Page 37 of Luka

My heart skips as tears burst to my eyes.

“What the fuck,” he murmurs, blinking again. He takes the last step toward me and slowly pulls the tape off my mouth.

I gasp as I whip my head to the side against the sting of the tape but only give myself a moment’s hesitation before I speak.

“Please,” I say, tears blurring my vision as I peer up at the stranger. “I swear I won’t go to the police about your friend. Please, let me go.”

The man shakes his head, not in response, more like he’s wrapping his head around things. I hold my breath while I wait for him to answer.

“What the hell is my brother doing with you?” he asks.

My heart sinks. Now it’s my turn to act confused.

Brother?

“H-he…” I start but pause to think of how to finish.

His brother.Brother.

This man will never help me.

I close my eyes as grief sweeps through me, knocking against my windpipe and stealing my breath. When I finally catch it, I breathe in the booze reeking from this man.

I search my memory for the slightest hint of compassion in his expression upon seeing me, but it isn’t there. I’m a fool for thinking it could be. For thinking Tall would ever keep company with a person who was capable of compassion.

I wonder if this man will want to share me too.

Lowering my head, I give up on what I was about to say and cry instead.

“Are you a foreigner?” the man asks, sounding angry.Angry. Like me coming into this country is somehow a worse crime than his brother kidnapping me.

Only a second passes before he’s on the bed, grabbing hold of my hair and yanking my head back, making me gasp. “Answer me!”

Yes, seems like the wrong answer, but I’m so startled it comes out anyway.

“Did you come here with a boyfriend?” he asks, his words slurred and urgent. “Did you—Did…” He blinks while his lips tremble with unspoken words I don’t understand.

Did I come here with a boyfriend?

To the United States?

Is he talking about Mario?

Does he know who I am?!

My eyes burst wide.

“Yes,” I say, my chest puffing. “Yes, I came with my boyfriend. His name is Mario. Is he looking for me? Tell him where I am. Please.Please. He—he’ll give your brother money, whatever he wants, just?—”

The man’s hand wraps around my throat as his eyes turn manic. My air supply is cut off as he squeezes, and I struggle as panic grips me as tightly as his hand.

He comes in close, close enough that I can smell the liquor on his breath. “Where thefuckis my girlfriend?”

Seconds pass before he eases up his hold on my throat, allowing me to breathe. I gasp and sob, tears spilling onto my cheeks as I catch my breath.

I try to shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rage comes over him as he squeezes my throat again, the color of his face turning the shade of the blood in his eyes. I try to buck and plead in a look, but I know from his grip that this isn’t a threat or punishment.

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