ZAYLA
I hadn't died yet. That was progress.
Two days in this place and I still didn't know the hell I was. A hostage? A guest? or some poor i***t caught in a three-way power game between men who looked like gods and acted like devils.
They gave me one of the guest rooms. Fed me. Let me sleep for long hours. Let me do whatever I want. But made it painfully clear I wouldn’t be leaving. And denied me access to cell phones or anything on the internet.
So, literally... I'm stuck in a large house with three huge Italian men, and totally no idea which part of New York it was.
Wow. Zayla.
And as much as I hate to believe and admit it, I kind of... felt safe.
My stomach grumbled again — Traitor.
I sat up from the bed and glanced at the clock. It was 10 in the morning, they'd probably h
