Page 53 of KAI Tortured

“Yes. Heading to Greenwich Avenue, Central Valley?”

The driver nods. I enter and he pulls away as quickly as he came.

The drive takes an hour and all the while, I try to keep my mind free of the self-defeating thoughts that attack me from every angle. No, I won’t die. No, she won’t kill me. Yes, I’m safe. I keep the internal chatter under control and start thinking about what exactly I’ll tell Rosey. After she kidnapped me, imprisoned me, beat me, prepared me for rape – thank God that didn’t happen – after all that, what can I say to her that would get me heard? I get why Orion wants her dead. And Logan. And Kai, too.

But not me.

Am I a glutton for punishment? I probably am. But she’s my little sister. She’ll always be my little sister.

The driver rouses me from my internal monologue. “We’re here.”

I look up and yes, there it is. This is the place I said I would never go back to. And this is the place I keep going back to. By force, or otherwise.

I check the front entrance. There’s only one person standing on guard.

“Thank you. Have a good night.”

I gather all my strength and, as if I’m not walking straight to my death, I exit the car and make my way to the front door.

The guard stands up straight upon seeing me. He’s trying to figure me out. I’m wearing a face mask, so I doubt he’ll recognize me.

He gives me a toothless scowl. “Yeah?”

“I’m here to see Rosey. She called in a masseuse, and they told me to come here.”

Eyeing me carefully, he orders, “Remove your mask.”

I pull it up from my chin to my nose, the perfect way to not show my full face. “I’m sorry, I’m vulnerable without it. Poor immune system and stuff.”

He snorts dismissively. “Lemme see what’s in your bag.”

I open the bag and show him the sole two items. I don’t even have my cell with me to go back to Logan’s. I’m counting on the boys to pick me up. Dead or alive. Either, at this point. This is the last thing I’ll do on my own. But I have to. She has the gun I killed Natasha with. Why I threw it on the lawn that night, I have no idea. Well, actually, I do. I thought there was honor among thieves. Or at least sisters. I’m not that lucky, I guess. Here I am, trying to warn her to leave, while she sold me out to the authorities. Ugh. Thinking about how stupid I am is driving me crazy. It’s like I’m trying to make myself stupider on purpose; that’s why I keep giving her another chance, like saying ‘Look at me, Rosey, I’m stupid, and I can be your friend.’

“Alright. Go in.” The man opens the door for me. “Been here before?”

“Yes.”

He dismisses me, and shuts the door once I’m inside.

My heart hammers in my chest as I realize I’m standing on my own in the huge entrance. There’s not a living soul in sight. I take a step forward into the house and try to remember: if I keep to the left, and then go down the corridor, at the end should be the door I’m after, the door to Milan’s office. Which is now Rosey’s.

I start walking and soon see the office, and spot two men chatting outside it. The one with bushy eyebrows and scars on his face, I recognize from the first time I paid her a visit.

I’m dreading passing them, but I know that’s the only place Rosey will be. As I approach, I realize how very afraid I am. The adrenaline rushing through my veins is unsettling. I’m inside the Slav headquarters on my own, heading past the two guards, straight for Rosey’s office. I pray she’s in there.

“Who are you?” The one with scars on his face demands and I freeze. I mustn’t show fear. That’s all I’m thinking about.

“I’m Rosey’s masseuse. And who are you?” I respond, despite my voice trembling.

“I’m Rob.” He says with a smirk. “She should be in her office.”

“Um, okay. Rob.”

I turn around and take a few more steps before I stop outside the door to collect myself. Once I’ve taken a few breaths to calm my nerves, I raise my hand to knock. That’s when her voice scares me to death.

“Who the fuck are you?” she screeches from behind me.

I turn around and gape at her; she gapes right back at me. And she’s furious. Up close, she looks like she hasn’t slept for days. Her top is stained and threadbare. Last time I was here, she looked all pristine and in control. I can’t imagine what’s happened in between. Maybe we got to her?

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