Not citrus, sandalwood, and spices.Not Enzo.
Not Dad either.
When I pry my eyes, and the blurry sight of a balaclava gets through to me, my body stiffens.
“Don’t fight, Rosie,” the man says, his tone professional.
I’m put down on something soft.
A chair?
I try to glance around, but then there’s a prick in my bicep. As I struggle to lift my head, everything wobbles around me.
Enzo.
The roar of engines gets through to me, and it feels like I become weightless.
Don’t come, Enzo. It’s too dangerous.
Stay away.
Stay safe.
I love you.
The world wobbles again, time warping and stretching until I can’t hold on anymore.
Then everything goes dark.
Chapter12
Rosie
“That amount isn’t climbing,” someone with a heavy accent hollers, his tone threatening. “Do you want to die today?”
The words get through to my muddy mind, and I manage to turn my head to the side. Steel bars come into sight, but it takes a minute or so before what I’m seeing registers in my foggy mind.
I struggle to push myself up off whatever I’m lying on, and sitting, I stare at the bars, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
“Two million is not enough!” the same man snaps again. “I want to see a hundred million on the board by midnight, or you’re all picking who dies next.”
A whirring sound gets through to me, and as my mind clears, I realize I’m in some kind of prison cell.
What the hell?
I glance at the metal bed and thin mattress, then look at the stained toilet, sink and shower that’s sectioned off by a dingy plastic curtain suspended from a rail.
For some reason, I take in the bar of soap, a towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, toilet roll, and box of tampons.
The horror movie vibe makes fear tighten my muscles.
Jesus. What the fuck is this place?
“Rosie.”
My head snaps to the bars, and seeing a man, I take in his brown hair, black eyes, and the neutral expression on his face. I guess him to be in his late thirties or early forties.
“How do you feel?” he asks.