Chapter 2

MINA

I huddled with one eye open, watching the door while I let myself drift off again.

The doze wasn't deep enough to dream, not this time. Sometimes that was a mercy. The nightmares left me wanting to scratch my own skin off.

But the dreams were the worst. They helped me escape this hell, but when I woke here, I shattered all over again. Each time felt like a cruel joke. One my brain played on me over and over.

I couldn't blame my subconscious for wanting to take me out of here. It was trying to help me. I wished it would stop. All of it. The dreams, the nightmare and the reality.

Sounds from outside the room brought me fully awake.

Voices. Crashes and scraping from above my head. If I thought hard enough, I could remember being brought into the building and down some stairs. Upstairs was vague, a hazy memory seen through sedated eyes.

The murmur of voices filtered through the ceiling right above me. I couldn't make out a word they said. Didn't try very hard. I'd heard voices up there before. They never came down here. The one time I shouted, trying to be heard…

I shuddered at the memory. Squeezed my arms tighter around myself.

Heavy footsteps walked across the upstairs floor. Most likely Kurt or someone who worked with him, or for him.

I lay down on my side and try to get comfortable. There was no comfort here, just worse positions than others. I'd grown accustomed to that a long time ago. Deserved it. Maybe more than I deserved to have my throat cut.

What was the saying about the good dying young? I didn't deserve the peace, even though I craved it, more than anything.

The footsteps moved across the floor, down to the end of the upstairs. Slowly, deliberately they drew closer.

I pushed myself up to my elbows and stared at the door.

If I could raise the chain and wrap it round my throat, I would have. They say it's impossible to strangle yourself, but I would have tried. Anything to stop Kurt from touching me.

Whether or not I deserved everything he did to me, I hated it more than I hated myself. Hated him.

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself back into my numb, emotionless place. I had to lock myself in here. I couldn't let him get behind these walls anymore. He always found a way, but I had to keep him out. I had to cling to the last piece of sanity I had.

I asked myself why. Would it be better if I broke? If I lost myself completely. Maybe then I could switch off. Disappear to a place I'd never feel another thing again. Not death, but close enough.

The door rattled.

I frowned. Kurt would have unlocked it. Unless I'd finally lost my mind, whoever it was, they didn't have a key.

The murmur of voices was louder now, just on the other side of the door. Two distinct voices, at least.

"In my experience, people who keep things behind locked doors have something to hide," one of the voices said.

The others said something that sounded like agreement. "Open it."

A handful of moments later, something slammed against the door.

It held.

"Feels solid to me, boss," the first voice said. "Can I shoot the lock off?"

Apparently he was allowed to, because the question was followed by a gunshot, so loud it hurt my ears.

I clapped my hands over them and shrunk down, wincing.

The door swung open slowly.

"Ugh, it stinks in there, boss." In the gloom, I made out a figure waving a hand in front of his nose.

"You've smelled worse, Gianni," his boss said. He pulled out a phone and turned on the torch.

"True, boss," Gianni agreed. "I've probably made worse smells."

His boss grunted and stepped into the room, moving his phone around to illuminate the space.

I half closed my eyes against the sudden glare. They hadn't been subjected to light that bright in too long.

Gianni pulled out his own phone and waved the torch around the other side of the room. He stepped off to the side and stopped in front of the cage. He shone the light right at me. "Um, boss?"

I threw my arm up in front of my face to shield my eyes.

"What—" The second man turned. "Fuck."

"Fuck is right," Gianni said. "Is that…"

One of the men crouched down in front of the cage, not close enough to touch it with his expensive suit.

"Yes, I believe it is." He turned his face into Gianni's light.

My breath caught in my throat. I knew that face. Those cold, calculating ice blue eyes that saw everything. The strong chin covered in a layer of stubble. The strong mouth, often set in a line of disapproval.

He turned back to me, his voice a combination of gravel and honey. He never raised his voice. He didn't have to. When he spoke, people listened, before leaping to do what he said.

"Mina DiMarco, what are you doing here?"

"Reuben," I whispered.

He turned to Gianni and nodded.

I'd never believed in a higher power. No one was coming to save me from this hell. Not until now. Finally, I could get the one thing I craved so much.

Finally, I could die.

I ducked my head and waited.

"Get her out of there," Reuben said.

"On it, boss." Gianni nodded. "You might want to cover your faces." He slid out his gun and aimed it at the lock on the cage.

Reuben rose and stepped aside.

Elbows down to cover my chest, I put my hands over my eyes and tried not to wince at the second gunshot. The bullet slammed into the lock, blasting it into splinters. The cage door creaked ajar.

Gianni forced it open all the way, the hinges squeaking in protest.

Reuben slid off his suit jacket and offered it to me, along with his hand. The first I accepted and wrapped around myself. The other, I just stared at.

"I can't—" I tilted my head toward the strap around my ankle.

"I'm starting to hate this Lasalle prick," Gianni remarked. He put away his gun and pulled out a knife. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, this is going to hurt like a bitch."

He climbed into the cage and gripped my calf with surprisingly gentle fingers.

I flinched at his touch, but not enough to dislodge his hand. I didn't have the strength for that, even if I wanted to. I hated myself for my weakness, but I hated Kurt more.

Gianni and I had that much in common.

"How the…" He grunted.

"What is it?" Reuben asked.

Gianni directed the answer at me. "How long has this been on here? It looks like the skin has tried to grow up around it." His dark eyes looked angry, but not with me. There was a coldness about him, but a softness as well. The contract was too conflicting for me to figure out right now.

Reuben swore under his breath.

I could only shrug slightly and shake my head. "I don't know." I drew Reuben's jacket around myself tighter as Gianni searched for a place to slip the knife and cut the strap.

"Can you hold the light over here, boss?" He nodded towards my ankle.

Reuben stepped closer, holding his torch over Gianni's hands.

"It's lucky I like sharp knives." Gianni glanced at me and grinned before slicing through the leather of the strap like he was cutting an overcooked steak.

"This might suck." He put his knife away and gripped the two sides of the strap. Slowly and carefully he eased it away from my ankle. The leather stuck to my skin and the flesh underneath it.

He was right, it hurt like a bitch. The skin stung, trying to hold onto the strap like it was a part of itself. Every so often, he had to stop and push the skin down to pry the leather off.

"This has to have been there for… If I had to guess, I'd say years." He worked it loose and finally tossed it aside.

I blinked away tears of pain and forced myself to focus on what was more important. I was no longer attached to the chain. I could hardly grasp what that even meant. Was I free after so long, or was this a whole new level of hell?

I guessed Kurt hadn't invited them here. Otherwise they wouldn't have needed to force their way in, or break the lock in the cage. Unless this was some kind of sick game.

"Come on, sweetheart." Gianni backed out of the cage.

After a brief hesitation, I followed, crawling out and grabbing the side of the cage to pull myself to my feet.

"What the hell did he do to you?" Reuben asked softly.

"Where is he?" I peered towards the door. He said he'd come back. If he did, he'd find us all here.

"My guess is he saw us coming and ran," Gianni said. He seemed cheerful at the idea. Like he was amused at Kurt's cowardice.

"We'll deal with him," Reuben said darkly.

"Slowly and painfully," Gianni said. "If you want, you can watch."

I glanced at him. If anyone was doing anything slow and painful to Kurt, I wanted to do more than watch.

"We have some talking to do," Reuben said. He nodded towards the stairs. "Can you walk?"

I seemed to have three options: stay here, be carried or walk. I wasn't doing the first. The idea of either of them touching me gave rise to a spike of panic.

"I can walk," I said finally. "What are you going to…"

Reuben Brantley was high up in a huge organised crime network here in Australia. The Australian mafia, if you wanted to call it that. Before Kurt, our families were at odds. I couldn't rule out his intention to kill me, or worse.

"We're going to get you out of here." It was Gianni who replied. "Right, boss?"

I heard him referring to Reuben as boss several times now. Of course things would have changed since I was here, but the changes seemed to be bigger than I would have expected. I filed that thought away for later.

Reuben glanced at Gianni and stepped out of the room and up the stairs, leaving us to follow.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Gianni said. He made no effort to lower his voice. He wanted Reuben to hear what he was saying, whether he agreed with him or not.

Reuben grunted in response.

I grabbed hold of the handrail and strained to pull myself up the first couple of steps. I knew I was weak, emaciated. Until now, I hadn't realised how badly. I hadn't walked more than a few steps in…

"How long?" I asked softly.

Reuben stopped at the landing and turned around. "According to your father, you ran off to marry some nice boy and live in the suburbs."

Of course that was the line my father concocted. He would have had to tell people something.

"How long?" I asked again.

He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Five years. That was five years ago." He turned back around and continued up the stairs.

I put a hand over my mouth. If Gianni hadn't grabbed me, I would have fallen back down the stairs. Could it be possible? And yet, I knew it was. It felt like a lifetime and it almost had been.

I lowered my hand. "I was eighteen."

"Then you're owed a few birthday presents," Gianni said. "Five of them. You must be twenty-three. I really, really hate Kurt Lasalle right now."

My head was spinning so fast I had to let him help me the rest of the way up the steps.

I'd missed out on five years of my life. What else had I missed out on?