I can't breathe. Can't think. Fear crashes through me, making me feel as if I’m drowning.
"Here's what's going to happen," Desmond continues conversationally. "You're going to come with me. Nice and quiet. No screaming, no fighting. If you cooperate, I might let you live long enough to see what I have planned for your brother and your lover."
"I'm not going anywhere with you." I try to sound brave, but my voice shakes.
"Oh, I think you will." He raises the gun, pointing it directly at my chest. "Because the alternative is I shoot you right here, right now. And I don’t think you want to die."
I glance toward the nightstand, looking for my phone. If I could get to it, if I could somehow call Elio?—
Desmond follows my gaze and laughs. "Looking for this?"
He pulls the phone from his pocket with his free hand and tosses it to the floor. Then he brings his boot down on it,crushing it into pieces. I close my eyes. I must have left it downstairs.Fuck.
"Elio's not going to save you, sweetheart. Neither is your brother. You're all alone now. Just you and me."
"They'll find me." I force the words out. "They'll come for me."
"I'm counting on it." His smile widens. "That's the whole point. You see, I've been thinking a lot about revenge lately. About how to hurt the people who've hurt me. And I realized—I want them to suffer.Reallysuffer. I’m not mad about the marriage. Really. I think my new plan is much better, actually.”
He takes another step closer, and I press back against the wall.
"I'm going to take you somewhere safe," he continues. "And then I'm going to let them know exactly who has you. I'm going to make them come for you, make them desperate and reckless. And when they arrive—" He makes a gun gesture with his free hand. "Bang. I'll kill them both while you watch."
"No." The word comes out as a sob. "Please?—"
"Please what?" He smiles cruelly. "Please don't hurt the man who stole what was going to be mine? Please don't kill the brother who's responsible for neglecting my sister? For her death? Why should I show them mercy when they've shown me none? When they haven’t given a single shit about whatI’vebeen through.”
"This isn't about them." I'm crying now, tears streaming down my face. "This is about me. If you want revenge, take it out on me. Let them go."
"But that wouldn't hurt enough." He rocks back on his heels, the gun still trained on me. "See, if I just killed you, they'd be sad. They'd mourn. But they'd move on eventually. But if I make them watch you suffer, make them try and fail to save you, make them live with the knowledge that they got you killed—that'sgoing to hurt so much more before they die. I think you’re right, actually. I’ll make them watch while I enjoy you. I’ll hurt you while I do it. And then I’ll let you bleed out, just on the edge of death, before I kill them. I’ll make sure they know they failedandmake sure you watch them die. That you watch each other die.”
"You're insane,” I whisper, my face pale. I feel cold, shaking all over.
"Maybe." He strides forward and grabs my arm, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "But I'm going to get my revenge. Now move."
He drags me toward the door, and I try to resist, try to pull away. But he's stronger than I am by far, and the gun pressed against my ribs is a very effective persuader. I don’t think he’ll kill me yet, but he could hurt me. I’m afraid of that—afraid of pain, no matter how much I’d like to pretend otherwise.
I have to believe Elio will find me. Or Ronan. That someone will come for me.
I can’t give up hope. Especially not now.
Desmond drags me out into the hall, where his men are waiting. There are bodies scattered everywhere and blood on the floor—fresh blood—and I have to swallow back bile. I see Diane, crumpled near the stairs, and let out a strangled cry.
"Where are you taking me?" I manage to gasp through the welling tears as he drags me down the stairs.
"Somewhere special." He pulls me through the back door and out into an alley. There's a van waiting, engine running, and two men inside. "You'll see when we get there."
He shoves me toward the van, and one of the men opens the back door. I can see zip ties and duct tape inside, and fresh terror spikes through me.
"Get in."
"No." I try to pull back, but his grip is iron. "Please, Desmond?—"
"I said get in." He raises the gun, pressing it against my temple. "Or I'll go ahead and knock you out, and send pieces of you to your brother as a message. Your choice."
I get in.
The men tie my wrists behind my back, the plastic cutting into my skin. They tape my ankles together, then push me down onto the floor of the van. Desmond climbs in beside me, gun still in hand, and the door slams shut.
