Page 22

Ivy

Istared blankly into nothing. My body was strained and tired, but I refused to let my eyes close. I wasn't going to sleep, not here.

Defeat had pained every muscle in my body, I was sore and uncomfortable. But there was nothing I could do to change that. The idea of giving up was dangling like a spider on a web in front of my face.

But my mind was still racing with ways to get free, to hide, to fix this.

A door slammed somewhere downstairs. The bang vibrated the walls, window mimicking the shake with a wave of ripples. My eyes zeroed in on the door, waiting for it fly open.

Dante started speaking first, his words low and inaudible. I couldn't make out what he was saying.

Fuck! What the hell is he saying?

Glancing up at the shackles on my wrists, I tried to roll my body closer to the door. I wanted to hear them, I needed to hear them. My arms bent unnaturally, twisting and popping at the joints.

Sweat had started to form on my brow, wiping it away with my shoulder, I strained my neck to lean closer to the door.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I naturally forced my body to slow down so I could hear anything and everything around me. I wanted to be prepared, it was important.

Life had thrown me so many fucking curve balls, I'd grown accustom to anticipating the worst. I always found that if I expected the worst then I wouldn't be blindsided.

But this shit was different. The past few months had been fucking different. I hadn't seen any of this coming.

Then again . . . Maybe if I had paid more attention, I would've noticed something.

The meetings my father had with Remo would've been a start. I chose not to notice, going about my business like he wasn't even there. If I could've known then what I know

now . . . I would've run.

I replayed that day in my head a million fucking times, the day he came for me. And the look in my father's eye was one of sadness, regret, and relief.

Money talks, especially to those who are desperate.

You can't change it. What's done is done.

All you can do is survive it.

I could hear Dante talking, his voice was going in high and low tones, raising and dropping with precision. The other man was obviously someone of power. After spending these past couple months around Remo, I had developed a sixth sense to those who had authority, and those who knelt before them.

Dante's voice was calm but confident, he was speaking in a way that seemed to heighten then drop in submission. He wasn't afraid of this person, but he was well aware of his position. The man who showed up was definitely higher in the chain.

There was a level of respect in Dante's voice that wasn't there earlier with Vince and Tony. Around those guys, Dante was the big dog, but not now, not with that man.

That made me nervous. I didn't want to see anyone else. Especially if they were the one holding the cards. I wasn't sure where in the pecking order Dante fell exactly, but just knowing he didn't have all the control scared me.

I should be scared! I should be scared out of my fucking mind!

So why am I not afraid of Dante?

The look in his eyes should be enough to send me over the edge into a state of pure fear. But it didn't. I was willing to challenge him, I willed him to kill me.

But he wouldn't.

That had to count for something. Right?

They were discussing something important. Their voices drifted between anxious beats and exploding in words. A loud crack rang out and I shuddered.

Did he hit him?