72. Daniela
I’m in the back of a van that Lara forced me into, stuffed inside a long, narrow container used to store therapy equipment. It’s coffin-like, with a few holes along the perimeter, too small to allow much air flow. I feel like I’m suffocating, and I try to keep my breathing slow and shallow to conserve oxygen.
I’ve been trying to keep calm by counting backward. It works for a short time, but I don’t get very far before I’m thinking about Valentina.
Santi and Mia will keep her safe. Duarte couldn’t keep you safe. He was only one person.
Stop, Daniela. You’re sucking up too much air.
79, 78, 77, 76…
As soon as Antonio learns I’m gone, he’ll increase her security and look for me. My wedding ring has a tracker. They’ll activate it, if they haven’t already, and he’ll find me. I know he will.
75, 74, 73…
The van swerves and comes to a stop. When the rear door opens, there are muffled voices.
What if they find me? I can’t let them. Lara’s men at the school will grab my baby.
“Valentina will be on the way to make an old man’s dreams come true.”
No! No! No! I will not let that happen.
I hold my breath until the door slams shut.
We’re moving again, although slower. That must have been some sort of security check. Maybe we’ve reached where she’s taking me.
The van inches over a small bump before it comes to a complete stop. Lara cuts the engine. I think she’s driving, but I don’t know.
I hear voices as the back door is pulled open. Men’s voices. I don’t recognize them. And Lara. I hear Lara.
The lid is removed from the container where I’m hiding. “Get out,” Lara hisses.
My eyes adjust to the light as I climb out. But my limbs are so stiff and unstable from being folded into that box that I stumble out of the van.
A strong arm grabs me roughly before I fall.
“You’re so clumsy,” she chides.
I glance at the man beside her, and then at the younger one still holding me by the arm. They look to be guards. They each have a rifle slung over their shoulder, and the older of the two is holding a handgun.
“Where am I?” I ask the younger guard, who doesn’t look quite as menacing as the older one.
He doesn’t answer.
“She’s a stupid whore,” Lara says, with all the superiority that she usually reserves for Paula. “But she gave me no trouble.”
“You did good,” the older guard says before lifting his gun and shooting Lara point-blank in the head.
I jump at the bang.
Lara crumples to the dirty floor. Lifeless eyes stare into nothing as a halo of blood expands around her head.
It’s the sort of thing nightmares are born of, but I keep my eyes fixed on the horror because I’m afraid to look at the man who pulled the trigger.
“I hope you’re smarter than she is,” the guard taunts, holstering his weapon, “because there’s no stupider whore than her.”
The younger guard pulls me through the garage into a house I don’t recognize.
It’s in pristine condition. Neat as a pin, with expensive furnishings and artwork. It smells of lemon oil.
There are photographs clustered on a table in a room we pass, but I’m too far away and moving too quickly to be able to identify anyone in the photos.
The place is enormous, but I don’t see another human being who might help me.
No one here is going to help you. Pay attention to your surroundings so you can help yourself.
We move silently until we reach a wing in what seems like the farthest end of the house. The guards take me through a few locked doors before we stop. I hold my breath as the older guard knocks a couple of times.
A gray-haired man in a costly suit opens the door. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him.
He steps aside without a word and the guard shoves me into a room, where terror seizes me. I take a step back, and then another, until I bang into a chair.
Abel Huntsman is propped in a wheelchair, the Premier logo hanging on the wall behind him.
My skin crawls.
He’s old and his skin is shriveled like a rotten fig. But even feeble, he terrifies me.
I look from one man to the other. I’m not sure who’s in charge. Maybe the man in the suit? “Why am I here?” I mutter at him, when I can speak.
“Sit down and shut up,” the older guard warns, slapping me hard across the face.
“No, no, no,” the man in the suit tuts. “Senhora Daniela is our guest.
“You’re here as bait, dear,” the man explains. “Just like you came when your daughter was threatened, your husband will come for you.”
I begin to sob. Lara was right. I’m a stupid woman. But what choice did I have? Antonio’s going to follow the tracker in my ring. And they’re going to kill him. It’s too late. Maybe not. Maybe they don’t know I’m gone yet.
Abel blinks several times at the older man.
“Bind her securely to the chair,” he tells the guards.
I need to get rid of this ring. Maybe flush it down the toilet.
“May I use the bathroom first, please?”
“No,” the older guard barks, pushing me into a chair.
It’s okay. Antonio will know it’s a trap. He’ll bring soldiers with guns. Cristiano and Lucas won’t let him walk into an ambush. It’s true. I just need to bide my time until they get here.
I shudder when the guard places his rough hands near my breasts, but I don’t fight. My goal is to stay alive until Antonio and his men get here. He’ll know it’s a trap. They’ll plan for it. I know they will.
Abel doesn’t speak, but his eyes track my every movement, as though he’s alert. It’s eerie. Like a photograph in a horror movie. But this isn’t a movie. This is real-life horror.
“We’ll leave you to relax,” the man in the suit says. The guards snicker as they leave.
It’s just Abel and me in the room.
The panic rises, and I can’t seem to control it. I plant my feet on the floor firmly and wiggle my toes to ground myself.
I scan the room, noticing details I don’t give a damn about. It’s an office of some kind. There’s a heavy wooden desk. And floor-to-ceiling windows, mostly covered by heavy drapes. There are two doors. The one we came in, and another behind Abel. They’re made of the same dark wood.
After a few minutes, my heart stops pounding quite as hard.
I can’t look at Abel. But I don’t dare shut my eyes. I’m afraid to even blink.
Eventually I drift into a state of limbo. My body remains alert and my eyes keen, but I’m somewhere else, thinking about Valentina.
“It’s so nice to see you again, my dear,” a man’s voice says. “It’s been such a long time.”
I scream and jerk, nearly tipping the chair over. A few drops of urine leak into my underpants.
I—I was—under the impression that he didn’t speak. That he wasn’t alert at all. My heart is thundering again, and I clench my hands into fists to try to regain some control.
But I say nothing.
“Were you surprised to see me?”
His voice is weaker, but I would know it anywhere.
I open my mouth, but I can’t make any words come out.
He presses a button on the chair, and it moves until he’s just a few feet from me. “I don’t like to repeat myself, Daniela, especially to a woman. Were you surprised to see me?”
I pull in a breath. But I still can’t talk. Move your head up and down. Up and down. You can do that. Up and down.
I don’t feel my head move, but it must have, because he smiles at me with a mouth full of graying teeth. “Good. I love surprises. I hope you do too, because I have so many planned.”