“Talking of trackers, it appears we picked up one between leaving the house and getting to the Omega store. I swept our vehicle earlier this morning and we were clean, but it seems we were being watched. Anyone could have walked past us whenwe were stopped at traffic lights, or they could have dropped the tracker on our car a hundred different ways. Since they knew where we were, and we spent a lot of time in the Omega store, it gave the people who took our wife plenty of fucking time to action the rest of their plan.” Dante is methodical and clinical, as he talks us through what he thinks happens. And it makes sense unfortunately. It’s how we would have done it if we were after someone.
None of us need to say it won’t happen again, and we’ll be extra vigilant in the future. That’s a given. We also don’t need to talk about the long, violent and painful end coming to those involved in our wife’s abduction because that too is inevitable.
A new message flashes on Dante’s phone, and we all read the text from Legos, confirming what the tracker is already telling us—the van is heading to the airport. And it seems baseless to even say out loud the destination of the people who took my wife will be the side of the airport that the smaller, private jets use, but I mutter it. “Private charter section.”
“Correct. And we might have to drive through a few obstacles, but I can get us there before the plane takes off,” Matteo says confidently. “Get Legos and Leon to meet us, and get someone to bring extra weapons.”
39
Layne
From out of nowhere, my life gets flipped upside down. Again.
The men who took me knew what they were doing. When it was happening, they barely spoke, but by the way they anticipated each other's movements, they had planned out how it was going to happen and what role each of them would take. The man who appeared in the bathroom was responsible for my welfare. Once he’d disarmed me, he zip-tied my wrists, then silenced my screaming by slapping tape over my mouth before he stopped my struggles by barking in my face and ripping my submission to pieces. I’ll kill him for it.
The driver barely looks at me when I get into the van. A heavy canvas is dropped over me, further alienating me. My stress explodes because I can’t see, I can barely breathe, and my fear makes my temperature rocket.
If I don’t get a handle on my anxiety, the shitty situation I’m in is going to get a hundred times worse.
The fact that I’m alive probably means I wasn’t taken by anyone associated with Pack De Luca. As harsh as it sounds, it’s the truth. It’s the way their world works. Disposing of a dead body is easier than hiding and moving someone who is alive.
They talk in a heavy accent that comes across harsh and fast, and I’m almost certain it's Russian. Every now and then, a phone rings, and they talk in broken English before reverting back to their native tongue.
After one phone call, the two men get into an argument with each other. The grip I had on my panic slips as I think this is where I am going to die. When the van slows down, I start to hyperventilate.
I’m blinded by the sudden light when the canvas is ripped away and I come face-to-face with the man who took me. He snarls in my face, and even though I can’t understand a word he’s saying, his abuse is as loud and clear as if he was talking in English.
I wave my hands around my face, trying to protect myself, and he snatches my hands with one of his, squeezing my wrist painfully, and stops me from moving. Then the asshole rips my engagement ring off my finger.
Before I can even blink, the door behind him slides open. And when he doesn’t spin around in surprise, I realize this, too, is planned. My heart literally plunges to my feet when I see who they stopped for. Diego. The Alpha from the plane, with the bitch of a wife. Valentine and Dante’s cousin.
The asshole Alpha who kidnapped me squeezes my wrist again. I whimper but stay still, trying not to move, in case he decides he wants to hurt me more. He laughs and starts talking in Russian to the other man who was driving us.
I shift my focus to Diego. He’s beaming at me, absolutely thrilled to see me at the mercy of the man in front of him. He likes how scared I am.
Like all asshole Alphas, Diego intentionally uses his presence and sense to show me how strong he is. I whine as he keeps rendering me helpless. The roiling taste of his scent has my throat getting thick with the feeling I’m about to puke.
The more I struggle, the more he laughs. When I can’t raise my head, or even raise my eyes past my ring in my kidnapper’s hand, Diego speaks, even using his voice to thunder under the last of my defenses. “I hope he fucking destroys you painfully. Daily. Until you are nothing but a husk.”
Diego takes my engagement ring, and with a final shove of his Alpha designation against me, he leaves.
And almost immediately, the van starts moving.
It’s the tipping point. I spiral.
Half of me is aware of the second tracker still hidden under my skin. The other half is more realistic and knows the more time that passes, the harder it will be for Pack De Luca to find me.
I try to stop the exodus of hope, but I’ve been let down too many times before. And Diego’s parting threat hits home like the final nail in the coffin.
My breathing becomes so difficult, it’s nearly impossible to get any air into my lungs. I squeeze my eyes shut, accepting that my death is inevitable. And I’m so fucking angry at Diego for using his dominance to rip my faith, but he did. The painful thought of not seeing Matteo, Dante, and Valentine is so visceral and real, I suffocate.
My lungs stop working, and spots dance over my closed lids.
Pain explodes on the side of my head. My eyes burst open when I realize the car is no longer moving. And then my pain is replaced by panic.
Another man appears in front of me. It has to be the driver, but I can’t understand a word he’s saying, either. He’s screaming in my face, and I can read the rage in his eyes. But my fearhas me locked up. I try to raise my hands defensively, but he backhands me, smashing me against the seat.
Time segments. Parts of it go fast, other bits are long and drawn-out, but in both versions of my reality, it’s impossible to miss the driver has lost control. He’s a weak Alpha, but any Alpha in a rage is a dangerous one.
