I nod, because she’s right. I know she is. I don’t know what to do yet. I want to go home and wait, but I don’t know how long I can sit with this fear before it breaks me.
She leaves me alone with my thoughts. I’m about to stand and clock in when the door opens again. Alonso steps inside and gives me a small, reassuring smile before sitting across from me.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Are you about to tell me something bad?” I ask, bracing myself.
“No.” He exhales. “I just wanted to check on you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but you saved my life a few months ago. And you’re my boss’s sister. It’s my job to protect you until this is over.”
“I know,” I murmur. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I think I want to stay home. Maybe. And… since I’m part of this world now, I should probably start doing what I moved to New York for.”
He nods slowly. “Sounds like you already know. The real question is whether you’re ready.”
Then he leaves me alone again.
By the time my shift ends, the answer is clear.
TWENTY-SIX
MATEO
Drip. Drip. Drip.
That’s the sound I’ve listened to for weeks, water leaking from a pipe about fifteen feet away. It’s been 104 days since I was brought here. One hundred and four days in this fucking room. Every day a man comes in with food and water, and not long after, Lorenzo follows to “question” me. By now I know the routine. Same questions, same threats. They’re waiting for me to slip.
I’m pretty sure they already know we didn’t raid them, but something is keeping me alive.
Right on cue, Lorenzo walks in. He’s cut me, burned me, and none of it has broken me yet. Today he’s wearing that familiar smirk, the one he only gets when Gino and the others start giving them what they want. Money and drugs, enough to make up for what they lost.
He wheels in his tray of knives and tools. There’s a phone on it this time. Great. Before he touches me, he snaps a few pictures, types something, and sets the phone down.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“To show your boys you’re still alive.”
“So, I guess they gave in to your demands. Or maybe you gave in to one of theirs.”
“That’s not the only reason you’re still breathing.” He picks up a knife and steps closer. “Back to yesterday’s question. Why did you become a lawyer?”
“I told you. Because I wanted to.”
“You’re good with a gun. You fight well. The Russians said you’re one of the best. Why would Antonio or Gino make you a lawyer unless it was a cover?”
I let out a sharp laugh. “I went to law school. I doubt they sent me there just to hide me.”
“Your father was Antonio’s best friend. You’re Gino’s,” he says coolly. “Of course they’d send you to the best schools.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
The knife sinks into my leg, and I scream. He knows exactly where not to cut, how deep to go so I don’t bleed out. Vanessa once told me there are seven places that can kill you in seconds. Lorenzo avoids all of them. He wants me in pain, not dead. By the time he’s done, I count eight fresh wounds.
Before he leaves, he tosses antiseptic and gauze at my feet.
Once I’m alone, I force myself up and start cleaning the cuts. I soak gauze, dab each wound, then tear part of my shirt and wet it at the leaky pipe to wash off the dirt and dried blood. Every time I do this, I think of Vanessa and how she must be fighting to get to me. I know her. She won’t stop.
