CHAPTER 1
Elena
“Help me!” I scream through the gag, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. My muffled cry only manages to draw the attention of my captor. Face obscured by a balaclava, he approaches the iron-barred cage that sits in the corner of the shabby apartment. I scream again, cowering against the far corner.
In the cramped space, I can’t stand up, or even stretch my legs all the way out. A sense of claustrophobia settles in. I sink further into the corner, my back pressed against the metal bars. Fear coats my skin in sticky sweat. The stench of cigarettes and moldy takeout containers mingles with my own pungent body odor.
I have no idea how long I’ve been here, held captive. Time is a blur of daylight to darkness to another horrifying dawn. Three days? Four? Longer?
The huge, broad-shouldered man leans over the cage. “Shut the fuck up. No one can hear you. No one’s coming to rescue you.”
I whimper. Tears heat my cheeks.
Surely my family has realized I’m missing. They’re searching for me, right? They have to know that I didn’trun from the wedding, from my arranged marriage to Cian O’Rourke. Papa knows that, doesn’t he? He can’t blame me for this. It isn’t my fault that I was taken.
Panic seizes my chest. What if they think I ran away, and they’re waiting for me to come home?
What if this monster’s right, and no one is aware that I’m in need of rescuing? Will they leave me here to rot?
Being the eldest daughter of a powerful and feared mafia family comes with danger, it’s true, but that’s why I have soldiers to guard and protect me everywhere I go. I never should have insisted on running that quick errand alone on my wedding day. Though I wasn’t completely alone, my driver should have protected me. He would have, if he’d seen anything. But it all happened so fast. To him, I simply vanished into thin air, never to be seen again.
Another whimper leaves my throat. I’m going to die here, alone and scared, aren’t I?
My captor leans in, so close I can see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes. His nostrils flair. “You stink.”
He disappears into the other room for a minute, which I think is the kitchen from the sounds of pots and pans, and a running faucet. When he returns, he’s carrying a bucket of water.
My eyes widen, my heartbeat races as I try to scramble further away. The bars dig into my flesh, no doubt leaving bruises, but I don’t feel the pain. All I can think about is getting as far away from him as possible. I wish I were small enough to fit through these bars. Or better yet, I wish I were invisible.
“This should help.” His cold tone sends a shiver down my spine.
He upends the bucket over the cage. I gasp as icy water soaks me to the bone, and leaves me trembling with shock and horror. I’m not getting out of this alive, am I?
The front door opens and another masked man steps inside. The intensity of his gaze shakes me to the core. His eyes are soulless, like staring into the abyss of death.
“Hello, Elena.”
Gasping, I jolt awake, heart pounding as I blink at my surroundings. Citrus air freshener chases away the rancid scents of my nightmare—no not a nightmare, a terrible memory. One I’ve been trying to forget for years, but it lives on in my subconscious. Though not fully a memory either. My therapists told me that after a traumatic experience like that, the mind tries to protect itself by suppressing the memories. Which may be why snippets of that time haunt my dreams. I’m not entirely sure which parts are real and which aren’t.
“Miss Pontrelli?” The flight attendant hovers near my seat. “We’re about to land.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, still struggling to clear my head.
It’s been over four years since I was taken and held captive on what was supposed to be my wedding day to a stranger, to a man named Cian O’Rourke. Together we were destined to put an end to the war between our families. Which turned out to be the reason I was taken. Someone wanted to stop that alliance from happening.
What they didn’t realize was that I have an identical twin sister. She took my place at the altar that day. The rest is history. For the two of them, anyway.
When everything went south for my captors, they disappeared. I’ve spent four long years out of Manhattan, in Italy, hiding from them, afraid they’d come after me again. Afraid that them letting me go was some kind of cruel trick, or a joke. That once they had a purpose for me, they’d use me as leverage again—only this time I wouldn’t make it out alive. They’d be sure to finish what they started.
They didn’t want me dead. That’s why they dumped me on the side of the road once they realized their plan had gone terribly awry. From there, I was able to call my sister to come get me. She and her new husband showed up, and to Cian’s credit, he and his men never let this rest until it was over.
A few months ago, my last tormentor was finally caught and brought to justice by my sister and her husband. Now, I’m free.
They’re gone from this world and I’m safe. At least that’s what I tell myself every single day. They can’t hurt me anymore because they’re dead.
Every day, I’m grateful that the men who took me had no interest in molesting me. They never touched me like that. I realize my time in captivity could have been much worse.
Though the one thing that’s stayed with me all these years is knowing the truth about how my parents reacted. They thought I ran away, turned my back on my family duties, and practically wrote me off.
