Chapter 16 #3
Then a needle drove into my upper arm.
I screamed.
Cold burned through my muscle.
“No,” I gasped. “No—”
Two men forced an evacuation hood over my head.Plastic pressed against my mouth. Chemical air filled my lungs.
I fought until my arms stopped answering. I clawed at the hood. I tried to reach Angela. Tried to see Sal through smoke and flashing red lights.
On the other side of the fire door, he roared my name.
Not Sal’s controlled voice.
Not Daddy’s low command.
A sound pulled from somewhere brutal and ancient.
Then the corridor tilted.
The lights smeared.
And darkness took me.
*
I woke with plastic against my cheek and a bitter chemical taste coating my tongue.
For one second, I did not know where I was. Then the vehicle hit a pothole. I looked around. I was in an ambulance? Thank god. Maybe I . . .
No. My hands were tied, bound tightly. My wrists jerked against restraints.
Terror arrived whole.
Sal.
Kiryl.
Angela on the floor.
The fire door between us.
I sucked in a breath too quickly and choked on the stale antiseptic air.
My hands were secured in front of me with a black restraint loop. Not cuffs. Worse. Soft enough to look humane. Tight enough to turn my fingers numb.
The ambulance lights strobed blue-white against the ceiling.
I pulled once.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Panic climbed my throat.
Then I imagined Sal’s voice, cutting through it all. If only he were here with me. If only I could touch him.
What would he say?
Breathe, observe, choose.
I shut my eyes.
Breathe.
The engine ran heavy. Diesel. Not a city ambulance with a high clean whine. This one had an older engine. The back compartment smelled of bleach, rubber, and something metallic.
Observe.
The road beneath us was smooth at first. City paving. I counted turns by the pull of my body against the bench.
Left.
Right.
Straight for too long.
I listened.
A train horn somewhere beyond the vehicle. Low and distant. Then gulls.
Lake air slid through a bad seal in the rear door. Cold water. Diesel. Industrial rot.
Choose.
I stopped pulling at the restraints.
Not because I had surrendered. Because I needed my hands.
The road changed beneath us. Broken concrete. Slow bumps. The ambulance turned sharply, then rolled into an echoing space.
A warehouse? A hanger?
The engine cut and the rear doors opened.
Men lifted me out.
My legs buckled. The drug still lived in my blood, thick and ugly. I forced my knees straight.
A black SUV waited inside the warehouse.
One of the men shoved me into the rear seat.
Gianni sat beside me. Of course it was him.
He wore a charcoal suit. His hair was perfect. No smoke. No blood. No sign that he had ordered men to shoot guards and drag me unconscious through a building. His eyes moved over the evacuation hood still hanging around my neck.
“You a biter?” he asked.
I spat at him.
It landed on his cheek. For one perfect second, I saw surprise.
Then he wiped it away with a handkerchief.
“I missed you too, ptichka.”
“Kiryl.”
He smiled faintly.
“Straight to business.”
“Show me he’s alive.”
“You think I would kill your brother?”
“I think you kill whatever stands between you and a crown.”
His mouth tightened.
The SUV began moving. Outside, warehouse walls slid past the dark window.
“You attacked his convoy.”
“You misunderstand,” Gianni said.
“I heard him.”
“Yes. And you were supposed to.” He adjusted one cuff. “The tracker was real. The driver was useful. His daughter was recovered precisely when your people needed a reason to believe they had solved the problem.”
My stomach turned cold.
“No.”
“I wanted them looking at your brother while I took you.”
I fought the restraints again. Gianni caught my wrists in one hand.
“Don’t,” he said. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Do not touch me.”
He let go with a small, mocking gesture.
“The attack withdrew when Caruso reserves arrived,” he continued. “Pietro and Tonio are still protecting Kiryl. Your brother is safe.”
“Proof.”
Gianni held up a phone.
A traffic feed filled the screen. Grainy. High angle. Armored SUVs moved through an intersection under Caruso escort. Men leaned from windows with rifles. One vehicle in the center had been reinforced with steel plates.
Kiryl was inside it.
Alive.
I stared until my eyes burned.
Gianni watched me.
“See?” he said softly. “I am not unreasonable.”
I looked at him over the phone.
“You kidnapped me from a legal examination.”
“Perfectly reasonable.”
“You shot Sal’s guard. You hurt Angela.”
“Yes.”
“You staged an attack on my brother.”
He smiled.
“I moved the pieces I needed moved.”
The city slipped away behind us. Somewhere, Sal would be tearing Chicago apart to find me.
Somewhere, Kiryl was alive, worrying about me. I held that fact like a blade in my fist. Then I looked at Gianni and let him see exactly how much I hated him.
“You made one mistake,” I said.
His brows lifted.
“What is that, little bird?”
“You think you took me away from them.”
The SUV turned onto a darker road.
I leaned back against the seat, wrists numb, mouth bitter with drugs.
“You only made them come for you.”