Serafina
The car jolted hard as it tore down the dark road, my shoulder slamming against the door. Rough hands pinned me down, the stink of leather and sweat choking me. I tried to scream, but a palm clamped over my mouth, muffling it into a pitiful sound swallowed by the roar of the engine.
“Easy,” a voice snapped from beside me. “Don’t bruise her face.”
The words hit me like ice. Not because of the order — but because I knew the voice.
Rafé.
My stomach dropped. I jerked my head, trying to see him, but one of the men’s arms held me fast.
“You son of a b***h,” I spat against the hand covering me. “You—”
He leaned forward from the passenger seat, his face lit briefly by passing headlights. That same boyish face I used to trust, now carved with something harder, darker.
“Sera
