My wrists burn. They’ve tied me so tight I can’t even twist them side to side in some pathetic attempt at getting away. Even if I did get out, I’ve got nowhere to go; I don’t even know where I am. Some strange house, locked in a damned basement, with literally no idea how to get out. I have no idea what they’re going to do with me, but one thing is clear—it doesn’t matter how much I tell them I’m not Yolanda, they don’t believe me.

Which means I’m screwed, yet again, by my selfish sister.

It’s morning now; I can tell by the light coming through a window that’s far too high for me to reach. Even if I wasn’t tied down, I wouldn’t be able to get close to getting out of it. But, the good thing is, morning means Chantelle will realize I’m not there, hopefully become alarmed, and call Mason. As much as I don’t want to see him, that club might be the only people who can get me out of this.

Because I don’t know what they’re going to do with me.

I’ve seen these kinds of stories. You don’t get away with taking money from people like this, so they very likely might hurt me to make an example of what exactly it is they’ll do if they’re not paid. What better way to prove a point and get a message across, not only to Enzo but to everyone else out there who dares to cross them, then to kill his pregnant girlfriend.

Only I’m not his pregnant girlfriend.

I’m his ex-girlfriend, who had no idea the kind of man she spent so many years with.

But, they don’t know that. Why would they? They don’t care. They know Enzo owes them money, he obviously didn’t come through with it when promised, and now they’re pissed off.

I’m trying not to be afraid, but I’d like to think I’m stronger than to let fear bring me down and show weakness, but the truth of the matter is, deep down inside, I’m so scared. I’m so damned scared of what’s going to happen next. I have no idea, and that scares me more, because any second everything could change. What if nobody finds me in time? They might have absolutely no reason to keep me alive. None at all.

I twist again, but my hands are so tightly bound and so are my feet. I’m not getting out of here anytime soon.

The door opens, and my head whips up to see the blond man from the night before coming down the stairs, followed by the same two men he was with. So far, they haven’t hurt me, but I know I’m naïve in thinking that won’t change. They’re going to hurt me, probably in brutal ways, and there is going to be sweet fuck-all I can do about it.

I hold the eyes of the blond man, even when he stops in front of me and looks down, like I’m pathetic, like he could just snap me like a twig and there’d be nothing I could do about it. He’s probably right, only I’m not pathetic. I will not give in and go down with tears in my eyes. Not me. Not Saskia.

Never.

“You’ll get one chance to tell the truth before we make you tell the truth.”

I don’t say anything. I let him continue, because he’s going to anyway.

“Now, you promised us cash, a fuck load of it. Delivered yesterday. You didn’t come through, and you honestly thought we wouldn’t find you and track you down? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid girl.”

He’s right, that would be stupid.

But Yolanda would have had the cash, if I didn’t take the jewelry and give it back to Mason.

“Where is the cash?”

I glance at him. “I’m not Yolanda, so I couldn’t tell you. You’d need to ask her.”

The man moves quickly, grabbing me around the throat and raising me off the floor. Everything starts blurring, and for a moment, I can’t think, I can’t feel, I can’t breathe, all I can do is squirm what little of my body I have use of and try and gasp for breaths as he holds me there like I’m a doll he could crush in an instant. My vision starts blurring, and little by little, my body goes strangely numb as it is starved of oxygen.

Just when I think I’m about to pass out, he drops me with a thud to the floor. I gasp over and over, and my lungs burn, my throat is like fire, and my head spins. I struggle to keep myself from going down, even though I’m breathing again. I have to blink and pray that I don’t pass out, because god knows what they’d do to me if I passed out right now.

“I won’t ask you again. Where the fuck is my money?”

“I don’t have it,” I wheeze. “It was jewelry, but it got stolen.”

A hard kick to my ribs sends me flying backward with a scream. Pain, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, radiates through my body. The breathing that I was only just getting back becomes short and painful again as my ribs feel like they’re constricting everything. I think he just broke some. The pain ripping through my body is out of this world. My screams are choked and weak.

They’re going to kill me.

“I know where it is,” I try, because maybe, just maybe, they’ll be stupid enough to let me go to give me another chance, or they’ll take me to the jewelry which will be right to a biker club.

“How fuckin’ stupid do you think we are?” he hisses.

“I’m serious, I know who took it. I stole it, and I know who has it. I can get it back again and you’ll have your money.”

They don’t believe I’m not Yolanda, so I’ll play along. For now.

“We don’t give second fuckin’ chances, you had the chance to get the money, and you didn’t deliver.”

“Please,” I croak. “I can get your money and more. Plenty more.”

The man studies me, and I hold his eyes, even though I feel like I’m going to pass out. I don’t back down; I stare at him, and pray, just pray he considers believing me, because if he doesn’t, I’m dead here and now.

Nobody will find me.

It’ll be too late.

“How much more?” he growls.

“Over a hundred thousand.”

That isn’t a lie. Mason’s jewelry would be worth that, if it was all sold together.

The man stares at me then turns to his other men. “I’ll sit on it. I’m not sure I believe her yet, and even if I do, I still haven’t decided if I won’t just kill her to show people there is no fucking with me.”

A dark-haired man nods. “Word is already out, boss, that you got stood up. It’s a ballsy move. People find out you let her live, they’re goin’ to start testing the waters.”

“Valid point. Let’s go discuss.”

God.

No.

Don’t discuss. Let me go.

Please.

The blond man turns around and then lashes out again with his booted foot, hitting me in the same spot and sending me tumbling backward with another agonized scream.

By the time I manage to get myself up off the floor and stop screaming and crying, they’re gone.

And I’m alone.

And scared.

I’m so scared.

~*~*~*~