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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I fought to stay conscious as waves of nausea coursed through my body, but the darkness was still too strong, pulling me under like a violent current.

When I came to again, I was in the back of a moving van. It was dark, and the acrid smell of gasoline mixed with laundry detergent filled my nostrils.

Weird combination.

I moved my head—not a good idea. It felt like my head was split open. I closed my eyes again and focused on my breathing.

After a while, the excruciating pain lessened to a dull throbbing, and I opened them again. It took me a while to make sense of what I was seeing right before my eyes until I realized it was the back of someone’s head.

I pulled back a little, then tried to sit up—but failed. My hands were bound behind my back.

I tried to breathe deeply, but panic clawed at my chest. The van’s movement, the darkness, the smell—it all triggered memories I’d fought so hard to bury. Suddenly, I wasn’t in this van anymore. I was back in Italy, trapped in that dark basement with my sisters, terrified and helpless.

The walls seemed to close in around me. I could hear Cara’s muffled sobs, the smell, the musty air of our prison. My heart raced, threatening to burst from my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the flashback to end, but it only intensified.

No. I couldn’t lose it. Not now. I needed to stay alert, to find a way out. For myself and for the others.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to focus on my breathing. In for four counts, hold for four, out for four, hold for four—just like my therapist taught me. I repeated the pattern, concentrating on the numbers, on the steady rhythm of my breath on the box I visualized.

Slowly, the panic began to recede. The echoing sounds of that basement faded, replaced by the hum of tires on asphalt. I was here, now.

I flexed my fingers behind my back, feeling the bite of the restraints. The pain helped ground me in reality. I wasn’t helpless anymore. I’d learned, grown stronger. I’d learned how to fight, found something worth fighting for. I’d found Vince, and he needed me to get a grip.

Vince. The thought of him sent a pang through my chest. Did word get out already? Was he already looking for us? Because if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that he’d be tearing the world apart looking for me.

I couldn’t let him down. I had to be strong, had to find a way out of this mess.

With each breath, I felt calmer, more in control. The panic had passed, leaving me exhausted but clear-headed. I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings with renewed focus. There had to be a way out of this.

And I was going to find it.

I rolled to the side, away from whoever was lying next to me until I bumped into the wall, then propped myself up into a sitting position by pushing against it.

Isa, Mira, Milli, and Birdie were lying on white sheets.

So that’s where the laundry detergent came from. “Hey,” I whispered, but there was no reaction.

They were unconscious, their hands bound like mine and packed like sardines.

My head throbbed as I tried to piece together what had happened. This wasn’t some random attack. The precision, speed, equipment, and sheer scale of the operation—it all pointed to something meticulously planned.

I rolled towards Birdie who was closest to me, bent down, and listened. Her chest was rising and falling steadily. Hopefully, the same was true for Isa, Mira, and Milli.

All the women in the convoy. Was there a separate van with all the men? Or did they specifically target us? But why? What made us so special?

I recalled the attacker’s words: “The boss wants them unharmed.” A chill ran down my spine. Who was this mysterious boss? Vince’s dad? And why did he want us unharmed? To pressure Vince?

My mind raced through all the possibilities I could come up with.

Or was it connected to our hacking? But then, why take Mira, Birdie, and Milli, as well? And how would he even have known about our whereabouts?

No, this felt different. More personal somehow. Was Alfredo Salvini using us as leverage in his deadly game with Vince?

I glanced at Isa still out cold. What value could we possibly have to make it worth this elaborate abduction?

The van hit a bump, jostling us.

Birdie suddenly jumped up, her eyes wide. Her figure in the semi-darkness resembled an Amazon warrior queen, her stance conveying her full-on fighting mode.

She closed in on me and met my eyes before she turned her head and shifted her focus to the front.

Muffled voices came through from the front, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Whoever these people were, they were professionals. No loose talk, no hints.

The van came to a stop, and fear started to creep in. What did they have planned for us? And how long before Vince and the others realized we were missing?

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts. There had to be a leak. Somehow, Vince’s father must’ve found out. But why take us? Why now?