Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
But would he have had me branded and sent me here? To this psychopath? To do what? What had he said? That he would train me. Train me for the slave auction.
Slave auction.
No. Angus Scava would not have ordered this. This was Victor acting alone.
I blinked, trying to turn onto my back but unable to. It was like I was too heavy to move. The pills must have been some sort of muscle relaxer and the dosage too high. I guessed that was his intention, though. To incapacitate me. It would be easier to control me if I couldn’t fight back.
I thought of my captor, the man in the mask. That horrible mask. I couldn’t even see his eyes apart from a hint of them, a glint of color. Blue or gray. I couldn’t tell for sure. I hadn’t needed to see them to know the wickedness there, the cruelty. But there was more. When he’d raised his hand to slap me and then had stopped—that was when I’d felt it. Then, and when he’d seen the mark on my hip. A momentary reprieve, a pause in the middle of madness.
I mentally shook my head at myself. I was grasping at straws, needing to hope. The man who had me, he was no better than Victor or any of his soldiers. He was readying me to be sold as a fucking slave. I had no doubt what that entailed.
I’d been afraid he’d rape me. When he’d pulled my panties off, I’d thought that was it. He was going to do it. Victor hadn’t. He hadn’t let his men do it either. Why? Why not let them? Wasn’t that what he wanted? To break me? To—what had he said—“see me on my knees?”
Maybe it was his deal with Mateo before he’d killed him that saved me from the horror of rape.
I closed my eyes against the image of Mateo before he’d died, forcing it away. I didn’t want to remember my brother that way. I needed to hold on to him as he’d been before—in life. Before he’d ever met Victor. Before everything had happened.
Why hadn’t Victor let his men rape me? Why hadn’t he done it himself? It made no sense. He wanted me. That was obvious. Had been for the two years I’d had the displeasure of knowing him.
Auction.
Slave.
When I woke next, I could roll onto my back and raise heavy arms just inches off the bed on which I still lay naked.
I had to figure out where I was. Who the man was who currently had me. He was going to train me, so he’d probably been hired by Victor. Train me for what, though? To not fight? I’d never stop. I’d never let them win. I’d never let Victor win.
I wondered if Angus Scava knew what he’d done. He’d kill Victor if he knew, I was sure of it. I’d almost been his daughter-in-law, after all. I’d been engaged to James, his son. James had loved me. No way Angus Scava would ever allow this to happen to me.
I thought back to James. To how good things had been two years ago. Before he’d been killed. Before Victor had come into the picture. I wondered about my mom. Did she know about Mateo yet? Did she know we were missing at least, even if she didn’t know he was dead? She was in Palermo, and although we weren’t particularly close, surely she’d try to phone.
The deadbolt slid, the sound calling my attention.
For the first time in a very long time, I thought of the man who had promised my father he would protect my family. The man my father had worked for, and for whom he had died. He’d vowed to keep me and Mateo safe. Could he save me from this?
But that was years ago. And a promise to a foot soldier couldn’t have meant a whole lot to a crime boss.
The door creaked open.
I blinked, lifting my head as much as I could, and watched as my captor filled the doorway. He was a foot taller than me and strong. I’d never physically be able to take him down. And if he kept me drugged, I wouldn’t be able to do much at all.
Light outlined his body from the outside room, creating a sort of halo around his head. I squinted, used to the dark now, and when he closed the door, I saw his face again—saw that mask. A skull. Death. As if he were death.
I made a small sound, and my body instinctively tried to pull back. Tried. Nothing much happened, though. Nothing but him stepping closer, chuckling. He must have seen the attempt. He seemed to see everything.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, and when I saw the bottle of water in his hand, I opened my mouth, realizing how dry it was, how thirsty I was.