I take a step to go past her toward the elevator.She moves as if to block me.
She can’t be serious.She’s in heels and a dress.I have on jeans and tennis shoes.I could outrun her.
She seems to realize this at the same time as I do.She sneers.“Go ahead.You can try to steal him from me, but he knows how good I am for him, and he’ll come around.”
Instead of allowing me to go past her, she stomps by, knocking my shoulder with hers as she goes.What an asshole.
At the elevator, I have to wait because whoever she was with has used it to go back upstairs.I try to calm my breathing.I won’t let her upset me, I won’t let her get to me.This day is momentous.It’s Kyle’s birthday, and it’s the day I stop wandering aimlessly and start living for myself, choosing what—andwho—I want in my life.For good.
As I’m about to step into the elevator, however, a surprised yelp catches my attention.I turn around.
Alessia disappears around the corner of a vehicle, but the angle of her leg makes it look as if she’s being dragged.
That’s…odd.And scary.I get my phone from my pocket as I rush toward the place she disappeared.That old SUV I noticed earlier.Over the top of the car next to it, I see a man pushing Alessia into the SUV.
I recognize that guy—he’s the same one who grabbed me in front of Nove.
“Hey!Cut it out—let her go!”I start dialing 911 on my phone.
I get as far as the firstonewhen the guy says, “Drop it.Now.”
I look up.He’s holding a gun and pointing it at my head.
My heart jams in my throat.This can’t be happening, but it is.That gun is in my face.I can see the hollow of the barrel.
I don’t think.All I know is I don’t want to get shot.
I drop my phone.It clatters to the ground with a cracking sound.
The man says something in Italian to Alessia.Then he takes a step toward me and says, “Don’t fucking move.”
No.No, no,no.Never let them put you in the car.
I start running, eyes on the rough pavement, the bright white lines of parking spaces blurring as I go past.
His footsteps get closer.I don’t dare look back.
I’m maybe ten feet from the elevator when a big arm bands itself around my chest and yanks me back.I scream, kick, fight.
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll shoot you in the fucking head.”His Italian accent is strong, but I understand him just fine.
I understand the cold metal pressing against my temple even better.
I whimper, clawing at his arm.I don’t think I’m doing much damage through his jacket.
He drags me to the SUV, where Alessia cowers in the back seat.
“Hands together.”He waves the gun between us.
Alessia and I do as he asked, and he fishes a zip tie from his pocket with his free hand.He sets the gun on the floor, far away from my reach.Seeing me look at the gun, he shakes his head in warning.“Do not think about it or I will shoot you in the face.”
I bite my lip, eyes filling with tears, as he ties Alessia’s and my hands together, then our feet.
“On the floor.”He gestures with the weapon.
Alessia and I have to contort ourselves to fit behind the front seats, but we somehow manage.She avoids my gaze, her face an expression of terror and misery.What the fuck has she gotten me into?
13
