Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“No,” I whisper. “Please.”
When I look back on this—if I ever get to look back on it—I know I’ll wish I was braver. I’ll wish I could’ve told him to go to hell, but anything like that seems so far away. It takes all my effort not to scream in fear when he grabs my arm.
“I’ve got a gun, too, if you’re wondering,” he says with an unmistakable hint of glee. “If you wanted to make a run for it, you’d better be a college athlete. You’ll need to zig and zag and zag and zig just right. Think you can do that?”
“I’m not going to run.”
“Good bitch,” he says. “Let’s wait in the farmhouse. The big boss’ll be here soon. He told Vesper not to hurt you unless I’ve got a good reason. Do you want to give me a good reason?”
I cringe as he drags me past the barn toward the rundown farmhouse. The men keep smoking and talking, not even looking my way. The farmhouse seems like it hasn’t been occupied in a decade at least. He slams the door open with his shoulder, then drags me into a kitchen that reeks of mold. He pushes me onto the small dining chair and pulls up the chair opposite, tapping his knife against the old wood.
“We could have some real fun together,” he says musingly. “Do you want to know what sort of fun?”
I look down at the table, trying to remember the last time my life was normal. Since the fire, it’s never been normal, but it was better than this. I wouldn’t be experiencing this if it wasn’t for Dario’s messed-up life.
“Why are you breathing like that?” he says after a long pause.
“I’m trying not to have a panic attack,” I gasp.
“Aw, that’s cute. You should be grateful that’s all you’re doing, sweetie. If it weren’t for the big boss, we’d be doing a whole lot more. Do you know why it’s just me and you in here?”
I shudder, still not looking at him, but I’m forced to when he violently stabs the knife into the wood of the table. “I asked you a question.”
“No. I don’t know.”
He grins a thin, ugly smile. “The other fellas don’t much like the things Vesper does to ladies. Some of them got their morals, or that’s what they call them, anyway. Me? I take a more flexible view. Get what I mean? They don’t want to be here in case I’ve got to make you see sense. Please, make me have to make you see sense. Get it?”
Part of acting is using my imagination to immerse my mind fully in a character’s experience, but this doesn’t require much effort. I don’t have to try to imagine what he might mean. This man, the psycho who refers to himself in the third person, is willing to go to lengths even regular Mafia soldiers won’t. That means serious, life-ending abuse.
“That wasn’t rhetorical,” he says.
“I understand.”
He taps the knife against the table. “Why don’t you try to give me some fight, hmm? Why don’t you try to be a bit more interesting?”
“Fighting would be useless,” I say. “Or am I wrong about that?”
“No, you’re right,” he says with a sigh, “but it’d still be more interesting than this crap.”
I’m sorry I’m not interesting to you. I almost give some sass. It’s absurd. Thinking back on all the times I sassed Dario feels just as silly. I was a naïve little girl, locked away from the nasty parts of his life, believing he was somebody he was not, somebody he could never be.
“Do you think your knight in shining armor is going to save you?” Vesper asks after another long pause. He keeps tap-tap-tapping the blade against the table. He probably likes the fact I flinch every time he does it.
“I don’t know,” I murmur.
“I know—nope. You’re shit out of luck. Nothing’s going to change for you. Nobody’s going to appear and—What the fuck …”
He trails off, turning at the loud crack noise. I try not to let hope flare. Even if Dario has somehow found us, that doesn’t mean he’ll be able to get to me before Vesper does something.
When Vesper stands and goes to the window, I scream at myself, Get him. Get him! But my hands are tied, and I’m just too scared. I’ve watched movies and read books where I’ve yelled at the action scene, willing the character into movement. Yet, in real life, it’s nothing like that. Here, now, I feel like I’m surrounded by landmines.
Vesper turns to me, sneering when there are more crack noises. I’m guessing it’s more gunshots.
“We’re going to the cellar,” he growls, marching over and grabbing my arm. “The big boss and me, we made a deal. Even if the Moretti dog comes, I’ve got to keep my end. See, I’ve got people—folks who need me. Even if Vesper dies here, those folks will be taken care of. See, slut? There’s no way out for you. I just might have to make it quicker than I’d like, that’s all.”