Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Is he answering?” Dante asks someone.
“Nothing yet. Calls are going right to voice mail. He must have his phone off.”
“Charlie,” Dante says as I’m loaded into something. Whoever is lifting the stretcher is not careful but I’m drifting again. “Do you have my uncle’s private number? My phone is dead, and I don’t remember it.”
A sense of dread washes over me. Why is he trying to call him? He shouldn’t. I need to warn him but I’m not sure why.
“We’ll wait to call him when Cristiano is awake and alert,” Charlie says.
“Fuck that. Fuck. He needs to know he’s alive. Fuck!”
“It can wait. He can wait.”
“No, he can’t.”
“What’s the urgency, Dante?”’
That dread is back.
“David sends his regards.”
I swallow. Even that fucking hurts. “No.” It comes out a groan as I fight whatever has me in this sleep state.
“Cris?” Dante asks. We’re in a moving vehicle. I feel that much. “Come on, man. I thought you were fucking dead. Please wake the fuck up!”
“Dante. Take it easy,” the doctor says. “He’ll wake up soon. I gave him something to hurry it along as much as I safely can.”
“How long?” Dante asks.
“Couple of hours.”
“We may not have a couple of hours.”
“We’ll get him to the island. To his own bed. Scarlett being there will help,” Charlie says.
Scarlett.
“If you die, she dies.”
I feel my hands fist at least a little. It feels like that time I heard Lenore and David talking. I was waking up. It was a memory. I know now. I’m sure.
Betrayed. He betrayed me twice. But why did he let me live? Why not kill me, too? Why not kill Dante and me both?
“She’s not there,” my brother says, his tone more quiet.
“What do you mean she’s not there?” Charlie asks.
The vehicle takes a turn. I swear I feel every fucking thing in my side where Rinaldi managed to stab me before I killed him.
“Dante?” It’s Charlie again.
“David took her. We thought he was dead. Someone told him Rinaldi had killed Cristiano and he took her.”
David has Scarlett?
“Took her where?” Charlie asks.
“Fuck.” Silence. Weighted silence I can feel. “I don’t know.”
Something begins to beep frantically, and I feel hands on me, the doctor telling Dante and Charlie to back off.
“He said he knew exactly what to do with her,” Dante says so quietly that I almost don’t hear.
“You let him take your brother’s wife?”
“I thought…he told me Cris was dead! I thought she’d betrayed him. Tipped off Rinaldi. I thought…Fuck!”
30
Scarlett
I blink my eyes open, looking up at the ceiling of a dimly lit, small room. It takes me a moment to remember what happened. To remember that Cristiano is dead. And that his brother handed me off to David who will now sell me back to the cartel.
This is my punishment because they think I betrayed Cristiano.
Not that either of them would have let me live, even if I could have convinced them that I hadn’t. They hate me because I am a De La Cruz.
At least Noah is safe. But is he? How long has it been? Is he still in Naples waiting for me to come?
I turn my head to look around the room. I’m alone but there’s a camera set up directly across from the bed. The red light is blinking. I’m either being recorded or someone’s watching me now.
There’s a chair in the far corner and two doors, both closed. The wooden doors are old, splintering. This whole place feels forgotten. A red neon light blinks outside from a street sign. The ratty yellowed lace curtain, only half-hanging off the rod, barely filters the red light as raindrops tap softly on the glass.
I try to pull my arm in, but I can’t. I look up to find my right wrist is handcuffed to the bed.
At least I’m not naked. That’s something, right?
“Hell, if he’s really smart, if he really wants to make that example hit home, maybe he’ll just have the men line up and take turns. Just think about that.”
My eyes fall on that camera again.
Maybe he already sold me. Maybe Felix has me here awaiting my fate, the camera ready to record every minute of my degradation. Ready to broadcast for anyone who misses the live show.
I shudder, sit up, drawing my knees in toward my body. It’s cold in the room. My arm hurts where he gave me the shot and a tiny bruise has formed. But that’s the least of my problems.
This can’t be about me anymore. I’m dead, I know that. The only thing standing between me and death was Cristiano and he’s gone. I can’t think about that now. I can’t think about the loss of him.
At least I got Noah out, I tell myself again. Turning my face away from the camera so they don’t see the few tears slip out before I can stop them.