I wake up to the sound of Jax squealing into the monitor. My hands fly to my eyes to rub the tiredness away. They’re so sore. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve cried myself to sleep. Divorce and death will do that to even the strongest women. So I’m not ashamed of that.

But I am filled with shame.

I roll over onto my back and stretch my sore body. My pussy hurts from last night. Evidence of what happened. I let it happen. I wanted it to happen. My throat closes, and my chest feels hollow. I can’t cry over this. I don’t even want to believe it happened. I wish I could just forget him.

What’s even worse though is how sad I was when I heard him leave last night. It fucking hurt listening to him sneaking out and hearing the door close. I held Jax longer than I needed to. Long after he’d fallen asleep in my arms, I just couldn’t let him go.

As if on cue, he screams, “Mommy!” and my room fills with the sound of his little voice. The hint of a smile graces my lips, and I climb out of bed. Time to get ready. I way overslept. But it’s Tuesday, so at least there's no weekend rush. I can get him ready and off to preschool before heading in to the restaurant. Sarah will pick him up, and I’ll make spaghetti. Jax’s favorite. I shake my hands of this numbing anxiety racing through my body.

It’s over. I ended it. My heart pains as it twists into an unforgiving knot in my chest. It shouldn’t hurt this much to do the right thing.

Why does it hurt so much? I’m so tired of being in pain.

* * *

I hate the start of the week. There’s always so much shit that needs to be done. I need to make sure everything is correct with inventory first. I’ve got to order everything by two to make sure I'll have it all by lunchtime on Friday. I breathe in deep. I have my checklist on the laptop. I’m supposed to interview managers and another assistant manager today. But I don’t have the time.

I know I should make the time because it would really lighten my load to have the extra help, but there’s just so much to do. And I really try so damn hard to be home every day by five, six at the latest, so I can be there for Jax. Of course, I almost always have to go back to work using my laptop as soon as he’s asleep. But as long as I’m there for him when he’s done with preschool and at soccer practice, that’s what matters.

I can’t miss this time with him. They don't stay kids forever.

I park my car in my spot. The same spot I've parked in every fucking day for the past four years, and a heavy sigh leaves me. I really wish I could take a break. I wish I didn’t have to run myself ragged every damn day. I could sell out. I could take the money and try to invest it so it would last for us. But fucking Rick got us into so much debt digging his way out of financial ruin. And then I was saddled with all the lawyer’s fees from our divorce. And then of course when he died I had to pay his lawyers that tried to take Jax away from me. That bill fucking hurt like hell to pay. I take the key from the ignition. I can’t stop now. Just one day at a time will get me through. And at least I still have my little man. I’ll be strong for him.

Grabbing my laptop bag and my purse, I swing both over my shoulder and get out of the car. I click the button for the alarm and turn toward the restaurant.

A scream tears through my throat as a large hand concealed in a black leather glove covers my mouthb and a large body wraps around my frame. No! I scream and flail my arms. No! This can’t be happening. For a moment, I think it may be Dom. But this isn’t him. I know it’s not him. Tears sting my eyes as my throat burns with a shrill scream. I stumble forward as the man pushes his chest into me and crushes his heavy weight against my body, pinning me to the rough brick. My head bashes against it, and it scrapes my cheek.

The stinging cuts hardly register as he twists my arm. The pain shoots up my shoulder. The black sleeve of the man’s sweater slips up his arm and reveals a dark, detailed tattoo of a green dragon wrapped around a red shield. Another man comes out in front of me with a rag. I struggle in the man’s hold, trying like hell to get away.

But it’s no use.

The rag covers my face, and I try not to breathe.

I hold my breath for as long as I can, but I can’t keep it up much longer. I inhale the chloroform into my lungs.

The last thing that goes through my mind as the darkness takes over is Dom. I wish he were here to save me.

* * *

My head feels so heavy. I'm so groggy. My vision swirls, and my chin touches my chest. I groan and lean my head back. “Agh!” That was a mistake. My temples pulse with pain. I try to move my aching shoulders, and then I remember. I struggle against the abrasive rope digging into my arms, wrists, thighs and ankles.

A scream tears through me. My eyes open wide, but all I see is black. I’m tied down to a chair and blindfolded. My heart races, and my breathing comes up short. No. I shake my head frantically. This can’t be happening. “No!”

Smack! A hand lands hard across my face and whips my head to the side. The sound echoes through the room. I cry out in pain. My shoulders burn from the harsh movement. How long have I been here? Jax. Tears stream down my face. I bite my tongue. I don’t know if they have him, whoever they are. I don’t know if they even know he exists. I keep my mouth shut. Who the fuck took me? What do they want?

Dom. The air stills in my lungs. Did he do this? My body shudders in agony, and my chest aches with betrayal. I shake my head. He wouldn’t do this. But how the fuck would I know? I don’t know him. I should’ve never talked to him like that. My shoulders try to turn inward; I try to close myself in, but I can’t. I’m stuck like this.

“Is she finally awake?” My head lifts and turns toward a distant voice on my right. I don’t recognize the thick Italian accent.

“Yeah, boss.” A very deep voice sounds like it's right in front of me, and I instinctively try to get away. My feet scrape against the floor. Bare feet. It’s to no avail. Two large, cold hands settle on my shoulders and squeeze. It fucking hurts.

A deep, menacing chuckle is followed by the stench of foul breath and cigarette smoke. “You’re not going anywhere… doll.” My stomach drops, and my chest hollows. Dom.

“That’s right. We know all about your boyfriend.” The large hands try to pull me forward, which only causes the searing pain to shoot up my shoulders and make me wince.

The other voice that sounded so distant before rings out very clear and very close, “Just answer our questions and we’ll let you go.” A hand reaches out and cups my face. I flinch from the sudden touch, and I’m rewarded with another hard slap. I scream out again, against my will.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I barely get the words out. They have the wrong person. I don’t know him. I only know where his office is, and his first name. Shame floods me again. I feel like a fucking whore. A stupid slut about to get murdered because some asshole made me hot and I gave into temptation. This is what happens when you’re bad. This is where you end up.

I try to keel over as a solid fist lands hard in my gut. The need to vomit floods my system, and pain radiates from my stomach to my back. Holy fuck that hurt.

“Don’t fucking lie to us!” The other man, Distant Man yells at me. Tears fall freely as I gasp for air.

“Be a good doll, we need to know where Dom keeps the files for his daddy.”

My head shakes vigorously. “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.” My heart hammers in my chest, beating furiously as if trying to escape. I wait in the silence for something, for anything.

A hard punch lands on my jaw. My bones crunch, and I swear something cracks. I sob uncontrollably from the pain.

“You do know. There’s no reason to keep it from us. Just be a good doll. We saw you bring him the money. When he took it, where did he put it and where did he write down the drop? Where does he keep that pad?”

A loud ringing noise sounds in my head. White noise. It’s so loud it nearly drowns out their words. I don’t fucking know. I swear to God I don’t know. I think back to what happened. I try to remember. There was no pad. I think he just tossed the money on the table. I don’t remember. I open my mouth to plead with them, but it burns with pain. I shake my head and plead with them, “I don’t know. Please. Please let me go.”

I whimper through the pain and prepare for another blow. And it comes almost immediately, landing hard in my gut again. I try to crumple over from the agonizing pain, but I can’t. Blood spills from my mouth as I cough it up.

They’re going to kill me. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to save myself.

Tears burn my eyes as my head starts to sway. Dom. Dom, please save me.

My head hangs low as my breathing comes in ragged pulls. He’s not going to save me. Knights in shining armor don’t exist. And even if they did, he wouldn’t be one of them.