Page 37 of The Italian Reckoning (A New York Criminal Empire #3)

SARAH

“' D oesn’t it feel that way this time? That everything I’ve worked for is finally going to be displayed in this absolutely gorgeous masterpiece.

If we’re lucky, they’ll give you a front page spread and I’ll get to see my work spread out world wide.

You know how the interest is these days.

A single picture is forever. I’m going to be remembered in history. ”

God, will he ever shut up ?

I don’t know when but at some point, a part of me completely shut off from everything Bobby was saying. Maybe it was when his blade moved from my abdomen to my thighs, or when he was debating how terrible it would be if he forgot to sign his own work. At some point, I disconnected from everything.

It almost feels like I’m above my body watching everything happen rather than experiencing it myself. The pain is familiar, like the ache of an old ankle injury years after the fact. His skill with the blade seems to have improved since the last time.

What an odd thought.

As if this takes any skill.

Each incision is shallow and precise across my abdomen as he waffles about taking his time and making sure we both enjoy the moment.

Long, thin incisions down my thighs hurt less than the smaller ones on my body.

They join together and form one singular throbbing ache that flares up hot every time I take a deep breath.

Still, I watch from above. My constant tears don’t register. Even the whimpers, muffled sobs, and yelps don’t sound like my own voice.

“Fucking hell!” Bobby’s anger snaps me back into my body, so disconnected that I hadn’t realized he’d stopped until now.

He stares down at his phone with a deep frown on his face, then mutters to himself.

“Dog shit security system. Sorry, babe.” His eyes flick up to mine.

“Looks like we’ll have to hurry things along. ”

Anger fogs his eyes as he turns to the tray next to my table and starts aggressively moving and slamming his tools around. He finds whatever he’s looking for within a couple of minutes and then suddenly, he’s over me with a bright red lipstick in hand. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

Oh, no.

Please, no!

As soon as the horrible leather strap is removed from my mouth, sobs pour out of me but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get words to form. Anything I want to say is swallowed up by sobs and my jaw trembles when I press my lips together.

Do something, Sarah! Fucking do something!

But I can’t. I’m too fucking scared.

He holds my jaw firmly with one hand and smears the red lipstick across my swollen, damp lips.

Each touch makes me recoil violently, but with nowhere to go, I’m trapped as he works.

He swaps out the red lipstick for cakey foundation that he smears messily over my cheeks, then globs of vibrant color are stroked over my damp eyes.

He’s rushing.

This makeup application lacks the finesse of what happened to me before. Back then, he took his time using brushes and wands to apply everything perfectly. Even Belle and Kara looked professionally painted. So why is he rushing?

What was on his phone?

“Don’t you look beautiful.” Bobby smiles down at me with that familiar smile I saw every day at the coffee shop, only this time, it brings me a deep sense of horror rather than the comfort of repetition each time I start my day.

I try to say something back, try to even spit in his face, but I’m trembling so hard all I manage to do is moan fearfully. Each blink switches me between the present and the trauma of all those years ago when I was in the same situation.

Countless times, I swore this would never happen again. Countless times, I swore I would get better and make sure no one put me in this kind of position ever again.

How I lied to myself.

“Don’t worry,” Bobby says with a lazy sigh. “I’m not ending things yet. I just want a sneak peek.” He rises over me and pulls himself onto the table, hovering over me. I’m locked onto his eyes, staring up in terror as a cold, familiar squeak of plastic catches my ears.

Saran Wrap.

He spreads it out with his hands and then holds it up to the light, pulling it taut. The entire world blurs through the thin plastic as he lowers it down and presses it over my face.

There are no drugs to keep me in place this time, so at the first touch of the plastic, I jerk my head to one side, then the other when he follows. Each time he tries to press it neatly onto my face, panic has me jerking side to side, even up and down.

“Stop!” Bobby bellows. “You’re messing it up. You have to be perfect!”

On the next jolt of my head, Bobby throws his hand back and slaps me powerfully across the face, sending my head snapping to the opposite side and striking me so hard that I’m shocked into silence.

No tears. No whimpering.

Nothing but an odd daze.

He grasps my chin and forces me to look at him, then the plastic is placed over my face like a perfect mask and held down.

I can’t breathe. My world becomes blurred while the plastic covers me, and Bobby smooths it down with careful ease.

I try to suck in air but it causes the plastic to adhere firmer to my face and then there’s nothing.

No space. No air. Just Bobby’s cruel smile drifting about in front of my tear filled eyes.

Then he leans down and presses his lips to mine through the plastic.

I’m going to die.

This is it.

This is fucking it.

I’m going to die and it’s all my fa ? —

The plastic is ripped away suddenly and air rushes into my lungs so fast when I gasp that it makes me dizzy. In between my desperate coughs and gasps, Bobby holds the plastic up to the light and then tuts to himself.

“No, it’s not right,” he says, then his attention darts back to his phone as it buzzes on the table next to his keys. “Fucking hell.” Bobby sets the Saran Wrap down, picks up his phone, and stomps away while muttering about cheap Russians and bullshit perimeter alarms.

Silence falls, broken only by the deafening pounding of my heart.

He’s… gone?

Why did he leave?

As panic surges through me, all pain fades from my mind as a new terror grips me. What if he’s going to get something worse to hurt me with? What if something happens and he doesn’t come back?

“M–Move, Sarah,” I shakily whisper to myself as if the sound of my voice can fuel me. “ Move!”

It works for a moment. I start jerking my body left and right, pulling and tearing at my bindings. Pain doesn’t exist. Exhaustion doesn’t exist.

Only terror.

The table creaks and groans under my frantic, desperate movement. My heart pounds so wildly, I can’t hear if he’s coming back. I want to claw myself out of my own skin but I can’t. I’m trapped.

I’m fucking trapped!

Suddenly, dull pain shoots from my thumb all the way up my left forearm as my thumb dislocates and my hand slips free of the restraint in a rush.

I freeze, staring at my hand and barely able to understand what just happened.

But it’s a chance.

Slamming my hand down on the table pops my thumb back into place, then I snatch up Bobby’s keys and fight with trembling fingers through each key until I find the small one that unlocks the cuff trapping my other hand.

The same key thankfully matches the lock on the leather across my hips and the metal locking my ankles to the wood.

Then I throw myself from the table and immediately collapse to the floor.

Fear and trauma weakens my body and for a few terrifying moments, I lie on the stone floor unable to move. I can barely feel my hands and feet, never mind my legs.

“Get up,” I whisper. “Get up, Sarah. Get up!”

Energy surges from the depths of my soul and I scramble to my feet and sprint out of the room on unsteady legs. The room leads to a blank stone hallway that stretches in two similar directions, one light and one dark.

Footsteps echo and then Bobby’s intimidating form appears around the corner of the light and we stare at each other. The shock on his face melts into fury.

“Sarah!”

I turn and sprint toward the dark end of the corridor, praying it leads to somewhere, praying it leads to anywhere.

My bare feet slap on cold stone flooring as I run faster than I’ve ever run before.

Down the hall, around the corner, up some stone steps lacking any kind of railing, down another corridor.

I run and I run with my heart ready to break out of my chest and Bobby’s pounding boots tearing after me.

I don’t stop. I barely even remember to breathe.

Every second I’m away from him is a second closer to freedom. To safety.

I run through empty rooms filled with cement mixers and electrical components, down corridors with only half a wall, up and down stairs that are nothing but brick. This place is some sort of half-constructed building which means there has to be a way out nearby.

I run.

I run until I stumble out into a hallway that comes to a dead end and a yawning cavern between two halves of a building opens up to me.

Below are several construction vehicles tucked up for the night.

There’s stairs to my left next to a half-built elevator shaft and a half-finished room to my right that offers no safety and no protection.

“Shit!”

“Sarah!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Sarah, it’s me! Look up! Look up!”

Following the sound of the voice, a surge of painful relief explodes through me as I lock eyes with Rocky one floor up on the other side of the building. The look of horrified relief on his face tells me I must look awful, but seeing him feels like a dream.

“Rocky?”

“Sarah! Fucking hell, stay right there, okay? I’m coming.

You stay right there and I—duck!” Rocky screams that last word and instinct takes over.

I drop to the ground and Rocky raises his gun and fires several shots.

A scream of pain follows and a thud as just behind me, Bobby hits the floor clutching his shoulder.

He’s right there, less than a foot away.

Bobby scrambles up with a yelp of pain and our eyes meet. For a split second, it looks like he’s about to charge at me anyway. Instead, Bobby takes a step back.

He’s running.

No .

I can’t let him get away. Not this time.

All the guilt about Belle and Kara surges up like a wave, clawing at the inside of my throat.

My heart slows and through my tears, Bobby becomes crystal clear.

For so long, he’s had so much power over me.

For so long, he’s haunted my nightmares and forced me into a life of guilt and pain.

I can’t do that again.

Bobby turns to run and I surge upward with a scream, then launch myself onto his back like a spider monkey. He yells in fright and I distantly hear Rocky yell in horror. But it’s all background noise. I don’t have a plan.

I lock my legs around him and claw his face, slam my elbow down onto his injured shoulder, pull his hair, and try to use my weight to topple him backward. He yells and stumbles backward, twisting left and right to dislodge me, but rage and pain give me more strength than I knew I had.

“Fuck you!” I scream, finally finding my voice. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

Then, we’re floating.

Falling with the air rushing past me like the strong winds that dance past me on my rooftop.

Then the world goes black.