I stare at the large lens staring back at me, but I refuse to say a word. I don’t know who he’s planning on showing this tape to, but I can only assume it’s my father.
Suddenly, my arm is forced behind my back and raised to the point where I think my shoulder is going to pop out of its socket. “I said…say hi to the camera.”
I scream in pain as he hikes my arm even higher.
Satisfied with my response, he says, “That’ll do,” before releasing me. He pulls a rolled-up newspaper out of his back pocket and holds it up to the camera, obviously showing today’s date. When he pulls the paper back, he tells the camera, “I have your daughter, Ciccone. Youronlydaughter. Youronlyflesh and blood,” he makes a point of saying.
Standing behind me, he hooks his hand around my neck, forcing my head up so that I have to look at him. “Such a pretty face. She looks just like her mother, ya know.” His hand trails from my neck and down under the neckline of my dress where he squeezes my right breast cruelly. I gasp in pain, but refuse to cry out. “Such a shame she’ll be dead soon.” Releasing me, he steps in front of me and gets close to the camera. “You took my youngest boy. Teague. Tortured him for information. Sent him back to me in pieces.” He turns to me and stares me dead in the eye as he says, “And now I have to do the same thing to your daughter.”
Tears fall down my cheeks as I hang my head. The many sins my father has committed in his lifetime have been constantly crashing down on me, but this time I’m paying with my life.
Turning back to the camera, Nolan says, “I’m going to send you a video every day, Ciccone. I’m going to make you watch the life drain from your daughter’s body until there’s nothing left. And then you’ll be the one getting back your flesh and blood in a fecking box.”
I realize in that moment that there’s no way out of this. Nolan isn’t trading me for turf or drugs or money. This is all about him exacting his revenge against the death of his son. And ending my life is the only payback he deems fit.
“Doing this won’t bring your son back!” I tell him in a rush.
Nolan nods in agreement. “You’re right about that, lass. But this will make your father suffer as much as I have suffered over the loss of my boy.” He pauses before saying, “We have a rule in the Irish mob — an eye for an eye.” He points to the camera and says, “Your father knew that, and he still took my boy from me.” Looking at me once more, he says softly, “And now ye must suffer the consequence of his actions.”
He snaps his fingers, and two of his men come forward to each take one of my arms. They drag me towards the galvanized tub in the center of the room, which I now see is filled with water. I dig my heels into the concrete, trying to find some purchase, but not being able to stop any of this from happening.
Before I can even take a deep breath, I’m bent over the tub and my head is forced under the water. I struggle against the strong hold on me, panicked and screaming under water. I force myself not to take a breath, but I can only hold out for so long.
Just when I don’t think I can go any longer without oxygen, I’m suddenly lifted out of the water. Sputtering, I drag air into my lungs, coughing and grimacing at the burning sensation of water in my nose and draining down the back of my throat.
“Please!” I beg, shivering from head to toe. “You don’t have to do this!”
Before I can fully recover, I hear Nolan say, “Again.”
And I barely have time to take a breath before I’m forced under the water again. This time they keep me under longer, and I end up inhaling some of the water. When they bring me upright again, my body convulses as I violently vomit the water out of my lungs. A string of curses flies from my mouth as I struggle against their grip on my arms, but they hold me firm.
I’m struggling to breathe now, but they dunk me five more times before I’m finally thrown back inside my concrete cell.
Soaking wet and feeling like I’m freezing to death, I huddle under the thin blanket and sob. I’ve never felt so desperate or so alone in my entire life. I try to think of something to calm me, but I can’t seem to focus on anything.
Feeling the weight of the locket against my neck, I grasp it in my hands, holding onto it like a lifeline. I lay there for what feels like an eternity, holding that locket in my trembling hands. And, when I finally close my eyes, I see Damon’s face. He smiles and tells me everything will be all right.
But I know that I must be dreaming, because he’s not coming to save me.
No one is.
CHAPTER 8
DAMON
I’M SITTING AT a small coffee shop that has bad coffee but free Wi-Fi when I open up my laptop. I’m incognito, wearing nondescript clothing — black jeans, black Henley and a black baseball cap pulled down low on my head. I glance around me to make sure no one is watching before clicking to open the camera feed to Victoria’s apartment.
I search for any sign of her, but there is none. And there hasn’t been for three days now.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath before closing the laptop.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I stare out onto the streets of New York. I should have left here weeks ago, but something is holding me back.
No.Someoneis holding me back.
Even though I destroyed any chance I have of being with Victoria, a part of me just can’t seem to let her go. I had already packed up my apartment, ready to leave everything and everyone behind, only to find myself coming back to a hotel in the city not far from Victoria’s place.
I know that Victoria survived the gunshot wound, and she finally went home a few weeks ago. I know that because I’ve been watching her on the cameras I had installed in her apartment before she even moved in.
