The last thing I see before everything goes dark are those stupid Christmas lights blinking above the street.
I wake up in the back of a moving van.
My wrists are locked in metal handcuffs that dig into my skin.
My head pounds like someone took a hammer to my skull.
I blink and try to sit up, but the movement sends my stomach rolling.
I taste metal in my mouth and then feel an ache on my tongue, like I've bitten myself.
Sofia sits next to me.
Her hands are bound with plastic zip ties.
Her face is streaked with tears that have dried into pale tracks on her dust-covered cheeks.
She shakes so hard I can see her whole body trembling even in the dim light coming through the van's back windows.
When she sees me awake, she starts crying again.
Fresh tears spill over and her breath comes in short gasps.
"Mama," she whispers hoarsely, and her voice cracks.
I try to shift closer, but everything hurts. "I'm here,Amore. It's okay. I'm right here."
It is not okay.
Nothing about this situation qualifies as okay.
But I can't let her see my panic.
I can't let her know that my heart is pounding against my ribs so hard it hurts to breathe.
That every fear I've had since the day I found out I was pregnant with her is come to be reality and I'm to blame for this.
They came for me, not her, but here she is.
One of the masked men sits across from us on a bench seat.
He leans back against the wall of the van and watches us like we are cargo he needs to deliver in acceptable condition.
The other man drives.
I can hear him on the phone up front, speaking in rapid Corsican that comes too fast for me to catch more than scattered words.
Something about a delivery.
Something about the schedule.
I know bits of Corsican, but as I've taught myself languages, it isn't one that I've focused on.
I'm angry with myself now for not preparing better.
I knew this day would come, when Antonelli Gerard would hunt me down and demand that I pay my debt.
That other man gave Gerard money, but he was never satisfied that he didn't get what he wanted. Me.
