He turns to me, and I barely recognize that darkness in his face. He looks furious, as if I don’t give him his way, there’ll be hell coming. He’s never looked at me like this…ever. Whatever happened to the sweet Valentin I’d come to know?
Was that even his fucking name?
“Gela, listen to me. Those men are fucking dangerous. They're going to come after you now, and they won't stop.”
“I don't care! I'm calling the police.” I fumble for my phone in my pocket.
He snatches it away from me before I can even unlock the screen. “The police can't help you with this.”
“Then I’ll scream until someone comes,” I screech. “I’m not going with you. Give me my phone back!” I reach for it, but he holds it away from me.
“I'm trying to save your life,” he growls. “Now get in the car.”
“No.” I take a step back, remembering how he killed those men. The fear tangles in my throat, and while I want to believe he won’t hurt me, right now, my mind’s a spinning mess, and all I want is to get away from danger as safely as I can. “I'll take my chances. Thank you for... whatever that was, but I'm leaving now.”
I turn to run, but I don't make it two steps before his arm wraps around my waist, lifting me off my feet.
“Let me go!” I scream, kicking and twisting in his grip. “Help! Somebody help me!”
But my screams echo in the empty parking lot. Valentin carries me to his car and practically throws me inside, and before I can scramble out the other side, he's in the driver's seat and has the doors locked.
I swear, how the hell can a man move that first?
“This is kidnapping,” I hiss, my chest heaving with panicked breaths as I try my door, but it doesn’t budge. “You're kidnapping me!”
“I'm keeping you alive.” He begins to drive out of the parking lot. “If I hadn't shown up, you'd be dead already for your arrogance.”
My head spins, and I try to open the window, but even the lever for it is child-locked. “Please.” I turn to him, and my voice wavers. “Just let me go…please.”
“Can’t do that, don’t you get it?” he hisses and shifts a little to look back through the side-view mirror.
That's when I notice the gun jutting out of his pocket, and my hands begin to tremble.
“Are you going to kill me too?” My voice shakes like a leaf in the wind.
His eyes snap to mine, and he looks genuinely shocked. “No. Jesus, Gela. I would never hurt you.”
The irony of that statement, coming from a man who just shot three people in the head without blinking, isn't lost on me.
“Then let me go. Please,” my voice comes out in a pleading sob.
“I can't do that.” His voice is gentle now, like it’s always been with me, which somehow makes this whole thing even more surreal. “I’m only doing this to keep you safe.”
“Safe from what? I don't understand any of this!”
He takes a sharp turn and looks at me. “Those men are powerful criminals and own the building where your office is.”
My blood runs cold. “What? No. That's not possible.”
“It is. And I'm sorry you got pulled into this, but here we are. You've got to trust me, okay?”
He looks perturbed, but not worried enough, like shooting down men is an everyday occurrence for him. He takes a turn down another unfamiliar street, filled with run-down buildings with windows boarded up and graffiti-covered walls, and pulls up behind a worn-down red-brick.
“Where are we?” I ask after a while, and push myself as far into my seat as I can, the fear creeping back into my voice.
“You’ll be safe here.” He gets out, comes around to my door, and opens it. “Come on.”
“No!” I look at him like he’s crazy.
