Chapter 51 Verity
Verity
Awaft of diesel fumes had my stomach roiling the moment my consciousness came back online. Cold, unyielding metal pressed against my cheek. Beneath the stench of spilled fuel, I smelled laundry detergent.
Was this a van?
It had to be. A plane wouldn't carry laundry.
When I unglued my eyelids, day had turned to night. Not much punctuated the inky blackness around me, but occasional flashes of light high up told me there were windows at the rear of the van and the bumps and shuddering of an engine said we were driving down a road.
A track rather than a road, judging by the way the van jolted every few minutes.
My hands and feet were free. Whoever took me probably assumed I wouldn't be stupid enough to try leaping from a moving vehicle. Well, the joke was on them. I really was that stupid. Or rather, desperate.
What happened?
I remembered going to the bathroom while Declan took a call. He'd been acting like a jackass and I'd needed some space before we boarded the plane. Only a stranger had entered the bathroom and stuck me with a needle.
This was bad.
Really bad.
Kidnapping someone from an airport took serious planning, which meant whoever had taken me must have known where I was going to be.
My father was the only person motivated enough to go after a nobody like me. How he'd found me, I had no clue, but crossing paths with Avram Marku in that shitty club clearly had something to do with it.
Would Declan be looking for me?
Had he even noticed I was missing?
I had no way of knowing how long it had been since the man took me from the airport bathroom. It could have been hours.
The vehicle jolted over another pothole, throwing me sideways. My head slammed against something hard, sending a burst of pain through my skull, but I swallowed it down and made no sound.
Be more like Thea, I told myself as my limbs shook with adrenaline. What would Thea do?
Thea would have a knife tucked away in her shoe, or a gun. She never went anywhere unarmed. I almost laughed. The thought of me carrying any kind of weapon was hilarious. I'd be more likely to hurt myself than my intended target.
I forced myself to think rather than panic. Consider my options. Not that there were many other than jumping out once the van slowed down.
It was a terrible plan, but the only one I had.
My head pounded, but I gritted my teeth and reached for the door, trying to find the locking mechanism. There was a handle, but it didn't budge an inch when I pushed and pulled it.
All I could do was wait until the van stopped and then try to make a run for it.
A shitty plan, but I refused to accept my fate without putting up a fight.
The days of rolling over and letting life punch me in the face were over.
The guys had seen something in me nobody else had. Yes, they weren't in it for the long haul, but each time they treated me with kindness and made me feel like a million dollars, I grew a little taller.
The Verity who'd allowed Anton to knock her down repeatedly without fighting back was gone. The new me wasn't about to take that shit anymore.
Even if nobody came to help me, I could still help myself. Sure, I wasn't Thea, but I had the same blood running through my veins.
Our father might have ignored me my whole life, but he'd taught me some valuable lessons.
There was strength in learning to live in the shadows. Power in overcoming adversity.
If Thea could be happy after all she'd endured, well, so could I.
And the only way to achieve that happiness was figuring out how to outwit whichever scumbags had taken me.
The van slowed down and stopped. My body tensed, preparing for what lay ahead. Not wanting to seem too alert, I slumped down and closed my eyes.
A chain rattled, followed by the murmur of voices. Then the van moved again, albeit slower. It felt as if we were ascending, which meant we were in the hills above Catania.
I dug back into my memories. Where was our estate? I recalled Thea telling me the authorities had confiscated the house, land, and everything on it, but not whether they'd disposed of it.
The land had been in the di Luca family for generations. Losing it would have been a major blow to Dad's pride.
The van stopped again. This time, the engine cut out and footsteps stomped toward the rear door.
A lock turned, and the door swung open to reveal two men, and behind them, a large building.
I didn't recognize it, so wherever we were, it wasn't our old estate.
Beyond the house lay dense forest. In the fading light, the place looked spooky as fuck.
The sort of place where kids would come to play with ouija boards and smoke dope.
I pretended to be drowsy and confused while praying for a miracle.
"Where am I?" The sedative caused my words to slur.
The men ignored me. "Get her out," the asshole apparently in charge told the other. "The boss wants to make sure she's unharmed."
The taller of the two men climbed into the loading bay and grabbed my ankle. I yelped when he tugged me across the metal floor.
"Fuck, be careful, you moron! If you hurt her, the boss will fucking kill you."
The tall guy scoffed. "The punters won't care if she has a few scratches on her. All they care about are tits and holes."
Oh god. Was he forcing me into prostitution?
"True," the second guy conceded. "She's special, though, so if anything happens to her, it's on your head, not mine."
"For fuck's sake, fine!" The tall one lifted me up and tossed me over his shoulder. The movement sent my already churning stomach into freefall and I immediately vomited down his back. I heard him yell in disgust before he dropped me like a sack of potatoes.
"You fucking filthy bitch!" A boot drove into my ribs, causing a burst of pain so visceral that I vomited all over again, heaving up the last of the pastries I'd eaten earlier.
The sound of a gunshot made me scream in shock as I lay on the floor, curled into a fetal position to protect my body from more kicks.
"I fucking told you to be careful with the girl," a third man snarled as my attacker hit the floor with half of his face missing. The corpse's one remaining eye stared at me accusingly as blood pooled beneath the shattered skull.
I closed my eyes to block out the disturbing sight. If the asshole who'd kicked me was now dead, it meant I had value. Whoever was behind this did not intend to hurt me. For now, at least.
It also meant there was one less guard watching me.
"Get her inside. The boss is waiting." A short, fat guy with prison tattoos on his neck dragged me toward a ramshackle old house with ivy-clad cream stone walls. The stonework had crumbled in places, but the thick entrance door appeared solid with a heavy-duty lock.
I desperately needed a drink to wash away the vile taste in my mouth.
The guard gripping my arm so hard it would surely leave bruises took me through a large reception area with a tiled floor, down a hallway where wallpaper peeled off the walls in moldy strips, and into a large gloomy room with tall windows overlooking an overgrown garden.
Cobwebs hung from an antique chandelier, adding to the gothic vibe.
I got the impression this place had once been grand, but not now. Outside, tall grass choked what remained of the shrubs, while an empty swimming pool yawned like a gaping black mouth just beyond.
A man in a shabby suit stood by the fireplace with a glass in his hand. He turned around when we entered, and my heart stuttered in my chest at the sight of my father.
It had been so long since I'd seen the monster who sired me, I probably wouldn't have paid him a second glance if we passed in the street. His broad frame had shrunk with age, and his thick black hair had turned gray. The once-handsome face that lingered in my nightmares was now crepey and sallow.
Prison had not been kind to him.
The soulless eyes that lingered on in my nightmares had lost none of their malice, however.
"Daughter, you have grown into a lovely young woman. So much like your dear departed mother, God rest her soul." He scanned me from head to toe, assessing my worth.
I wanted to feel something. Anything. But there was nothing. This man had contributed 50 percent of my DNA, but he wasn't my father. He'd done nothing to keep me safe or nurture me as a child.
It was hard not to shrivel under his amused gaze, but I straightened my back and glared at him, determined not to show any signs of weakness.
"Why am I here?"
Surprise flickered across his face.
"No hug for your Papa?" His lips curled. "You wound me, figlia."
"You didn't answer my question." I tried to maintain a calm and unfazed expression, like Thea would have in this situation, but I couldn't hide the tremor in my voice.
"You're my daughter. I've missed you."
I almost scoffed. "You never gave a shit about me."
His half-smile spoke volumes as he observed me like a snake watching a mouse. “You were the weak one. I had more use for your sister.” The sting of his words cut deep. He was right, though. I had always been the weak one in our fucked-up family.
“Let me go. Like you said, I’m useless.”
The door opened behind me and footsteps echoed through the sparsely furnished room.
“Sorry, but your father has agreed to let me take you in payment for my help.” I recognized the voice. It was the man from the club. The asshole who put his hands on me. The bastard Declan threatened to kill.
"Declan will come after me!"
The man chuckled. "Unlikely, but even if he tries, you'll be long gone." Marku frowned as he cast an assessing eye over me. "She's not much to look at, but she'll do," he informed my father dismissively. "But as long as she gives me an heir, I don't care what she looks like."
"She's all yours as long as you provide the weapons and men I need." Papa focused on Marku, ignoring me for the moment. Marku nodded.
"We made a deal. You've done your part, and I'll do mine."