Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Lock the door and get the knife, Vivia,” Dario says, his voice as calm as if he were ordering pizza for a Friday night special. I can’t look at his blood-smeared mouth without wanting to vomit.
The man’s legs are twitching, and his face is purple. He’s…strangling him. He releases him only long enough to grab the guy by the hair. “You touched her hair. You bullied her. You acted as if she were yours.” He lifts the man’s shoulders and whacks his head on the unyielding floor. I flinch. “That’s for touching her.”
Calmly, unmercifully, as if he has only one job in the world now and he’s dedicated to seeing it through to the bitter end, he lays him back on the ground and wraps the rope back around his neck.
I stare, watching, horrified and fascinated. Dario barks at me to wake me out of my stupor. “Vivia. I said lock the door and get the fucking knife. Now.”
I look around me wildly and finally see the glint of a blade a few yards away. I grab it, then run to go lock the door when two more large, masked guys come in. Dario abandons the guy, who’s either passed out or dead, and launches himself toward me.
“Get behind me,” he growls. “Now.” His arm circles my waist, and he hauls me behind him as the other two quickly assess the situation and charge.
The first guy swings and Dario ducks as the second one comes in and reaches for me. I kick him between the legs but miss. He comes up swinging and connects his fist to my jaw. My head snaps back, stars blinding my vision from the pain and impact of it all.
“Come after me, motherfucker,” Dario fumes. “You leave her the hell alone.”
He knocks one guy on his ass as he puts himself directly between me and the guy about to attack me. I fall to the floor and cover my face in instinctual self-protection and flinch at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Dario sinks a vicious punch in the first guy’s jaw, swivels and kicks the second in the face so hard I hear a sickening crunch. He fights as if he were made for this, as if his body knows exactly when and how to bend, strike, and block, every move instinctual like a predator’s hunt.
Blood pours from his nose. Someone tears Dario’s shirt. Screams wail around us like the gnashing of teeth.
I hear a car approaching outside. Just one. No sirens. Could be damn near anything right now. Nothing would surprise me.
“Fuck! Fuck!”
One of the guys attacking Dario backs away, his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Jesus, man. Stop!”
Both men stop defending themselves against Dario. Dario blinks, as shocked as I am.
“He’s fucking Rossi!” One guy points with trembling hands at the now-visible rose on Dario’s arm. “Run! Get out of here!”
They scramble out of the room and Dario looks like he’s going to run after them, when he turns to me. “Someone’s coming,” I whisper. “I heard a car outside.”
“That’ll be Orlando. He got our signal and wasn’t far. We have to go, now.” His voice still commands, but he’s gentled the tone. “Are you hurt?”
Of course I am. My eyes are blurred, lacerations and welts cover my body. But my bones feel intact, still, and I think I’m okay this time.
“I’m—I think I’m okay,” I whisper.
He grabs my elbow and drags me to my feet. “You do exactly as I say while we get out of this place. Exactly.”
I can only nod my head.
All around us, they’re oblivious to our escape, as all run for their lives. There’s something about knowing they’ve mistakenly crossed into Rossi battle territory that’s put the fear of God in them.
I stumble out of the hold we were in with Dario. At first it seems like it’s some sort of landing within a warehouse by the wharf.
I blink in the bright overhead lighting. We’re not only on a wharf, we’re on a ship, and the men that were kidnapping us are leaving as fast as they can. One dives into the water, two more jump into a car park at the end of the pier as my cousin Orlando, huge and bigger than life, marches on the pier leading toward us bearing the largest gun I’ve ever seen. Right here in broad daylight as if defying someone to snap an Instagram shot or call the police.
He sees them trying to take off and lifts the gun. Tires squeal as they peel out of the lot to escape with their lives.
I cover my mouth with my hands. Dario grabs my arm and pulls me with him toward Orlando.
“No matter what happens, get to Orlando,” he says.
No matter what happens? What does he think will happen?
Orlando shoots as the car peels away. He shoots at the water until air bubbles rise, until the water’s coated red and no one surfaces again. Nausea grips my stomach.