"I told you not to run," He growled, glaring down at me.
I tried to beg but when I opened my mouth no words came out, just a whimper. He knelt down on his haunches so he was face to face with me, his gaze consuming me. Pushing a blonde lock behind...
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Walking seemed like a foreign concept to me when I finally gathered the energy and bravery to leave the bed. Standing on my feet I could feel pain swell in my ankle before it gave out causing me to fall backwards onto the bed. I vividly remembered rolling my ankle when I was trying to escape from these maniacs.
Looking down at it, I could see it was swollen and black and blue. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the journey to the bathroom before I stood up again, leaning more on my good leg so I wouldn't fall again.
It felt like it took an eternity to shuffle my way to the bathroom after Declan had left my room. I stood braced against the porcelain sink, my legs trembling as they struggled to keep me from crashing to the tiled floor.
Looking up at my reflection staring back at me I let out a small gasp. I looked awful, like I hadn't slept in weeks. Trails of mascara stained my face from crying, leaving thick black circles under my eyes. There was a scabbed over cut near my hairline from hitting my head off of the window of the truck. My hair was matted at the back of my head from laying on the pillow for however long I was asleep while the ends were a tangled mess. Dirt was smeared over my cheeks and down my neck.
Turning on the faucet, I waited for the water to warm up before cupping my hand and splashing it over my face and down my neck to try and scrub the grime off with my fingers. The harder I rubbed at my neck the more I started to realize that it wasn't dirt but bruises from being choked.
While I continued to wash myself our conversation replayed in my head. I didn't know which part sounded more absurd, my step Uncle being a part of the mafia and pushing drugs overseas or that the psychopath that kidnapped me thinks Alex and I were somehow involved?
"They would never find your body." That sentence kept playing on repeat, each time making me feel even more sick. Was he bluffing? Was he just trying to scare me into talking? How many people has he killed? My mind was racing, trying to come up with some type of escape plan but nothing viable came to mind. It's not like I could run very far anyways with my ankle. It was hopeless, I was stuck here with them for now.
Hobbling back to the bed, I collapsed on the uncomfortable mattress and brought the thin blanket up, wrapping it around me. It didn't do much to shield me from the draft that was blowing in through the hole in the ceiling.
The mafia? I was really being accused of being a part of the mafia? I mean, I know that there is a huge presence here in the city but my family being involved? This just seems too impossible to me.
Then something clicked. Declan called Uncle Mike "Mikhail". I've never heard him be called that before except for the other day when someone had called the dealership yelling at me in broken English to talk to "Mikhail". When I paged Uncle Mike he snapped at me and told me to keep everyone off of his line. Was he hiding something?
No, that's absurd.
And he thinks Alex is involved. No, no way. I just can't see Alex being involved in anything shady. The image of him coming into work that same day all messed up, smelling like smoke and gasoline. He said he got into an accident on his bike but it was pouring down rain. He's never rode his bike in the rain. And then I remembered thinking how if he was in an accident in the rain, why wasn't he soaking wet?
