A van idled in the driveway. Black. Windowless except for small, reinforced panels. Engine running, exhaust shimmering in the heat.
Back doors already open like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.
"No!" I fought harder, finding reserves of strength I didn't know existed. Bucked. Thrashed. Made myself dead weight. "No!"
Someone hit me in the ribs—a blunt impact that drove air from my lungs.
Pain exploded through my side, white-hot and consuming. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond the agony.
They threw me into the van like cargo.
I hit the metal floor hard. Shoulder first with a crack that might have been bone, then hip with bruising force. New pain layered over old in a symphony of agony.
Caldwell climbed in after me, settling onto the bench seat like he was boarding a luxury car. Three armed contractors followed, weapons ready, blocking any escape.
The doors slammed shut with metallic finality.
We were moving before the echo faded.
Through the small reinforced window, I caught one last glimpse of everything I was losing.
Agents stumbling from the smoking safe house. A medic crouching beside Sofia's motionless form, hands already working, pressing gauze against the wound.
Is she alive?
The van turned sharply. She disappeared.
Everything disappeared—the safe house, the agents, my mother, my last connection to safety.
I lay on cold metal ridged against my cheek, the floor reeking of motor oil and coppery blood.
My bound hands trapped beneath me sent shooting pains up my arms with every bump in the road. Ribs screamed with each shallow breath.
Blood from my split lip pooled warm on the floor. I couldn't spit it out. Could only swallow.
Through the tiny window, the Arizona landscape blurred past. We were getting farther from Alessio with every second. Every mile.
Caldwell watched me from the bench seat. "Your boyfriend can't save you. Your mother's probably dead on that kitchen floor." He checked his phone like he was confirming a dinner reservation. "Three hours to the property. It's remote. Soundproof."
Each word landed like a physical blow.
He smiled, and it was the smile of a man with nothing left but cruelty.
"I'll make sure Valestri gets pieces of you."
One of the contractors laughed—low and ugly.
I closed my eyes against tears I refused to let fall.
But they had me. They had time. They had a three-hour head start.
And I was truly alone.
CHAPTER 15
Alessio
Domenico's phone rang.
