Page 68 of Found By Him

All of us can tell by the tone in Carlos’s voice that we aren’t going to like what he has to say.

As I drive to my house, every worst-case scenario runs through my mind. I don’t even know what to think.

I pull into my driveway minutes later, Nate and Ian right behind me. Kyle is stalking across the street before I’m even out of the car. I nod a greeting to him as we all head inside. Carlos is there before I can shut the door.

We gather in my kitchen, and I cross my arms over my chest. I’m trying with every ounce of strength I have to not lose it completely. “Okay, Carlos. We’re all here. Tell us what you couldn’t tell me over the phone.”

Carlos takes a breath and locks his stare on mine, his lips in a grim line. “I need you to stay calm.”

All I can manage is a terse nod.

“There’s no record of Gisella being arrested.” He pauses to let what he said sink in. My nostrils flair, jaw muscles clenched. “There’s no warrant. No police were sent here to arrest her.”

36

Ella

Holy hell. You always hear people say they feel like they got hit by a truck, but I never really understood until now. My entire body screams at even the slightest movement. I assume I’m lying on the floor with how hard it is, but I can’t see anything. When I try to open my eyes, the world around me is still pitch black. It takes my cloudy brain a few moments to realize it’s because I’m blindfolded. My hands are still handcuffed behind my back, wrists raw from where the metal digs into my skin.

Panic battles with the pain throughout my body.

I can’t believe this is going to be the end. I never got to tell Jack goodbye.

My breath hitches when I think about Jack. It pisses me off that the universe would be as cruel as to give me what I always wanted and then callously rip it away. Does he know I’m gone yet? Or is get still dealing with the aftermath of theshooting? Will he call Carlos, or will he try to find me himself? I should have told him how I really feel, because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.

Perfect time to have that realization.

I think about all the other people who have come to mean so much to me in such a short amount of time.

I will never even get to see Frank win at Bingo.

I sniffle through my emotions, trying not to lose it. If I have even a fighting chance to get out of here, I need to keep my wit about me. I try to shift my body enough to sit up, gritting my teeth through the pain it causes to make even the slightest movement. “What the hell did they do to me?”

“It was probably from rolling around my trunk for a while.”

I shriek when a voice answers my question.

“Or maybe when I dragged you into my house and threw you in this room. You’re not an easy bitch to move around, so I had to do what I needed to do.”

My foggy brain tries to place the voice. I know I’ve heard it before, but all the other sensations flooding my system make it difficult to pinpoint who it is.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask roughly, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“What a stupid fucking question.” The man mocks me. “I’m not going to just let you go, if that’s what you are hoping for.”

The sound of footsteps is booming. Bracing myself for whatever he’s about to do to me, I yelp when he yanks on my arm to force me into a seated position. The only response to my pain is a sinister laugh.

The blindfold is abruptly ripped from my head, my eyes burning from the sudden intrusion of bright lights. I blink multiple times to try to focus as my eyes water. I’m not sureif the tears are from the lights, my fear, or the indescribable amount of pain I’m in.

The room starts to come into focus as I fix my gaze on the man hovering over me.

His face. I know his face.

Come on, brain, get it together.

Finally, my memory halts at the office Christmas party last year. I know exactly who this is.

Steven Melton, the son of the man who destroyed everything.

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