“I know thosewerethe rules,” Scorpion concedes. “Until they came after Isla.”
“She’s not a member of the family.” Alessio downgrades me even further.
I try not to allow that barb to find its way into my heart. It’s pointless anyway, feeling bad about it. Alessio is only speaking the truth. I don’t belong here. I know it, and he knows it. But somehow, it stings anyway.
“Sheisfamily to Luna,” his brother counters, “and that means she is to us too. The Russians know this. That’s why they were using her to get to us. They started this war, and now I’m going to fucking finish it.”
“What are we going to do with the sister?” Alessio demands. “We can’t keep her here.”
“I’m getting a place ready. It’s upstate, and no one’s going to find us there.”
“But what are your plans for her after that?”
There’s steel in Alessio’s voice, the bite of warning.
Scorpion flicks a glance in my direction. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
Alessio looks at me. “Isla, want to get Cid situated in the laundry room? It’s the third door down, on the left. Should be food and water stocked in there, his bed, his bowls, the whole deal.”
He doesn’t want me to witness this. I’m being dismissed. I’m good enough for his bed but not part of the family. Not trusted with their secrets.
To be fair, I guess if I overheard something and was called to testify against them, I’d have no choice but to do so. He’s only protecting the family. Maybe even me. But I’m still feeling raw.
“Fine,” I say tightly and go back to where I left poor Cid abandoned in his carrier after I heard the screams.
He rubs his face against the mesh on the front flap and offers me a loud meow of protest as I approach.
“Hey there, little guy.” I scoop up his carrier and go in search of the laundry room as Alessio and Scorpion continue arguing.
True to his word, Alessio has made sure the laundry room is stocked with all Cid’s necessities. The litter box is already set up. There’s a scratching post and his favorite stacked tower with colorful balls that he loves batting in circles. I unzip his carrier and he shoots out, relieved to be free.
I can’t blame him, but little does he know, this place isn’t exactly freedom. It’s more like a prison.
“Home sweet home for now,” I tell him, giving his head a gentle scratch.
He’s soft and fluffy, and he instantly starts to purr. At least I have someone here who values me, even if he’s onlyeight pounds and a foot tall. I’m trying to keep my panic at a minimum. But now that I’m finally here, in the last place I wanted to be, surrounded by walls and no windows, the tightness in my chest is starting to grow.
On the way here, I was still in shock over everything that went down. But now that the dust is settling—with the notable exception of the screaming Russian captive—I can’t keep my mind off the fact that I’m locked underground. The more I try to focus on something else, the more persistent my uncomfortable awareness is.
I feel trapped.
Old panic resurges.
I tell myself I’m going to fight it off. That I can control the anxiety, the panic. Taking a deep breath, I pick up Cid’s bowls. He’s accustomed to them being in the kitchen. I want to make everything as normal as possible for him, because God knows I can’t do that for myself.
But the panic is strong, clawing at my throat. As I make my way back down the hall, my vision is getting darker around the edges, until it’s as if I’m walking down a tunnel. Blood roars in my ears. My heart pounds, and my mouth is dry.
Somehow, I manage to fill Cid’s bowl with spring water and get him his food. He instantly starts to devour it, and maybe it’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about how I’m now inhabiting a windowless space, that I’m God knows how many stories underground. Or maybe it’s the poor Russian woman whose muffled outrage is still reaching me from down the hall. Could be the hell I went through earlier today—waking up helpless to a psychotic Bratva intruder, the bomb that went off…
God. It’s all so messed up.
I’m not sure which one of these things triggers me. All I do know is that the band around my chest is tightening. Thepressure is painful, and it’s official. Whatever the source, I’m having another panic attack.
I slump onto the floor, put my head between my knees, and try to breathe.
Saint
By the timeI finish with Scorpion and go off in search of Isla, I find her curled up on the floor of the kitchen. Shit. Seeing her like this hits me the same way as seeing her naked and handcuffed to my bed, knowing she was at another man’s mercy, did.
