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His breath smelled of cheap vodka and cigarettes, making my stomach churn. He loomed over me, his bulky frame blocking the faint light from the single bare bulb hanging overhead. His fingers clenched the bucket handle as the remnants of water sloshed around at the bottom.

“Wakey, wakey, princess,” he sneered. “I think it’s time to play some more, don’t you agree?”

“How about we play fetch? Do you have a ball?” I teased. “You know, since you’re pretty much a lapdog.”

His hand shot out, his fingers curled into a fist as I braced myself for the blow, my heart pounding against my ribs. But just as his fist was about to connect with my cheek, a loud crash echoed in the room. And just like that, he froze.

“Get the fuck out,” a deep voice boomed from the doorway, masked man number three coming into view.

He was taller and broader than the others. He strode into the room, shoving him aside.

“Boss didn’t want a hair on her head harmed and look at her,” he snarled. “She’s a mess!”

“Wow, thanks for the compliment.” I said, letting my head fall back as the ice water dripped down my front.

He never took his threatening eyes off me as he exited the room. Slamming the door behind him, I was left with the man who seemed to call the shots. He approached me, carrying a tray of something vile looking.

He set the tray down beside me. I cast my gaze downward, clocking what was on it. Stale bread, a chuck of cold meat, and a bowl of what looked like watery soup. I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the rising urge to gag. He grabbed the spoon, scooping up a mouthful of soup. Before I had time to react, his gloved hand cupped my chin, forcing my head up.

“Eat,” he commanded, his breath warm against my cheek.

My eyes narrowed, defiance sparking within me. No matter how hungry I was, I would never eat something they prepared. I refused to open my mouth, as he growled in frustration, his grip tightening on my chin.

“Why can’t you just do as you’re told?” he asked with a sneer, unable to keep his cool.

In one swift movement, I bit him, clamping down hard on the flesh between his thumb and index finger. He yelped, letting a sharp intake of breath escape him. He jerked his hand back, but I held on, my teeth sinking in deeper.

“Bitch!” he bellowed, the spoon clattering to the floor as he pried my mouth open. He stumbled back, cradling his hand as his mask slipped slightly.

“I was trying to help you,” he spat. “I was trying to keep those animals away from you. I was protecting you for my boss.”

“I don’t need your protection,” I hissed. “I don’t need anyone’s protection.”

“Not even your husband’s?” He laughed. “Poor bastard thinks you’ve left him.” He leaned into me, his mouth beside my ear. “But that’s a story for Boss to tell you, and boy, did weexecute the plan to perfection.” He broke the stare first as I tried to understand what he meant about Lorenzo thinking I’d left him.

“He’ll find me, you know.” I sounded so damn certain, but I was anything but.

“Sure he will.” He scoffed. “But until thatdoesn’thappen, eat something,” he said, picking up the spoon that was decorated by lint and whatever else lived in the carpet.

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned his back to me before pausing for a second. “He won’t come, Anastacia. Remember, you were nothing but a pawn in his game. Boss had us save you. You should be thankful.”

And with that he was gone, leaving the stale food out of reach as his words played on repeat like a broken record.

He won’t come, Anastacia.

How he said my name was so familiar. Almost as if I’d heard it a thousand times. I racked my brain over and over until it dawned on me…

He worked for my father.

19

It had been a week.

A whole fucking week since I last saw my wife.

The dim glow of the security monitors illuminated the desk as I scoured the CCTV footage for the umpteenth time. I’d lost count how many times I watched it over the past week, looking for something that wasn’t there. I’d torn apart every inch of her room, even every inch of mine. I’d had the grounds searched repeatedly but there was fuck all.