Chapter One
Ella
The sound of barking dogs filters into my brain, and I wake with a jolt.
Everything is blurry.
I blink several times, trying to get my eyes to focus.
I’m on a bed, covered with a blanket.
It’s dark except for a dim light on the bedside table.
Nothing looks familiar.
Where the hell am I?
I scramble upright, clutching the blanket to my chest. My head immediately protests, pain exploding behind my eyes. I cradle my face in my hands and sit still, trying to stop the throbbing.
My last memories come crashing back. The black car. The old man. The cloth over my face.
The terror.
My heart leaps in my chest, beating frantically. I gasp for air as the fear roars back to life.
A wave of nausea makes me dry heave. My mouth and throat are parched, coated with what feels like sandpaper. Even swallowing is an ordeal.
Two bottles of water and a sealed pack of tablets sit on the bedside table. I reach for the water, but lifting my arm is harder than it should be.
What the heck?
Inspecting my upper arm, I notice a patch of red skin that’s sensitive to the touch. In the center is a tiny dot.
Is that a needle mark?
Oh my god. What did that guy inject me with?
Is that why I was out for so long? With it dark outside, it looks like the entire day has passed.
My mind spins out of control. My pulse races, blood rushing through my veins like stormwater.
Sweat breaks out across my skin. I try to slow my breathing, but it won’t calm.
My whole body begins to shake.
What if the drugs messed with me? What if I’m having a heart attack?
No, no, no. This isn’t happening.
My heart jolts again and a tingle spreads across my chest. I’ve read about this.
Oh god, I am having a heart attack.
The tingling spreads to my fingers and toes.
I can’t breathe.
Despite gasping for air, no oxygen seems to reach my lungs. Pearls of sweat roll down my forehead and dark spots swim across my vision.
I’m going to die. This is it.
I fall back onto the bed, clutching my chest. Tears stream down my face. Even lying down, the room spins.
Is this a reaction to whatever they injected me with?
I don’t want to die yet.
Maybe I should find help.
Still hyperventilating and trembling, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
Whoa! My head hurts.
Leaning forward, I put my head between my legs. I’ve read somewhere before that it should help with panic. And I’m definitely panicking.
I stay like this for a while and, ever so slowly, my heart rate settles and my breathing calms.
Still dazed, I sit up and grab a bottle of water, gulping it down. My body is covered in perspiration. I’m a hot mess.
Drained of all energy, I’m exhausted beyond measure. I can hardly keep my eyes open, yet I’m too wired to close them.
Leaning against the headboard, I beg my eyes to fall shut while I focus on breathing in and out.
Gradually, my ability to think returns.
Wow, I think I just had my first panic attack.
My head throbs unbearably. I stare at the packet of tablets.
Ibuprofen.
Do I trust that’s what’s actually in it?
No, I won’t risk it. I’ve had enough drugs for one day.
I grab the second bottle of water and guzzle it down with trembling hands.
Who the hell drugged me? And where am I?
With trepidation, I look down at my body… and let out a sigh of relief.
Thankfully, no one violated me. Well, other than knocking me out and drugging me. My shoes are gone, but I’m still wearing the clothes I put on to go to the airport.
Crap. Rhia was supposed to pick me up. She’ll be so worried.
Would she have raised the alarm yet? Are people looking for me? God, I hope so.
I study my surroundings for the first time. I’m in some sort of suite. It’s huge, nearly the size of my entire apartment in Dublin. At the other end, another lamp illuminates a sitting area, casting that corner in a welcoming glow.
Well, as welcoming as it can be when you’ve been kidnapped and have no idea where you are, who took you, or where your cell phone is.
Fear slams through me again, and I wrap my arms around myself.
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, I chant to myself, not wanting to escalate again.
At least I didn’t wake up in a shipping container or a dark, smelly room. That’s something to be grateful for, right?
This looks more like luxury living. So maybe I’m not a case of human trafficking… yet.
The thought is only slightly comforting.
I’m alive. That’s the main thing. I can cope with anything else… I hope.
But who kidnapped me? And why? Where are they now?
The questions loop endlessly in my head.
There has to be a way out of this. But my brain feels cloaked in cotton wool. I can’t form a rational thought.
I take a few steadying breaths and look around the room again. The curtains are only half-closed and sway gently in the breeze. There must be an open window. Could I escape through it?
Then there’s a door to my right. Does it lead to the rest of the house?
The bed itself is tucked into the back left corner of the suite. Another door sits diagonally in front of me. It’s slightly ajar and soft light shines through the crack.
Probably the bathroom.
I slide off the bed, my feet touching soft carpet. God, every single muscle in my body is sore.
My head spins, and I grab the bed to steady myself before I fall.
On weak legs, I make my way toward the bathroom.
I use the toilet and splash water on my face. My skin is so dry I need moisturizer. To my utter shock, a few of my toiletries are neatly lined up on the bathroom counter, a beautiful hibiscus flower placed in the center.
What the heck?
I open a drawer and find my toothbrush and toothpaste. In another, my makeup is beautifully arranged. I frown at my reflection in the mirror.
Why is all my stuff here?
None of this makes sense.
I wish my head would stop pounding and allow me to think.
Unsure what to do next, I leave the bathroom and walk toward the swaying curtains. A sliding glass door stands half open, revealing a balcony, but I don’t step outside.
God knows who might see me. We’re high up, I can tell that much. There’s no jumping down.
Dammit.
I walk to the only other door in the room and stare at it, debating whether I should test if it’s locked. Surely they wouldn’t just let me walk out.
But what if it isn’t locked, and this is my only chance to escape?
I’m exhausted, my limbs weak, and my head clouded. I’m ready to collapse.
I stare at the door for a moment longer.
Just get on with it.
I press my ear against the wood and listen.
Nothing.
Carefully, I twist the doorknob and pull.
Locked.
Of course it is. What did I expect? That whoever took me against my will would leave the door open so I could just walk out?
Strangely, part of me is relieved I don’t have to decide what to do right now. So I gingerly make my way back to the bed.
Bed?
No, someone could come in while I’m asleep.
The bathroom… I’ll sleep in there and lock the door.
Yes, I’ll do that.
I pull the pillows and blankets off the bed and drag them to the bathtub. It’s long and reminds me of a cocoon. Just what I need. The illusion of safety.
I place a layer of blankets at the bottom and throw in the pillows. Then I close the door, hearing the solid click.
Climbing into the bathtub, I make myself as comfortable as I can, pulling a blanket over myself. My eyes close as I struggle against the drug-induced fog.
I’m drifting off to sleep, but my mind keeps spinning.
I wonder if I’m being watched.
The creepy feeling I had in Syracuse Cathedral slithers up my spine.
Suddenly images flash before my eyes in rapid succession.
Me sitting in the pew… people studying the statues…
the man-bun guy nodding to another a few feet away before disappearing into the shadows…
that man… Tiero… the café… cannelloni… that man again…
the man on the phone… watching… always watching…
the car racing toward Tiero… Tiero… hazel-brown eyes… love… my heart stopping…
I love him.
Tiero, where are you? I need you. Please help me.
PLEASE.
Then darkness and quiet as I drift into a restless sleep.