Page 55 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

Victor watched me carefully, as if he could see every thought moving through my mind. “You should rest,” he said. “You’ill need your strength.”

I didn’t answer him. I kept my eyes on the room, counting the steps from the mattress to the door, noticing the broken wooden crate in the corner and the loose nail sticking out of one of its boards.

He stood up slowly. “Don’t make this difficult, Nora.” He walked to the door and opened it. Before leaving, he looked back at me one last time. “I know what you’re thinking. You can’t escape,” he said quietly.

Then he stepped outside. I heard him speak to someone in the hallway. “Keep watch,” he ordered. “If she tries to leave, shoot her.”

The door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. For a moment, I sat perfectly still, listening to the footsteps outside. A man moved back and forth near the door, his boots scraping against the floor. He was close enough that I could hear him clear his throat.

I waited until Victor’s footsteps faded away.

Then I stood up carefully. Pain shot through my arm, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I crossed the room slowly and reached for the window, but it was too high. I tried to pull myself up with my good arm, and the effort made my vision blur.

I know I thought it was impossible to get through a few moments ago, but desperation made me try it anyway. People who said there was no harm in trying must be crazy. The pain throbbing my arm told me there was plenty of harm in it.

I let go and dropped back down. Next, I searched the room for anything I could use. The wooden crate was cracked, and one of the pieces had splintered into a sharp edge. I picked it up carefully, testing its weight in my hand.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. I slipped the piece of wood beneath the mattress, where Victor wouldn’t see it immediately. Then I pressed my ear against the door.

I could hear two men talking in low voices somewhere down the hallway. I couldn’t understand every word, but I heard Victor’s name, the sound of laughter, and the scrape of chairs being moved.

I stepped back from the door and looked around the room one more time. I knew escape would be difficult, maybe impossible while my arm was injured, but I refused to surrender to hopelessness. So I sat back down on the mattress, the sharp piece of wood hidden nearby, and waited for the smallest opening.

Because when that moment came, I was going to survive. I sat on the mattress with my injured arm pressed against my chest, trying to keep my breathing steady.

The bandage wrapped around my arm felt rough against my skin, and every small movement reminded me that I was weak and completely at Victor Hale’s mercy.

The hallway outside had been quiet for several minutes except for the guard moving back and forth beyond the door. His footsteps were slow and steady, and the sound had become almost familiar in the awful silence of the building. I kept my eyes fixed on the metal door, listening without allowing myself to hope for anything.

Then the building shook. The force of it made the walls tremble, and dust drifted from the ceiling in a thin gray cloud. A violent crash echoed down the hallway, followed by shouting so sudden and loud that I jumped up from the mattress.

For a moment, I couldn’t understand what was happening. Another crash came, closer this time, and the quiet building exploded into chaos. Men shouted over one another, footsteps pounded across the floor, and the sharp sound of gunfire cracked through the air.

“Move!” someone shouted.

“Cover the back entrance!” another voice yelled.

“Don’t let them inside!” The words were filled with panic.

My heart thumped against my ribs as I pressed myself against the wall, listening to the violence rushing closer.

The gunshots came again, controlled and precise, not wild or careless. Whoever was attacking the building knew exactly what they were doing. I heard the guard outside my door curse loudly. His footsteps, which had been slow and steady only moments before, suddenly became frantic as he ran down the hallway toward the noise.

I pressed my back against the wall and listened, my heart beating so hard that it drowned out every other sound for a second.

Another gunshot exploded, closer than the ones before. The sharp crack echoed through the building, followed by shouting that was too loud and too close. I couldn’t understand every word, but I heard enough to know that Victor Hale’s men were no longer in control.

“Fall back!” someone shouted.

“Get to the back!” another voice yelled.

A heavy crash shook the floor beneath me, and the lightbulb above my head swung wildly. Dust drifted through the air, making my eyes sting. I covered my mouth with my good hand and tried to breathe through the fear rising in my chest.

The building sounded as if it was being torn apart. Doors slammed open and furniture scraped across the floor. Men ran past the room. I heard one of them curse loudly, but another burst of gunfire cut him off before he could finish.

“Where’s Hale?” a voice demanded.

“I don’t know!” another man shouted back.