Page 14 of Stolen By the Enemy

The last thing I want to do right now is start crying. I might be terrified for my life, but I refuse to let Marco see me break down.

I end my message to him with a very loud “fuck you” and a brilliant display of my middle finger.

That was either a fantastic show of courage that will have him second-guessing his plans for me, or it was the quickest way to piss him off, and I’ve basically signed my own death certificate.

Only time will tell. I sigh deeply and close my eyes for a second to calm my racing heart.

Now that I’ve exhausted myself, I feel weak.

Dinner would probably be a good idea. The kitchen is fully stocked. But I can’t bring myself to cook or eat.

My stomach feels too tight to fit any food into it.

I head to the bedroom instead, giving the camera my middle finger as I enter the room, and flop down on the bed.

Finally, I let the tears come, but stay as quiet as I can. The last thing I want is for Marco to hear me crying.

I need him to believe that I care very little about what is happening, so that I don’t give him any more power than he already thinks he has.

I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this house alive, but I do know that I have caused this chaos for my family and it’s not fair for them.

I hope they can forgive me.

I hope that this isn’t the end of it all for me, because I had much bigger plans than to live my last days in a Mexican prison house.

I lay on the bed and stare out of the big glass door that looks over the ocean.

The sun is currently setting over the water, and it’s beautiful, despite me having no real choice about whether I want to watch it or not.

This room is gorgeous, and in any other circumstance, coming here would have been a dream come true.

I could set up my sketchpad on the porch and draw those seagulls sitting on the post near the beach. I haven’t sketched in so long, but this place demands to be admired and remembered—which is weird because I’m only here as a captive.

But if things were different, if Marco had brought me here because we’d truly connected. I’d drink coffee as the sun came up, and watch the sky go from dark to light, bringing my favorite time of the day with it, especially at the seaside.

But there’s no romantic feelings inside of me right now.

There’s only despair and fear.

There is a pit of worry in my stomach as well. I know that this situation is dangerous, and I worry about my brothers.

Luca is about to become a dad, and this kind of risk and stress is the last thing he needs.

I close my eyes and think back to being at home.

I think about the place I grew up in and felt the safest. I remember being in Nonna’s rose garden, joking with Luca and Enzo.

Even though we’ve had drama and sadness between us in the last few months, there is nowhere on earth I would rather be right now, than in my childhood home, laughing with my family in the kitchen.

I’m not usually a spiritual person, but tonight, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach my brothers with my mind.

I urge them to find me and help get me back home.

Chapter Five

Marco

“Grazia?” I call out to her, opening the door, but only wide enough for my own body to slip through.

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