Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I stumbled forward two steps before I dropped to my knees, panic clawing at my heart as my entire body slowed despite my desire to fight.
“Why did you do that?” Marisol demanded, rounding on Daniel. “You said you were helping us escape. She would have come with us willingly.”
My limbs turned to jelly, and the room tilted. I blinked slowly, looking up at Marisol from where I lay sprawled on the floor. I tried to lift my hand to pluck the dart from my flesh, but I couldn’t get my body to respond to my commands.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Daniel sneered. “Miguel told me she’s nuts. I wasn’t going to risk my neck for some crazy whore.”
A block of ice solidified in my heart, and I searched wildly for Marisol, willing the world to coalesce around me so I could beg her for help.
“Don’t…” I forced my tongue to reason with her. She thought she was rescuing me, but she had somehow become involved in a scheme to take me to Miguel, my worst nightmare.
“I want Stefano. Please…” A low, animal moan left my chest as my muscles went lax and a soporific fog clouded my mind.
“This isn’t what we talked about.” Marisol’s uncertain words were fading out. “You said Carmen’s friend wanted to help her. If that’s true, why are you drugging her?”
The sharp smack of a hand slapping flesh was followed by her pained shout.
“Just follow through with your end and tell Duarte that I’m the one who took her. Arturo will be waiting to ambush him at my place, and then, that arrogant fucker won’t be your problem anymore, either.”
Terror engulfed my senses, following me down into darkness.
Ice encased my bones, and the scent of perpetual damp made my stomach lurch. I shuddered and reached for Stefano, desperate to shake off the old nightmare.
My palm scraped against rough concrete rather than gliding over soft cotton sheets. My eyes snapped open, staring out into inky darkness.
“No!” A horrified groan of denial burst from my chest, echoing through my black, frigid cell.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, breathing deeply to search for Stefano’s calming scent.
My nightmare was far too real, and Stefano was nowhere to be found.
Just follow through with your end and tell Duarte that I’m the one who took her. Arturo will be waiting to ambush him at my place, and then, that arrogant fucker won’t be your problem anymore, either. Daniel Vera’s sickening instructions to Marisol played through my mind.
The girl had thought she was rescuing me, but she’d sent Stefano straight into a trap and delivered me back into my own personal hell.
My teeth chattered, and I hugged my shaking knees tight to my chest. Panic threatened to choke me completely, my lungs seizing as my heart slammed against my ribs.
I kept my eyes willfully closed, choosing to control the circumstances of my darkness. The fraction of autonomy granted me a little more mental clarity, and I clung to reason. My mind had saved me before, and it would save me again.
I had no idea how much time had passed since I’d been drugged and taken from our penthouse, but there was a chance that Stefano hadn’t gone after Daniel Vera yet. He might not have walked straight into Arturo’s ambush.
He’s not dead. Stefano is alive.
As long as I was breathing, I refused for him to be otherwise.
I had to get back to him, which meant escaping an impossible prison that had held me securely for over a year the last time I’d been caged here.
Last time, Stefano’s life wasn’t on the line.
Years ago, Miguel had taken everything from me. I would die before I let him take Stefano Duarte from me now.
I found the well of defiant rage that had kept me alive this long. Stefano had proven that I didn’t need to draw on my rage to protect myself from him, but my fury hadn’t dried up from lack of use; I had plenty of ire to arm myself against Miguel Armendariz.
My righteous anger was a fire in my veins, burning away the chill that paralyzed my body and my mind.
Slowly, I moved each of my limbs, purposefully flexing and directing blood flow back to cramped muscles. I couldn’t risk standing up and pacing; whenever Miguel eventually came for me, an appropriately distressed position on the concrete floor would lull him into complacency.
I pressed my palms over my eyes, providing an extra, thick shield against the inevitable searing burst of fluorescent light. All I could do was continue moving as much as possible and keep my eyes covered until my tormentor decided to come down here and hurt me.
The indeterminate passage of time threatened to shred my resolve. Although I’d remembered the fetid scent clearly, I’d forgotten the crushing silence of my frigid cell, the complete isolation from the world aboveground. I had no means of knowing what might be happening in Miguel’s home, no hints of activity or signs of life. I was starkly, horribly alone.