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All of my senses are heightened; adrenaline and fear are in the driver’s seat as I strain to hear anything that will inform me of what my brother is up to and what my fate might be. I begin to pace, searching for the confidence to know how to get myself out of this. I’m mid-stride when I’m struck with the realisation that somehow both Stefan and I have forgotten that I still have my phone in my bag.

My hands shake as I rush to tear open my bag and pull out my phone. I hold it up to my face, but it must have updated itself or something because it is requiring I enter my passcode instead. I tap it in, but my unsteady fingers press the wrong buttons. I try again and still get it wrong.

For fucksake, I type this in multiple times a day every single day!A pop-up message tells me that if I get the passcode wrong for a third time I will be locked out for ten minutes.

My hands are now shaking with so much ferocity that I can barely read the screen. Sweat pools at my temples and under my arms. I blow a slow breath out of my nose. And another one.

With my phone lying flat on the bed, I slowly and deliberately enter my code and my home screen flashes up just as I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Fuck fuck fuck.

I quickly type messages to Massimo, sending them as I go:

Francesca: Help

Francesca: At stefan

Francesca: He locked me in

Francesca: Someone is coming to get me

Francesca: Help please

The footsteps stop outside the door and I just manage to shove my phone under a pillow before the lock turns and Stefan’s head pokes around the door.

“Allegra made you a smoothie,” he states as he places a tall glass full of thick light mauve liquid just inside the door and throws a water bottle in my direction.

I say nothing, just watch his every move, holding my breath and willing him to leave.

He turns and pulls the door closed and I breathe out, but my relief is premature. Before Stefan can turn the lock, a loud ping sounds from behind me on the bed and I cringe. The door is flung back open and Stefan steps back into the room with panic and fury competing for space in his expression.

“GIVE IT TO ME!” he bellows and I scoot backward on the bed putting distance between us. My back hits the headboard and my bum vibrates as my phone sounds again underneath me.

Not bothering with words any longer, my big brother grabs me by one of my biceps, his long boney fingers wrapping all the way around it. A gasp followed by a cry escapes my lips as his grip digs in, sure to leave bruises.

He drags me off the bed in one fluid movement, casting me aside so I go flying into the wall by the door. From there I watch him manically digging around in the bedding for my phone. Her curses in English and Italian until finding it, he holds it aloft in victory.

“Who have you been texting, Francesca?” he demands, but I remain silent. “Tell me your passcode.”

Breathing heavily through my nose I glare at him, only now realising that I’m covered in berry smoothie having kicked over the glass over as I was so aggressively thrown from the bed.

When I continue to keep my mouth shut, he launches himself off the bed, and grabs me by the back of my head, wrapping my hair around his hand. He holds my head up and the phone in front of my face, but I close my eyes and grimace.

I don’t see him wind his arm back so the slap comes as a shock. My head snaps to the side and my cheek stings where his hand collides with it.

“What are you doing?” I cry out, trying to clutch at my burning cheek. “I don’t understand!”

“Let me unlock your phone or I’ll do a lot more than slap you,” he threatens and holds the phone in my face again.

This time it unlocks and he quickly goes to my recently sent messages. I can see Massimo has responded, but not what he said.

“FUCK!” Stefan screams and a bubble of hope grows in my chest. Massimo has seen my messages. He will save me. Despite how angry I have been with him, I know he will come for me.

Stefan staggers from the room, almost forgetting to lock it behind him. He thunders down the stairs still shouting and swearing to himself. Frustration at my naivety has me banging the heel of my palm against my head. Like a complete moron, I have leapt from the frying pan into the fire and now my options are exhausted.

Massi will come.

Outside the sky turns from pink to purple as darkness falls. There is a loud knock on the front door and my heart leaps into my throat.Is it him?

But Massimo wouldn’t knock if he was trying to rescue me, right?