, she’s the level-headed one. She’s calm and self-assured as she motions for me to speak.
“What do you want, Raphael?”
“Now that you’re alone, we can talk.”
“I’m not alone.”
He laughs. “Your husband left forty minutes ago.”
“You’re having the house watched,” I say with unconcealed hatred.
“Just as you’re having mine watched. Call us even.”
Not by a long shot.
“What do you want?” I ask again, trembling inside.
My brain connected the dots, but I don’t want my suspicion to be true.
“It’s not a question of what I want,” he says. “I think you’re the one who wants something rather badly.”
It takes a moment before his words sink in even though the truth already hit me when he said hello. My heart swings like a pendulum between my ribs, every beat physically hurting. “You took Claire.”
Nicole’s lips part on a silent gasp. What grounds me is Livy’s lack of panic. I hold on to her emotionless expression, deriving strength from her serenity.
“Technically, your mother took her,” he says. “But I’m the one who has her now.”
My mouth is so dry it’s difficult to swallow. “What do you want?”
“I want the video Elena gave to your husband, and I want to know where he’s hiding my pregnant wife.”
“It was me.” It’s vital that he believes me. “Elena gave that video to me, and I’m the one who helped her get away. Saverio had nothing to do with it.”
“If you’re lying, you and your daughter are dead.”
“I’m telling the truth. I know what’s at stake.” My voice doesn’t betray how close I feel to fainting. “I want proof that you have Claire.”
“I anticipated that.”
A photo drops in my messages. I click on the notification with a shaky finger. The image that stares back at me will haunt my nightmares forever. Raphael Morelli sits in a chair, rocking Claire in his lap. I can’t make out the background except for a bare concrete wall and a sealed window. It’s mostly dark.
It takes everything I have to stop my voice from breaking. I want to ask how she is, if she’s crying for me. If he fed her. If her diaper is dry. But all I manage to get out is, “Is she all right?”
“For now,” he says, his tone smug.
“Tell me where to meet you. I’ll bring what you want.”