Page 128 of Hidden Memories

We’re alone.

We wait for no more than a minute when the cold press of a gun barrel touches my temple.

“Don’t move.”

The voice slithers through the air, low and venomous. A voice that should be buried six feet under. A voice that should never have spoken again.

My stomach turns to stone. My breath stills in my lungs.

No.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

I turn.

And the past doesn’t just catch up to me.

It stands in front of me, back from the dead.

Nic.

My knees nearly buckle as the weight of the revelation crashes over me. He’s alive.

Nic and his crony kick us hard in our backs, and Santi and I push out in front of them.

“Walk,” Nic commands.

The guard behind Santi shoves him forward, and we’re marched up the driveway. Shock, rage, and terror churn inside me. I can barely process what’s happening, but I know one thing– Nic isn’t acting alone.

The foyer is cavernous, the stone walls lined with severe-looking portraits. Despite the grand space, the air inside is damp and stifling like the claustrophobic insides of a cave.

Nic steps in front of us, his smirk infuriatingly familiar but darker now, hardened by whatever twisted life he’s been leading.

“Welcome,” he says, spreading his arms as if he’s hosting a dinner party. “I was wondering when you’d catch up.”

I immediately scan the innards of the mansion for signs of Theo. Two guns point straight at me and Santi, but suddenly, I’m fearless. All I care about is taking down this monster before me and getting to my son.

I take a step forward, my fists clenched at my sides. “You faked your death?”

His smirk widens. “Don’t sound so surprised. You always said I was good at escaping responsibility.”

“Why?” The demand erupts from deep within. “I knew you were pure evil.”

Nic’s nostrils flare, as if he doesn’t want to admit what he’s about to say. “The organization got in too deep. We needed out.”

“The Mafia? Why did you even do it, Nic?”

He steps forward, putting the gun to my forehead, hard and unrelenting. Santi flinches, but Nic’s guard stops him.

“You want to know why, Princess Castellanos?” Nic spits, his tone mocking. “Because not everyone is born with a silver spoon. Some of us need money.”

“Nobodyneeds that much money, Nic! You were stealing millions! You’re just a greedy fucking bastard! Where is my son?”

“Ourson.”

The ragged sound coming out of me is full of so much poison I barely recognize myself. “You don’t deserve to be in the same air he breathes… now where is he?”

Nic grabs me by the shirt, nearly pulling me off my feet. His smirk falters, replaced by something dangerous. “Where are my flash drives?”

---