At first I thought it was a drill. I’ve been doing them for as long as I can remember.
They were designed to ensure I could evade capture by our enemies if needed, and because it’s been a few months since the last one, it made sense that that was why I was dragged out of my bed at two in the morning.
But then they started calling me a traitor, among other awful things, and I knew that’s not what this was. Because even when playing the captors, they never disrespected me. My father and Ronan wouldn’t have allowed it.
“Let me go!” I cry out, twisting in a way that makes my shoulders groan in protest.
That’s the other thing that’s different this time around. Normally their hold on me is lighter, because it’s unlikely our enemies would look at my five-foot frame and think I’m any kindof risk. But these men know better. They know I’ve been training all my life for situations just like this one, and they’re holding me accordingly.
I’m dragged down a long corridor despite my fight. The humidity is worse down here. Settled amongst the damp stone, the stench of mold and death awaits me the further we walk, and I can’t help but cry.
I went to bed thinking I’d be starting a new life with my boyfriend in a few weeks, with an extra little life for us to love, and somehow I woke up to my own personal version of hell.
The reminder of the baby only makes me fight harder, if not for me, for them. They haven’t had a chance to live yet.
No matter how much this hurts, I can’t give up, knowing it’s not just my life at stake.
I’ve only been down here a handful of times.
“It’s not a place for young women,” my father always says, and after I found out the horrors that happen down here, I was okay with being left out.
But I’m looking at it with different eyes now that I’m the one being paraded toward my death.
I’m shoved into the large room at the end of the hall where they do most of their interrogations, and if that weren’t enough to make my stomach roll, the sight before me does it just fine.
Because my parents are both here too, tied up and bloody.
Mom’s quiet sobs are accompanied by gentle reassurance from my dad.
This is wrong.
Really fucking wrong.
“Dad,” I choke out as the men shove me into my own seat against the wall, securing my feet and wrists to the metal rungs before I have a chance to fight.
“It’s okay, Chloe. Everything is going to be okay,” he promises, but staring into eyes so similar to my own, I realizethat’s not a promise he can make, because nothing about this is okay.
“What’s going on?” I hiss when Wesley tightens the zip tie so tight it slices into me.
“Just a misunderstanding. We’re going to get it all figured out.”
For the first time since I was dragged from my bed, there are no hands on me, and it finally allows me to breathe for a second. It’s hard to focus when two burly men are carrying you to an undisclosed location, but as I take in the room around me, the weapons on the wall, the blood dripping down my mother’s temple, and the terror in my father’s eyes, I realize clarity is not the thing I need right now.
“A misunderstanding?” I ask incredulously. “How could a misunderstanding land us down here?”
“Honey.” Mom’s voice shakes under the word, and my chest tightens until I can hardly drag in a breath. “If your father says it’s a misunderstanding, I’m sure that’s what it is. He’ll have it straightened out before we know it, and this will be a distant memory.”
I open my mouth to tell her I can’t imagineeverrecovering from the last twenty minutes of my life but quickly snap it shut when Salvatore steps into the room, his sleeves shoved up to his elbows in a rare sign of imperfection.
In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve only ever seen his clothing ruffled a handful of times, and I can’t help but think that’s a bad sign right now.
“Ah, the whole family’s here,” he muses, glancing around at the three of us.
We’re positioned in a triangle, ensuring we can each see one another clearly, another very bad sign. Because if all the training that was forced upon me is anything to go by, that means they’re going to torture Mom and me to leverage information from Dad.
I swallow past the bile climbing up the back of my throat and press my eyes closed, willing myself to wake up from what must be a dream. Because there’s no way I went from pure happiness when I went to sleep, to my worst nightmare just a few hours later.
“Salvatore, we can work this out. Let my wife and daughter go. You know they have nothing to do with our business.” Even tied up and bloody, my father is ever the businessman. Diplomatic and calm despite the tension bouncing off the dark room. It’s why he’s the dealmaker, the one that Salvatore sends to smooth over even the worst of situations.
