“What fun would that be?” He shrugged. “Chuck and Mark both want you alive, but they would never know if we played with you a little first. Gio!”
The hulk of the man holding me slammed me hard into another container. My head hit first. Stars speckled my vision, my glasses flew from my face, and I slumped to floor. My body seemed to be struggling to coordinate. I clawed at the metal behind me to get myself back on my feet, as a blurred image of Andrea approached me.
He wrapped his hand around my neck and hoisted me up the rest of the way. His body supported my weak knees as he pressed up against me. He whispered gently in my ear. “You’re even cuter when you’re scared.”
Andrea slipped his tongue into my ear. I clawed hopelessly at his arm as he continued down my neck. His grip tightened on my throat as he nudged his way to my collar bone. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t scream, and I could barely see. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would somehow give me the clarity.
And in that moment of heightened senses, the sound of that bullet firing from a 9mm barrel had never been louder.
Gio fell first. Another bang, not even a second later, and Andrea fell, too.
I let myself fall to my knees again. I felt for my glasses. I looked through broken lenses at Lillian Maria Ainsworth-Cisneros holding a handgun, the barrel still smoking from two quick shots.