Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Sí, Jefe!” they all say at once.
“Good.”
Bain comes back and when he meets up to the table I notice he has a black case in hand. He places it down on the table and then pops it open, revealing a red type of gun.
It’s not the sort of gun that shoots bullets. This gun has a needle at the end of it.
“So now that we know that, it clearly means she is here to stay.”
What?!
The blood feels like it’s draining from my body as he picks it up. The meal I’m trying to digest seems to build right back up. I feel sick as he walks around his chair and demands me to stand up.
“Draco,” I plead.
“Stand, Gianna. Now.”
Bain pulls my chair out, leaving me no choice but to make a move. I stand on weak, wobbly legs, watching the gun with the needle. He inserts something very tiny into it and then steps forward.
“Turn around, niñita.”
“W-what is that?” My voice trembles.
“This, Gianna,” he breathes, resting a hand on my shoulder to spin me around. “Is so you can’t run away. You are here to stay, and if you try, I will easily find you.”
“What is it?” I ask again, feebler this time.
“A tracker. Hold still.” He grips my shoulder and pulls a few loose strands of my hair away. After that, he slides the back of my dress over. Rubbing my shoulder, he murmurs, “It will sting just a bit, but don’t worry. You’ve been through much worse.”
The sharp end of the needle presses into the soft flesh right beneath my armpit. It sinks in and I hiss through my teeth, but I can hardly feel it.
I only hiss because now I really know…there is no way out of here.
Francesca was right, and as I look at her, I realize she didn’t tell me this on purpose. He’s done this to her too. He’s made a tool out of her just to demonstrate his control—his power—but now it has switched to me.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask when he spins me back around. I rub the area, scratch it, but I can’t even feel it. “How deep did you put it in there?”
“Deep enough that you can’t cut it out without hitting something that will keep you alive.”
“You are a fucking pig,” I snap at him.
His face doesn’t change. “I’ve been called worse. Now, sit the fuck down before you piss me off again.”
I hold his gaze, on the verge of tears. He doesn’t dare blink—not even a twitch. He simply stares back, and I know if I don’t sit, he’ll make an example out of me right here in this dining room. Right in front of his men.
I step away and sit, yanking my chair forward and staring down at my half-eaten food. My blood feels like it’s broiling, my head like it’s about to explode. My heart is thundering in my chest, and my palms are sweaty now.
I’m trying to hold in all of my rage—all of my emotion—but it’s nearly impossible. He’s a jackass. I have officially been trapped in hell, and Draco is the devil himself.
Draco puts the gun back in the case and sends Bain off with it.
It burns where he inserted the needle.
I have the urge to scratch at it, but I don’t. I don’t need any more attention being put on me.
“Let’s finish eating,” Draco insists, sitting back down and shooting his eyebrows up as he looks at his mother.
She studies her son, and it’s like she questions how he became this way.
Her stare is blank, her eyes so lost and confused.
This poor woman.
She’s raised a monster and she probably didn’t even realize it until it was too late.
As everyone eats, I watch Draco closely as he talks to his mother about his plans tomorrow. He’s so sure of himself that it pisses me off. His hair tumbles onto his forehead again, and I want to slice it off with the knife he’s holding.
When he turns his head and meets my eyes, I realize I’ve been staring at him for too long. He points down at my plate. “Eat your food, Gianna. I wouldn’t want you to go without again.” He smirks.
When I pick up the fork, I squeeze it in my hands until I feel the edge of it pushing into my skin.
I feel the sting, but it doesn’t hurt me as much as it should. I look down at my lonely ring finger, the tan line there. My vision becomes blurry the longer I look at it.
But I eat, and pretend there’s nothing wrong.
After dinner is over, the men are leaving the dining room to make way for the brown shed. I assume it’s their hangout spot—where they smoke and boast while picking on Ronaldo.
Draco stands from his chair and leaves, glancing back once at me before stepping out.