CHIARA
The ground was hard beneath my cheek, rough stones biting into my skin where he’d shoved me down. Damp earth clung to my hair, grit in my mouth every time I drew a breath. My wrists ached from the ropes digging into them, the coarse fibers already tearing my skin open. My shoulders screamed from being wrenched behind me too long. I tried to quiet the sobs, to swallow the sound, but the tears wouldn’t stop; they slid hot and endless down my face, soaking into the dirt. I wanted to be strong. To think. But panic had its claws in me and wouldn’t let go.
It was late. Too late. The sky through the cracks in the rotting wood was a deep velvet black now, no trace of twilight left.
Massimo would have noticed by now. He always noticed. The thought of his anger made me shudder, anger that
