Elsa
I move fast.
Too fast to care about dignity. My hands shake as I drag my jeans up under the stupid gown, denim catching on my calves while paper and fabric twist around me.
I don’t care that Dr. Bianchi is still in the room.
I don’t care about modesty.
I don’t care about anything except getting dressed, getting out of here, and finding Antonio.
My sweater goes over my head next, hair snagging in the collar, and I yank it down hard enough to feel the seam scrape my shoulder.
Shoes. Purse. Breathe.
Then I turn and come face-to-face with the doctor.
She’s standing there staring at me, and her face has gone white. Not pale. White.
Terrified.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
My mind is already halfway out the door. “Sorry about what?”
I glance toward the exam room entrance. Antonio said he’d be right back.
Vito is out there. Antonio is out there.
Nobody is getting to me.
Nobody is getting past them.
Then I look back at her and really see her.
She looks like she might faint.
My stomach drops.
“Don’t worry,” I say automatically, trying to calm her because, apparently, I’m the calm one now.
“They won’t let anyone get past them.”
Her eyes fill with horror.
“It’s too late for that.”
Every muscle in my body locks.
“What do you mean?” My voice comes out thin.
She shakes her head frantically.
“They threatened my family. They said if I didn’t cooperate, they’d hurt my husband. My little boy.” Tears spill over now. “They told me all I had to do was let him in beforeyour security sweep. They said he only wanted to talk. They said no one would get hurt.”
Cold crashes through me.
“What did you do?”
