Page 97 of City of Wind and Lies

My skin prickles, hot tears welling at the back of my eyes as they sweep around the deserted warehouse. The eerie calm of a desolate night meets my ears as I strain for any clue as to where they've brought me. The severity of my situation pulses through my veins as the acidic taste of bile rises in my throat and fills my mouth. Adhesive still seals my lips shut and I start to retch, body coiling in on itself on the dirty floor as I have no choice but to swallow the vomit back down. The skin around my wrists and ankles burns as I struggle against my restraints. The fleeting hope of escaping evaporates as the first tear slips from the corner of my eye.

I'm going to die.

My chest tightens at the thought. No one knows where I am or who has me. If I'd only stayed in the goddamn house, at least my body would be found amongst the rubble when the fire crews showed up. But of course, my impetuous nature flared to life, and instead of stopping when Corrine or Sal called my name, I kept going. Fuck, Bowie's parents. I only saw the tips of the flames as they danced above the stone walls, but I hope for his sake he didn't lose us all tonight.

Maybe it's his penance, to lose his parents in a horrific manner. Like the world is trying to right a wrong and restore balance. It's a sick sense of twisted fate that I've fallen in love with the person responsible for the emptiness I've felt all these years.

Wren Fracassi.

The name is stale as I repeat it in my mind. Daughter of Frankie Fracassi, a disgraced mafia leader, killed by those he betrayed and a nameless mother, sentenced to an early grave for being married to him. I'd imagined who they were countless times over the years, and while I should feel some sort of closure for finally knowing that they didn't just abandon me, I don't.

Emotions wage a war inside me. I should be livid at Bowie and Sal for robbing me of the family I've desperately been chasing to find some semblance of. Bowie told me about Frankie and what he did; how he jeopardized the lives of dozens of families all to save himself. I wonder if this is why, after the initial shock, I was able to accept Bowie's lifestyle. Like somehow, deep in the recess of my mind, embedded in my DNA, the mafia blood in my own veins recognized the life that I was born to be a part of. Nicky and Isa; I was to be like them. Maybe we even would have been friends. Hell, in some alternate world, Bowie and I still could've wound up together.

I always thought it'd make a difference, knowing where I came from. But it doesn't. Instead of mourning the family I've long come to terms with not having, I'm replaying Sal's words. The guilt that clung to them as he told Corinne, and the way Bowie's tone softened as he promised to come back to me and figure it all out by my side. They didn't know. It wasn't a revenge plot. It was just some fucked up series of coincidences that made our paths collide.

My stomach flutters, probably with nerves- it's too early for the baby to be moving around. But the motion halts my panic, the edges of my bound hands rub against the fabric of my shirt in an attempt to comfort myself, and something inside me snaps.

I can't give up. I have to fight this. This baby deserves more; I deserve more. With that brief moment of clarity, I choose my future over the past.

Drawing my hands to my mouth, I pick at the edges of the tape, wincing as I manage to work some of the adhesive away from my flesh. Not knowing who's listening, I gnaw on the inside of my cheek to try to keep from screaming. Fuck that hurts, this is why I don’t get my face waxed. The foul and sticky residue taints my tongue as it darts out, licking against the tape, trying to dull its grip. With my wrists pressed to the free corner of my lips, I try to pierce the zip tie with my canine tooth, slobbering and gnawing at the plastic, hoping to free my hands.

The groan of metal hinges stops my attempts at freedom, my eyes pinging to where an exterior door pushes open and two men walk in. My throat tightens with a swallow, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest and blood whooshing in my ears as the moonlight shines across their features. I recognize the first man from dinner with Bowie. Gabriel Belluci; the disgusting man who I've come to know holds no morals or regard for others, especially women. I can't help the flinch of fresh terror that fissures through me when the door slams shut behind Trey.

"Hello, Wren," Belluci greets as he waves a hand in the air. "Sorry if these accommodations aren't quite up to your standards. You see, my nicer places have either been burnt down or raided and compromised."

Belluci strides across the warehouse toward me with sickening arrogance, while Trey hovers near the door looking less than proud of himself. Belluci's lips curl around his teeth as he crouches down in front of me. "Such a pretty thing, I'll bet you’ll bring in enough to cover the loss of at least two of the girls."

His brows slant together as he eyes the flap of tape partially hanging from my mouth, and I let out a shrill cry when he yanks it the rest of the way off. He drags his knuckles down my wet cheek and I recoil at his touch. "Oh, I like it when they scream and cry." Belluci turns around to face Trey. "Do you think she's this loud when she's getting fucked?"

Trey doesn't answer. He just stands there, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes cast to the floor. Coward.

"I guess it's only fair if I test drive the merchandise," Belluci remarks as he stands, fingers going towards the button of his pants as he looks down at me with sinister intent. "Want to make sure we advertise you as best as we can."

My pulse ratchets higher, the implication in his words sending a ripple of dread right through me.

"Can't we just demand a ransom or some shit?" Trey tries to reason, breaking his silence.

"A ransom?" Belluci pivots around on his heels, marching towards him. "Do you have any idea what her boyfriend cost me? I had six girls at that safe house. Six! And two of them were virgins!"

"Selling her won't make up the money, though. Can't you get more from him directly?" Trey implores.

Belluci pulls a gun from his waistband, tapping the barrel to his own forehead in an exaggerated motion. "Oh, why didn't I think of that, hmm. Let me see. Maybe it's because then Bowie still gets what he wants! I don't want him to have anything when this is over!"

"But-"

BANG!

I scream, body jolting as he fires a shot straight in the air.

"Shut up!" Belluci shouts, chest heaving in rage as he turns back toward me.

His footsteps thunder against the concrete as he grows closer. I roll to my elbows and try to crawl away, but his hand clamps down on my leg before I get very far. "No!" I shriek as he starts to drag me across the floor. Adrenaline floods my system and I try to jerk away from his grip, but the cold metal of the gun cracks across my temple, clouding my vision with black spots.

I can feel the warm sensation of blood trickling down the side of my face as he props me against a stack of pallets. With his free hand, he pops the button of his slacks, pulling his pathetic excuse of a cock out and stroking it as he steps in front of me. "Let's start with that mouth of yours."

The musty and sweaty smell of his skin assaults my nostrils as he brings his meager dick closer to me and my stomach lurches, bile rushing up my throat and out my mouth, splattering the front of his pants.

"Stupid bitch," he growls, the metalic taste of blood filling my mouth as he cracks his palm against my cheek so hard I swear my teeth rattle.

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