Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Let go of me!” I squeal. “Help!”
The third one laughs. “Should’ve thought of that before you threatened us.” He undoes his belt buckle and pulls it free from his pants. “I think we need to teach you a lesson.”
My eyes widen as he flicks it around. “No!”
He approaches, and I continue to kick, but when he grabs my legs and wraps the belt around them, I’m helpless. Another one of the guys grabs the string hanging from his hoodie and rips it out, wrapping it tightly around my wrists. “Hold still, fucking whore!”
I spit on his face.
He punches me, and my head knocks back onto the hardwood floor.
Stars float in front of my eyes, and I fade in and out.
I vaguely feel someone fumbling at my pants, trying to get them off.
This can’t be happening. It just can’t.
“No one’s going to hear you now,” one of them whispers into my ear, and he shoves a stinky sock into my mouth.
Rage bubbles in my core as he reaches under my shirt, making me want to gouge his eyes out and rip his fingers off.
Suddenly, gunshots ring through the room.
I shriek, hoping, praying that the person who just entered will hear me and come rescue me.
The men get up, releasing me from their grip, and I spit out the disgusting sock. Some yelling ensues. I make myself as tiny as possible and close my eyes as the men disappear from sight. There’s more fighting and yelling. Gunshots follow, the bullets ricocheting off the walls.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Three bodies flop to the floor. One of them in my reach, just beyond the couch, with blood oozing from the socket that once contained his eye.
I squeal again and scrunch up my legs, backing away against the wall as footsteps loom closer.
The face of a man that appears is not one I recognize. But it’s not a young man, not like these drug addicts who tried to use me for their own pleasure. No. This one … this one looks menacing.
With his dark gray trench coat and thick sunglasses, he looks like he just stepped out of a goddamn movie.
And there is only one place I have seen men who look like this before.
Near Marcello.
I shudder in place. “Don’t come closer.”
The man lowers his gun and holds up a hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I frown because I don’t know if I can believe his words. When he approaches, I still skittishly hide behind the couch, despite the fact that I could do nothing to stop him from taking what he wants from me. My ankles and wrists are still tied.
“Please,” I mutter, hoping I can play on his emotions.
The man looks at me and lowers his sunglasses. He doesn’t have the eyes of a killer, and I don’t know why that surprises me. They’re full of compassion but also something else … something that reminds me of relief.
He kneels in front of me. “If I take these off, will you promise not to fight me?” he asks.
It takes me a while to decide, but I still nod in the end. I don’t want to cause more harm to myself, and I’m really not in a position to deny him. It’s going to be hard to get these off myself, and who knows what this man would do to me if I tried. Even if he said he wouldn’t hurt me, I don’t trust him not to if push comes to shove.
After all … he looks like he’s from the Mafia.
Did Marcello’s men already find me?
An inkling of hope swashes through me like a wave crashing onto my soul, and I hate what it does to me, how it makes me yearn for the safety and comfort of Marcello’s home.
But I must not let it tempt me.
The man in front of me undoes the belt laced around my feet first, then the string around my wrists. There are red marks all over my skin now, and it hurts. But at least my anger is quelled a little when I look at the druggie on the floor bleeding out of his brain.
“Are they dead?” I ask.
“You won’t be harmed by them,” he says, and he extends a hand.
I glare at it with great suspicion. “Who are you, and why did you come here?”
A soft smile forms on his face. “My name is Cillian.”
Finally, a name. I take his hand, and he lifts me from the floor.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
My heart sinks into my shoes. So I was right.
“Took us quite some time, but I’m glad,” he adds, and he grabs my arm and suddenly drags me along. “Come. We have to go before more of them arrive.”
I try to jerk myself loose, but his grip is too strong. “Wait. Where are you taking me?”
When he doesn’t reply, I slam a fist down on his arm, forcing him to let go. “Did Marcello send you?”