My family is gone, and this incompetent piece of shit lost them.
A buzzing fills my ears. My vision tunnels. All I see is Nina’s terrified face. Austin’s small hands. And a fucking van door slamming shut.
I hang up and jam the car into gear, tires shrieking as I rocket out of the lot. The wheel jerks under my hands, but I don’t loosen my grip.
“What’s happening?” Dario grabs the door handle as I take a corner too fast. “The address?—”
“Forget the professor.”
“What? Why?”
I look at him, letting him see just how far past reasoning I am. “My son and his mother just got taken.”
The speedometer hits ninety on a surface street. Still not fast enough.
I’m coming, Austin. Nina. Hold on.
And whoever took you better pray the cops find them first. Because when I get my hands on them, I’m going to make them understand what happens when someone touches what’s mine.
I’m going to make them beg for hell.
35
NINA
I’ve survived foster care,an abusive marriage, and six years of single motherhood, but I’ve never been this scared in my life.
When Austin collapsed on the soccer field, terror had ripped through me like lightning. But at least I knew help was coming. Paramedics, doctors, people who could fix what was broken. Right now, stumbling along with a bruising grip on my arm and fabric cutting off my vision, I have no guarantees.
No promises that anyone’s coming at all.
Alessio will try to find us. I know that as surely as I know my own name. But what if his skills and resources aren’t enough? What if we’re already too far gone, hidden too well?
This is what I was afraid of when I learned what he really is. Not him, but this world. The enemies that come with loving a man like Alessio DeLuca.
The man shoving us forward hasn’t spoken since he forced us into the van. Black ski mask, no words, just rough hands and zipties that bite into my wrists. When the van finally stopped, he blindfolded us before dragging us out.
Austin cried during the ride, and I pulled him into my lap, his small body shaking against mine. I whispered reassurances I wasn’t sure I believed, but that’s what mothers do. We lie beautifully when we have to.
Now we’re being dragged somewhere that smells like mildew and decay. I can hear a train in the distance, but it’s too far away to be useful. The ground under my feet changes from pavement to something grittier, and then we’re going down stairs.
I keep one hand on Austin’s arm, steadying him so he doesn’t trip. The last thing we need is for him to get hurt on top of everything else.
“Stay here,” our captor finally speaks.
There’s something familiar about his voice that makes my stomach clench, but I don’t have time to process it because Austin’s breathing is getting worse. Louder. More labored.
A door thunks shut. I tear the blindfold loose and yank Austin’s off too. Light slams into my eyes and then the world narrows.
Shit.It’s exactly what I was afraid of.
Austin is pale, his lips that telltale shade of blue I’ve learned to fear. His breathing comes in short, panicked gasps, each one more labored than the last. I can see his pulse hammering frantically in his neck, visible proof that his damaged valve is struggling to keep up.
Another heart episode, triggered by the stress of this nightmare. Worse, he’s supposed to take his evening medication with dinner, and we’re God knows where, with God knows who.
“It’s okay, bud. Look at me.” I cup his face with my bound hands, feeling how clammy his skin has become. “Remember what Dr. Murphy taught us? Four counts in, hold for two, four counts out. Just like we practiced.” I wipe away tears I wish I could absorb into my own skin.
“I can’t.” His voice is barely a whisper. “My chest hurts, Mom.”
