29. Vito

29

VITO

W hen I came to, I slowly opened my eyes. Wherever I was now was pitch black. Was I still in Benito’s basement?

As I became more aware, I realized that my body hurt everywhere. I remembered the fall down the stairs to the concrete floor. Shit, how badly was I hurt? Was anything broken? I tried to move my arms and bit down on my lip to keep from crying out in agony. They were tied behind me, and I was pretty sure one of my wrists was broken. It was at least badly sprained. So much for being able to untie myself, I was going to have to get really fucking creative.

I realized there was also tape over my mouth and ropes around my waist. When I tried to move to see how tight the ropes were, I gasped. Apparently, I had some badly bruised ribs. Hopefully they weren’t cracked. My legs seemed to fare better than the rest of me, but one of my knees was damn sore. Walking was going to hurt like hell, but if I could just get loose, I could do it. I could do anything I had to do.

Was my family looking for me? Were they looking for Benito? Where was he? What if he’d gone after Zeke? I needed to know, but I was sure Marshall would have taken my phone, and I couldn’t reach it even if it was still in my pocket.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized there was a tiny window high up on the wall. It was letting it a little bit of light, but not enough to really make out anything. Most likely I was still in the basement, but I hadn’t had a chance to notice what else was down here after my fall.

Whatever his immediate plan was, I was sure that Benito was not going to let me live. He was using me for bait right now, but I doubted his plan included me walking out of here.

I needed to find a way out. I needed to get to Zeke, and I’d never wanted to see Val as much as I did right then. Tears burned my eyes. I tried to fight them, but several ran down my cheeks. I’d been such a fucking idiot. I hadn’t trusted in my family. I hadn’t been able to wait.

I’d done every stupid thing they would’ve expected me to do. They’d trusted me. They thought I would keep it together and do this by the book—or by the mafia code anyway.

I heard footsteps above me and froze. Was that Benito or Marshall or someone else?

I kept quiet and ignored the pain in my wrist as I tried to stretch the ropes trapping my arms. I didn’t care if I broke every bone in my wrist, if I could get free and get out of here, it would be worth it.

More footsteps. There was more than one person here. That probably wasn’t good.

Then I heard a voice. His voice.