5
721 Words
Toni
I saw Vincent leave the room and managed to sit up. "Marco," I whispered.
He came closer and knelt before me. "Toni," he said simply, using the childhood nickname my brother gave me.
My mother didn't raise me to beg, but desperation pushed me. I touched his hand. "Please help me. You were part of the Golden Gate. You can't allow this."
He pulled his hand away, his eyes hard. "I am part of the Pinecrest Carte." He stood and looked down at me emotionlessly.
"What will happen to me? What does your Lord want with me?" I asked hoarsely.
For a moment, his eyes softened, the most terrifying answer he could give. "The Golden Gate attacked us on our territory. Vincent is out for retribution."
Icy terror clawed at me. "But I have nothing to do with your business."
"You don't, but Nick is your uncle, and your father and fiancé are high-ranking Golden Gate members."
I looked at my hands, knuckles white from clutching my dress. Then I noticed red stains and released the fabric. "So he's going to make them pay by hurting me?" My voice broke. I cleared my throat, struggling to hold onto composure.
"Vincent didn't divulge his plan to me," he claimed, but I didn't believe him. "He might use you to bribe your uncle into handing over parts of his territory or his Consigliere."
Uncle Nick wouldn't give up territory or a man, not even for family. I was lost.
My vision swam, and I slumped back onto the mattress. Through the fog, I heard Vincent's voice. "Change of plans. Let her sleep off the drugs while we drive. We've spent too much time here. Miguel called again. He suggests we head out now. He sent our helicopter to pick us up in Kansas. We're still on the fringes of Golden Gate territory."
Nick was trying to save me. Dad, Mark, and Anthony would be searching. If we were still on Golden Gate territory, not all hope was lost.
I woke in a car, curled into myself, half tangled in my dress. Marco was in the backseat, not looking at me. Another man sat in the front behind the wheel, and beside him was Vincent.
I wasn't sure if they'd given me another tranquilizer or if my body struggled against the first. I hadn't eaten or drunk much. A low moan slipped past my lips.
Marco and Vincent looked down at me. Vincent's dark eyes sent fear down my spine, and Marco's gaze offered no consolation. I closed my eyes, hating my vulnerability.
I wasn't sure how long we'd been driving, but next time I woke, we were in a helicopter. I struggled to sit up. Las Vegas spread below. The tension lingered, but we were in Pinecrest Carte territory, at their mercy.
After landing, Marco helped me out while Vincent talked on the phone. I needed to wash my face, think straight. I'd been in my wedding dress for almost twenty-four hours. I felt sticky, sluggish, and terrified.
Pushed into another car, we arrived at a shabby strip club called the Sugar Trap. Marco gripped my arm as Vincent went ahead.
"Marco," I tried, but he tightened his hold. "I need to go to the bathroom and wash my face. I don't feel good."
He led me inside toward the ladies' room and followed me, waiting at the washbasins. Vincent had ignored me, but that might change.
"Antonella," came Marco's warning voice. "Don't make me get you out of there. You won't like it."
Straightening my shoulders, I came out, feeling shaky. I washed my face, drank water, and Marco led me through a door toward another door.
Inside were two unknown men, Falcones, I assumed. Vincent pointed them out. Dread settled in my bones.
Vincent circled me and stopped in front. He was tall, and I wished for my heels. I stood my ground, refusing to give him anything.
"Antonella Cavallaro," he said, his voice a caress. My name was a weapon he would use against me.
"I'm not Cavallaro. That's my uncle's name, not mine."
"In every regard that matters, you are a Cavallaro," he said, and a terror unlike anything I'd ever encountered gripped me. Pride was my only weapon, and I would hold onto it until the end.
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