Chapter 5 Allie
ALLIE
Ican barely move when the plane lands and I’m shepherded out into the bright afternoon sunlight.
The air smells like sand and beach. There are palm trees and lots of green out past the runway.
A small plane hangar is nearby alongside a tall observation tower.
Several black cars are waiting with conspicuously armed men lurking all around them.
Mass strides toward them. My husband—no, no, not my husband, I won’t think of him like that; he’s my kidnapper and nothing more. He doesn’t seem afraid. If anything, he holds himself a little higher and walks with more precision and power.
And he was already a specimen before.
The man’s beautiful. I can’t pretend otherwise. Long lashes and full lips. A mouth that can do things to me. And that palm held tight to keep me from speaking, and the promise of what he’d do if I didn’t obey…
The sick part is I liked it. The thought of him doing that to me. Because he’s right. I haven’t been with anyone else.
He was a mistake to begin with. And then I was pregnant, and Rosie came, and it just never made sense. I figured I’d be celibate for the rest of my life and hated the thought, but I figured that’s the price I had to pay for one perfect night.
Most people never experience half of what I felt with him.
But now he’s back. The monster who ruined me. The beast I willingly fed myself to.
I’m so completely fucked it’s absurd.
I feel like a freak as I follow. I’m in flats now, but still wearing my spoiled wedding dress. Blood stains the silk and the lace. At least I got most of it off my face, and he was right; the soda did help.
Rosie’s awake. I fed her some yogurt and a banana. She’s squirmy and fascinated by everything around us, which is good. I don’t know how I’d react if she were in a bad mood.
The tall, beautiful woman named Lucy walks beside me. She’s staring down at her phone and typing away. I glance over, trying to read it, but she’s writing in a language I don’t know.
“I can guess what you’re thinking right now.
” She glances over sideways, and that’s the only way I know she’s talking to me.
“You’re wondering how you’re going to get away from here.
You’re thinking you’re going to see a lot of people and maybe someone who works for Mass will help you. Is that about right?”
“I’m being trafficked right now,” I say stubbornly.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Would you call it something else?”
“I’d say you just went through a shotgun wedding and a very minor kidnapping. I’ve seen worse.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“But here’s my point.” She lowers her phone.
I’m struck by the intensity of her gaze.
It’s like a flickering candle to the noon sun that is Mass’s stare, but she’s got some of his quality.
“Nobody will help you. Everyone here loves Mass. Each of them owes him something, and you will never be worth it. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
“This is sick. You know that, right?”
“Sick is relative. Mass won’t hurt you. He’ll treat your daughter well. She’s his blood, after all.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“What you want is irrelevant, Mrs. Cardone.” Lucy looks back down at her phone, and I get the sense that our conversation is over.
Mrs. Cardone. The name rings through my head. Nobody’s called me that yet, but it’s who I am now, isn’t it? I don’t even know what that means, if I’m honest.
But I’m sure about one thing.
If I want to survive, I have to get off this island.
The armed men salute Mass sharply. He nods back and disappears into a vehicle. I’m directed by one of the guards to my own car, a comfortable SUV with leather seats and a four-point baby harness. I get Rosie settled, adjust the straps, and clip her in.
The driver glances in the rearview mirror. “Welcome to paradise, Mrs. Cardone.” He drives off, staying close to the procession of vehicles.
At least Rosie’s good in cars. She calms and stares out the window at the passing foliage. It’s like we’re in an untamed tropical wilderness, the sort of place most people would call paradise.
But this is hell for me.
I have time to reflect as we wind our way down a narrow paved road.
Back when I first met him, he said his name was Massimo, but he didn’t give me anything else.
It’s probably my fault for not asking. I knew he was connected and could tell that he was extremely rich and successful, but I just assumed he was some kind of upper-level crime lord from a city I didn’t know well.
I was off by several orders of magnitude.
If this man really is Mass Cardone, and I doubt he’d make that up, then he’s one of the five most powerful men in the world.
There’s a system beneath the interconnected economy. Back when ships began crossing the oceans and planes began dotting the skies, people quickly realized life was better when there were rules and regulations everyone agreed to. That’s when the original Dragons stepped into the void.
They amassed enormous sums of money in those early days and flexed their muscles with gleeful abandon.
Papa told me about them when I was little like they were fairy stories.
The first five Dragons were ruthless robber barons who kept world trade going through violence, extortion, bribery, and blackmail.
They became so influential that all the smaller criminal operations began hailing them as kings.
Now the Dragons are different men entirely from who they used to be. The Dragon mantle has never passed from father to son. Only the strong could take it. Only the strong could hold it for long.
The man who Mass went up against and eventually prevailed over had been a Dragon for twenty years.
I remember all the talk back when the new Dragon came into power.
There was a lot of fear and excitement. Everyone wanted to tell stories and share theories.
Papa would say the new Dragon was a monster, a bloodthirsty beast, a mindless psychopath.
He’d say the new Dragon cared only about brutality and profit, nothing more.
He sneered, shook his head, and acted like he was above it.
I never took any of it seriously.
Dragons? Crime lords? International cartels of ultra-powerful murderers?
Sounded stupid.
But now that I’m married to one, it doesn’t seem so farfetched and absurd anymore.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Cardone? You might want to pay attention to this. Most people enjoy their first visit to the Fortress.”
I open my mouth to tell him that there’s no way in hell I’ll ever enjoy any part of this—
But the words fade away as the structure comes into view.
That’s the only way I can fit it into my head. The structure. If I try to think of it as a house, my mind starts to break.
It’s built on a hill. We’re low down, and it rises above us, glittering and bright in the intense light.
Its walls are polished steel and glass. Dozens of windows stare out at the world.
I count six stories in total and more rooms than I can possibly imagine.
It’s ringed by walls topped with curled barbed wire.
Guard towers are spaced evenly around the perimeter.
The peak is capped with gold so bright it hurts my eyes.
There are crenellations and carvings, decorative details and functional cameras.
It’s like a jail mixed with a prince’s palace.
I can’t begin to make sense of how a place like that could’ve ever appeared in an unspoiled jungle like this.
The driver’s smiling at me in the rearview. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Terrible. Horrible.”
He nods eagerly. “All of the above. You should see the inside. Well, I suppose you will shortly.”
“How big is it?”
“Enormous.” He shrugs like that’s all he can possibly say.
“What about the Resort?” I remember Mass mentioned something about a resort on the plane.
“That’s on the other side of the island. But you’re not allowed over there.”
“What do you mean?”
“The island is split. Over here is Mr. Cardone’s private home inside the Fortress. Over there is the Resort. It’s like a five-star hotel for extremely wealthy and powerful clients.”
Hope blossoms in my chest. If there’s some kind of vacation place on this island, that means there are other ways of getting on and off. Which means boats, planes, friendly people, and escape.
There’s a way out after all.
All I’ll have to do is scale the massive walls surrounding the Fortress, squeeze through the barbed wire, and do it all with my daughter tucked under my arm.
The driver takes us through a well-protected gate. The cars park in front of a big entrance like something I’ve only seen at banks and downtown office buildings. Mass went inside already, and I’m whisked away by a small legion of house staff wearing black and acting friendly.
But I remember Lucy’s warning.
They’re all loyal to him. Otherwise, why stay in a place like this?
I carry Rosie as we enter the Fortress. The scale of the place takes my breath away.
It’s like a massive hotel with people walking all over the place.
I remember visiting Vegas with my family and feeling dwarfed by the enormity of the casinos, but this is even worse.
I’m hurried along into an elevator with only a single button.
“This is Mr. Cardone’s private quarters,” an older woman explains.
The doors close and we’re whisked upwards to the top floor.
“He likes the view,” she says with a wink as we step out into a lavish apartment.
I’m completely speechless. I’ve been living in the Russo mansion for so long, and I’ve gotten used to fading opulence. My home was filled with fraying rugs and peeling wallpaper.
But this place is pristine. Marble floors buffed to a shine. Impeccable modern furniture. Everything is white, black, and gray. There’s not a splash of color anywhere.
I try to imagine Rosie living here. We’re going to need rugs.
“My name’s Satya, and I’ll take care of anything you want.
I’ll be your primary contact. You want something?
Don’t hesitate to ask. I’m told to provide you with whatever you need.
” She eyes me up and down, frowning. “I suppose we’d better start with a bath and some fresh clothes.
How about you give me that little one while you freshen up? ”
“Absolutely not.” I pull away, my heart racing suddenly at the thought of giving my daughter to a woman who works for that monster.
She doesn’t seem bothered by my reaction. She only smiles and holds up her hands. “Fair enough, should’ve thought more. Where you go, the baby girl goes too. And such a little cutie. Beautiful little Rosie.”
“How do you know her name?”
“I was briefed on you, Mrs. Cardone. Now, come right this way. I’ll show you the place and let you get settled…” She talks as she goes, and I follow numbly.
She was briefed, which means all these people knew I was coming.
They knew what Mass was going to do, and she’s acting like it’s not a big deal.
I want to scream. How is this happening?
How am I here, in the most beautiful apartment I’ve ever seen, with what is probably a top-ten-in-the-world view of the ocean and pristine white sand beaches, while also being a victim of a horrific kidnapping and murder?
It makes no sense. None of this makes sense.
“And here’s the bedroom.” She pushes open a set of double doors.
Of course. The sheets are black. The headboard is cushioned in black velvet. The furniture is all dark wood. She starts showing me around, but I refuse to step inside.
This is his domain. “I want my own space. I want my own room.”
Satya hesitates. She frowns and looks slightly uncomfortable. “That’s not possible, I’m afraid.”
“What about anything I want?”
“There are some restrictions. No phone, no internet, no separate space. While you’re here—”
“While I’m a prisoner?”
“You’re fully and completely here.” She seems almost apologetic but ignores the whole prisoner thing. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cardone.”
“This place is massive. There has to be something… anything else…”
“Not for you, I’m afraid. Come, take a look at this bathroom. It’s gorgeous. You’ll love it, and the closet? Well, I went to the liberty of stocking some things for you already based on your measurements. I hope you don’t mind…”
It’s all too much. I feel sick and dizzy. Rosie happily crawls around on the bed, bouncing and flailing. She likes the soft blanket and sheets. Satya keeps talking about how lovely this place is, how comfortable I’ll be, but the truth lurks under everything.
Those high walls? That barbed wire?
It’s for me.
To keep me inside.
“Now, I can tell you’ve been through a lot, so I’ll let you get acclimated. In the meantime, before I go, do you want anything? There’s food in the kitchen, but if the little one has preferences, I can bring more right away.”
She stands in front of me, beaming and personable, and I hate her. I hate her so much, but it isn’t really her, it’s this place.
It’s Mass.
“Baby-proofing,” I blurt out.
She blinks. “Sorry?”
“This apartment. It’s a deathtrap. Tons of slippery floors and hard edges. I need babyproofing.”
“Right. Of course.” She nods to herself. “I’ll speak with Mr. Cardone and get it resolved immediately. Anything else?”
“A playpen. Something portable I can stick her in while I shower.”
“We’d be happy to keep an eye—”
“Don’t ask again.” I stare at her, barely keeping my rage in check. But I force myself to stay calm. “Playpen, please.” It’s not ideal, but I’m desperate to keep Rosie where I can see her.
“Right away.” Satya turns and strides off, leaving me alone in Mass’s bedroom.
When I was younger, I used to read stories about near-death experiences. There are surprisingly consistent reports of bright lights, smiling ancestors, and a paradise waiting right across the porous borders of life and afterlife.
Now I know that’s all bullshit.
Because I’m definitely dead. Nothing else could explain what’s happening to me. I died during my wedding, and now I’ve been dragged into hell.
The only thing keeping me going is Rosie.
I have to keep it together for her.
I don’t know what Mass has planned for us. He can talk about making us comfortable and giving my daughter a good life all he wants, but it’s only noise.
I’m focused on survival and getting my daughter out of here.
Everything else is a distraction, and I won’t let it keep me from getting my little girl home.