30. Vinnie
My eyes are dry, but they still burn from the tears I want to shed but can’t. I’ve been crying since I realized what was happening, back before I watched my brother kill Ross.
When he dragged me into this warehouse and left me alone on this cold, hard chair, the only thing I could do was cry.
A chill racks through my body as a breeze pulls through a shattered window high above me. The sun set a while ago and the air is now cold without the warmth of the rays beating down on the metal frame of the building.
Joseph hasn’t come back, but I know he’s watching me. I can feel his eyes through the window of the office behind me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking over my shoulder to confirm my suspicions. So I look straight ahead and try to think of things that make me happy.
The things I have to live for.
Most importantly, I think of Sly, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he knows something is terribly wrong.
Will he find me?
Yes. It’s not a matter of if, but when,I remind myself.
My stomach rumbles, flipping slowly with a faint nausea lacing through me, and I wish I could rub it, if only to ease some of the discomfort.
It’s only been hours since I found out the reason I’ve been feeling so off lately, and the cause of my ever persistent nausea. I should have realized sooner and taken a test, but I’ve been so wrapped up in my husband that I chalked everything up to being completely thrown off my normal day-to-day routine.
That, and travel. Jet lag does strange things to the body. But when it didn’t go away, I grew suspicious. There’s a reason why contraception was invented.
The moment I took the test, the word pregnant appeared within seconds. It took everything I had to not immediately call Sly and tell him.
I was supposed to tell him tonight.
A sob catches in my throat, but the tears still won’t fall.
“Pathetic,” Joseph’s voice sneers from behind me. I hadn’t heard him approach. I was too caught up in my thoughts. “You just never stop crying, do you?”
“It’s not every day your big brother kidnaps you,” I croak, my throat feeling dry now, too.
“I’m a little disappointed your husband hasn’t shown up to find you yet. I thought he would have figured out where you are by now.”
“How would he know to come look here?” I prod to keep him talking. If he’s talking, maybe he won’t hurt me.
“He strikes me as the type of man who’s in constant contact with his family, including his piece of shit cousin. The same cousin who dug into my personal business and followed me out here one day. Did I ever tell you that story? Don’t worry–I roughed him up. Still, though, it should have been easy for them to put two-and-two together. Maybe I gave Sly too much credit.”
“Why are you telling me this, Joseph?”
“Because it won’t matter, anyway. You see, if this plays out like I hope it does, then by the time you have the ability to speak with anyone of importance—like say, the police—you’ll be too deep in your grief over your dead husband to realize that I’ve been gone for hours. You’ll never see me again, dear baby sister.”
“Why don’t you just let me go? You’ve made your point. You have the power here—you successfully took me, and Sly can’t find me. We all can see that you’ve shown your dominance.”
“It has nothing to do with dominance.”
“Then what does?—”
“THAT YOU DON’T ALWAYS WIN, VINNIE.”
Lowering my gaze to my lap, I realize how deeply rooted his hatred for me is. It doesn’t matter if I live or die, or if Sly lives or dies. Either I’ve lost someone I love, or the ones I love lose me. Either way, Joseph will always see me as the woman who ruined his life. In his mind, I’ve won, regardless of the outcome. There is no winning for him.
There’s just an end.
Looking up at him, our gaze connects, and the amount of malice reflected in his eyes takes my breath away, shattering my heart in the process. He truly hates me. I can see it as clear as day on his face as he sneers at me, looking like he’d love to end me right here and now.
But that wouldn’t give him the satisfaction he’s hoping for. He wants the audience. The hurt.
He wants someone else to feel the pain he’s feeling.
Tapping his pointer finger against his watch, he smirks, acting as though this is all just fun for him, while my fight-or-flight instincts start to kick in.
My heart hammers in my chest, but I hold my chin up, staring at him with an unwavering stare as he tells me, “Tick-tock, Vinnie. If Sly doesn’t show up within the next three hours, I’ll make sure he does.”