Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
* * *
Alessia stares unseeing out the car window, drowning in tears she cannot stop. They flow freely as grief shrouds her misery.
Maxim and Caroline.
Caroline and Maxim.
Was what she experienced with him all a lie?
No! She can’t bring herself to think that. He said he loved her—and she had believed him. She still wants to believe him, but of course it doesn’t matter anymore. She’ll never see him again.
“Why are you crying?” Anatoli asks, but she ignores him. She doesn’t care what he does to her now. Her heart is in shreds, and she knows that it will never heal. He switches on the radio, and an upbeat pop song blasts over the speakers, jarring Alessia’s nerves. She suspects he’s done it to distract himself from her silent sobbing. Anatoli turns the volume down and hands her a box of tissues. “Here. Dry your eyes. Enough of this nonsense, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
She takes out a wad of tissues and continues to stare listlessly out the window. She can’t even bring herself to look at him.
She knows that she will die at his hands.
And there’s nothing she can do.
Maybe she can escape. In Europe. Maybe she can choose how she dies….She closes her eyes and drifts into her own version of hell.
* * *
“Go after her?” I ask, my mind racing.
“Yes.” Caroline is emphatic. “But I have to ask, what makes you think she’s been kidnapped?”
“Her note.”
“Note?”
“Here.” I hand her the crumpled piece of paper and turn away, rubbing my face, trying to gather my splintered thoughts.
Where will he take her?
Did she go willingly?
No. She only had revulsion for him.
He tried to break her fucking fingers!
He must have forced her to go.
How the hell did he find her?
“Maxim, this note doesn’t read like she’s been kidnapped. Have you thought that maybe she’s decided to go home?”
“Caro, she did not leave of her own free will. Trust me.”
I have to get her back.
Fuck.
I storm past Caroline and head into my drawing room.
“Fucking hell!”
“What now?”
“I don’t have a working fucking computer!”
* * *
“I need your passport,” Anatoli says as they speed through London’s streets.
“What?”
“We are driving to the Eurotunnel train. I need your passport.”
Eurotunnel. No!
Alessia swallows. This is real. It’s happening. He’s taking her back to Albania.
“I don’t have a passport.”
“What do you mean you don’t have a passport?”
Alessia stares at him.
“Why, Alessia? Tell me! Did you forget to pack it? I don’t understand.” He frowns.
“I was smuggled into this country by some men who took my passport.”
“Smuggled? Men?” His jaw clenches, and a muscle twitches in his cheek. “What is going on?”
She’s too tired and too broken to explain. “I don’t have a passport.”
“Fucking hell.” Anatoli smacks the steering wheel with his palm. Alessia flinches at the sound.
* * *
“Alessia, wake up.”
Something has changed. Alessia is confused.
Maxim?
She opens her eyes, and her heart sinks further into hell. She’s with Anatoli, and the car is at a standstill, parked on the side of the road. It’s dark, but by the glow of the headlights she can tell they are on a country road surrounded by frosted fields.
“Get out of the car,” he says. Alessia stares at him, and a small blossom of hope flowers in her chest.
He’s going to leave her here. She can walk back. She’s done it once before.
“Out,” he says more forcefully.
He opens his car door, climbs out, and comes around to her door, opening it wide. Taking her hand, he hauls her out of her seat and leads her to the back of the car, where he opens the trunk. It’s empty but for a small rolling suitcase and her duffel.
“You’ll have to get in here.”
“What? No!”
“We have no choice. You don’t have a passport. Get in.”
“Please, Anatoli. I hate the dark. Please.”
He frowns. “Get in or I’ll put you in.”
“Anatoli. Please. No. I don’t like the dark!” He moves quickly, picking her up, dumping her in the trunk, and slamming the lid shut before Alessia can fight back.
“No!” she shouts. It’s pitch-dark inside. She starts to kick and scream as the darkness bleeds into her lungs, suffocating her like the black plastic bag from the last time she crossed the Channel.
She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. She screams.
Not the dark. No. Not the dark. I hate the dark.
Seconds later the lid pops open and a blinding light shines in her face. She blinks. “Here. Take this.” Anatoli hands her a flashlight. “I don’t know how long the battery will last. But we have no choice. Once we are on the train, I can open the trunk.”
Stunned, Alessia takes the flashlight and holds it protectively to her chest. He moves her bag so that she can use it as a pillow, then shuffles out of his overcoat and lays it over her. “You may get cold. I don’t know if the heating works in here. Go back to sleep. And be quiet.” He gives her a stern look and shuts the trunk once more.