
I groan in frustration as I rummage through my entire room looking for... something.
Although, I have forgotten what exactly it is I'm looking for... I'm still not giving up the search.
Crazy? ... Maybe. Yes.
But is it necessary?... Yes to that too. If I want to hold onto this tiny spectrum of sanity I have left, that is.
It's been three days of radio silence.
I didn't plan it. Not exactly.
But after hours of pacing the same four corners of my room like a damn caged animal, something in me snapped.
They could lock the doors, post guards, bark orders like I was some prisoner in Gucci... but they couldn't chain my thoughts. And those thoughts? They were getting louder.
I needed air. I needed out.
Just as I yanked my window open—not to escape,of course, I'd probably land on my neck and die and that wouldn't do me any good now, would it?
I just needed to breathe.
There was a knock at the door, Soft, hesitant. Which was strange, considering how no one in this house ever tiptoed around anything. Not for me, at least.
I opened the door a sliver.
Ignacio.
He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, looking like he wanted to punch something. Or someone. Me, probably. We hadn't exactly been on speaking terms since the last family showdown. But he definitely didn't look like he was here to beg for my forgiveness.
"I distracted the guards," he said, voice low.
I narrowed my eyes. "What?"
"You want to leave, right?" His eyes flicked past me, to the inside of my room. "This is your window."
I blinked. "Since when do you play rebel brother?"
He ignored that. "You've got ten minutes before someone notices I pulled rank."
"Oh, so now you're pulling rank?"
"Val," he snapped, then dropped his voice again. "Do you want to get out or not?"
I studied him. There was something burning under his skin—frustration, guilt, something else I couldn't quite place. But for once, he wasn't hiding it behind that cool, collected wall of his. And me? I wasn't about to ask questions.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, quieter now.
"Because I'm tired of watching you be used like a pawn. And because no one else around here seems to remember you're not some pretty little sacrificial lamb."
I didn't respond. Just stared.
Then I nodded, grabbed my coat, shoved some cash in my wallet, and headed for the backstairs.
As I passed him, he caught my arm briefly. "Val… Don't do anything reckless."
I offered a sweet smile. "Define reckless."
He sighed, muttered something under his breath, and let me go.
°°°
I'm a woman of many skills, and I'm not just saying this to brag. I'm just saying it how it is.
Multi-talented.
That, of course, explains why in currently making my big escape on my brother's motorcycle.
Pretty badass, right?
I know.
Now, onto more pressing matters... I have no idea where I'm headed. I can't go back to my penthouse, for obvious reasons. And it was my safe haven.
So now, I'm like a deer caught in headlights, just with more sass.
The wind bites at my face as the motorcycle roars beneath me, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white.
God, I missed this.
Freedom.
Even if it's temporary. Even if it's fake. Even if it comes with consequences sharp enough to gut me later.
Right now, it's mine.
I slow at a red light somewhere in Manhattan, the engine rumbling between my legs like a living, breathing thing. My fingers tighten around the handles, leather creaking softly.
My brother taught me how to ride when I was sixteen. Said if I was going to be born into this family, I might as well know how to escape it too.
Funny, I doubt this is what he meant.
My phone vibrates inside my coat pocket. I ignore it, it vibrates again, and again, and again.
I curse under my breath and pull over into a dimly lit side street, killing the engine. The sudden silence is deafening.
I pull out the phone.
Ignacio.
Of course it's him.
I stare at it for a moment before answering.
"What?" I say, no greeting.
His voice comes through low and urgent. "Where are you?"
I roll my eyes even though he can't see me. "Out."
"Val."
"Ignacio."
A pause. Then a sharp exhale. "They know you're gone."
Well. That was fast.
"And?" I say lightly.
"And Father is furious."
I let out a humorless laugh. "What else is new?"
Another pause, longer this time.
Long enough to make something uneasy coil in my stomach.
"There's something else," Ignacio says carefully.
I frown. "What?"
"He's here."
My grip tightens on the phone.
Cold dread slides down my spine, slow and deliberate.
I swallow. "Who? " But I already know.
Ignacio doesn't say the name right away.
"Massimo."
°°°
I ended up at a hotel. One that normally isn't my scene but it'll do, for now.
" Here's your key card, beautiful. You're 306, just take the elevator up" the red-head, talkative reception, whom I learned is Vanessa Doyle, born and raised in America with Irish decent, has 2 cats, fanboy and chum-chum and a boyfriend, Thomas, chirped.
And yes, I know all this because she told me; a total stranger. Es muy habladora.
(she is very talkative)
"Thanks" I say, straighfaced, as I was too tired to fake a smile.
I grabbed my shopping bags from the counter and made my way to the elevator.
Yes, I splurged, but on basic necessities.
I finally got into my room and took off my shoes before giving the place a once-over.
We'll, it definitely isn't the four seasons.
But it'll have to do.
...
I don't remember falling asleep.
I remember the room, the curtains, the faint smell of something cheap airfreshner in the air, the hum of the air conditioner.
I remember telling myself I'd just rest for a minute, just close my eyes long enough to think straight.
That was the plan; But Plans don't mean much, apparently. Something feels wrong before I even open my eyes.
Heavy.
That's the first thing.
My body feels… heavy, like it doesn't belong to me, like someone replaced my limbs with something slower, weaker.
My head throbs, a dull ache pressing behind my eyes, and my mouth is dry, like I haven't had water in days.
I try to move, but quickly realized that it was a bad idea.
A wave of dizziness hits me so hard I freeze, my stomach is turning, my breath catching halfway up my throat. For a second, I don't know where I am, don't know what's happening, don't know anything except that something is very, very wrong.
I force my eyes open.
Its dark. Not completely, but close enough.
The light is dim, shifting, like it's not fixed in one place. It flickers across metal walls, scratches, shadows that move when I do.
Metal.
That's when it clicks. This isn't a room. My heartbeat stutters, then picks up fast.
I'm not in the hotel anymore.
I push myself up, slower this time, ignoring how my arms tremble under my own weight. My vision swims, blurs at the edges, but I fight through it, blinking hard until shapes start to settle.
There's a door, it's closed.
No window, not real ones, just narrow slits near the top, barely letting in any light.
The floor vibrates beneath me.
Movement.
The realization lands all at once.
I'm in a van.
My breath comes out shallow as I press my palm against the cold metal wall beside me. It steadies me, just a little, something solid in the middle of everything spinning out of control. Is this a dream?
How did this happen? How did they get into my room and not get caught? How did they know where I was? Was I being followed?
Okay, Valerie,Think.
I need to think.
Last night, the motel.
I got the room, locked the door, checked the windows, twice. No mistakes. I don't make mistakes like that. I don't get careless... Much.
So how—
My thoughts cut off as the van hits a bump, my shoulder slamming lightly against the side.
Ouch!
Not a dream, this is real.
Okay.
Okay.
Panic won't help.
I drag in a slow breath, even though it feels like it sticks halfway in my chest. My fingers curl against the floor, grounding myself, forcing my body to catch up with my mind.
I'm not tied.
That's the first thing I notice.
No ropes, no cuffs, nothing holding me down except whatever they used on me.
Sedation. It has to be. That explains the heaviness, the way my thoughts feel half a second too slow.
My pulse quickens again, but this time I push it down, forcing it into something useful.
If they wanted me dead, I wouldn't be waking up. Which means they want something. A bitter taste settles at the back of my throat.
Of course they do.
I shift again, testing my balance. Still weak, but not useless.
Not yet.
The van slows slightly, then keeps moving.
I tilt my head, listening.
Voices. It was Faint. Muffled through the metal. And I could tell It was male voices.
I can't make out words, just tones, low and steady, like this is normal for them, like this is just another job.
My fingers curl into fists.
Wrong girl.
They picked the wrong girl.
I lift my head fully now, ignoring the way the world tilts slightly to the left, and focus on the door in front of me.
Wherever they're taking me…
That's where this really starts.
Long time no chapter!
I hope this chapter wasn't completely horrible x
See y'all in the next one. 🤍✨