Page 13 of Revenge & Ruin

“He said six hours, and I have a best-man speech to make. So…” I wave her off with a patronizing little gesture.

I’m praying to all the Gods that capturing Isabella Natali will not be the death of me.

4

ISABELLA

“IKNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!” I scream through the locked door.

There’s a nice little dent in it now from where I was punching it earlier. My hands, now bruised and bloodied, had given up before I could get all the way through, but I get a little bit of satisfaction that Teo will have to pay for the repairs.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Of all the prisons I expected to find myself in, a premium hotel suite is by far one of the least offensive. It’s pristine—or at least it was before I got here—and covered in all the garnishes of opulence. And he was right; the hotel has Netflix.

That doesn’t make it any less of a prison, though.

“I know your name,Dante.You’ll be the first one my brother skins alive,” I threaten once more.

To his credit, the quieter man hasn’t broken once, not in the three hours I’ve been held here. Not when he undoubtedly heard me smashing the desk lamp on the floor, nor when I nearly broke my own hands on the door.

I slam the wood once more before backing away.

I go back to the window, where I’ve been crafting a sheet rope for the last hour and a half. I keep stopping every ten minutes to make some kind of racket so they think I’m not plotting anything.

The room is on the thirteenth floor. I triple-counted while leaning out of the window over the dizzying heights of Brooklyn below. Between the bed sheets, towels, and the spare linens in the closet, I think I can make it down at least four stories.

Which obviously doesn’t get me all the way to the bottom. But itdoesreach the open window a few floors below.

Chances are, there’s another wedding guest in there. But at least their door won’t be locked and guarded. I hope

I just need to find a solution to my current conundrum: what can I tie the top of the sheet rope to?

The bedframe seemed like the most sensible option, but it scrapes across the floor whenever I put any weight on it. My current idea is to tie it to the brass doorknob because, despite my best efforts, that door hasn’t moved an inch yet.

But I need extra length to get the rope through the entirety of the room, which is why I’m currently rifling through Teo’s suitcase.

I try not to pry too much, but it’s hard for me not to judge the contents. The man has more laptops than he does pairs of boxer briefs, and the only item of clothing that doesn’t seem to have been purchased from T.J.Maxx is a pristine Rolex hidden at the bottom.

None of which help me with the sheet-rope conundrum.

With a sigh, I snatch up a couple of hoodies and get to work. It’s not ideal, but it holds and stretches far enough to reach the open window below.

I give the knot around the doorknob one last experimental tug before I make my way back over to the window.

The drop isn’t any less terrifying, but it’s not like I have any other choice.

I secure the rope around my waist and slowly climb up onto the sill, testing the hold as I lean my body weight further and further out the window.

This will work. This will work. It has to work.

Suddenly, the rope goes slack.

My arms flail, reaching for something, anything to hold on to. My fingers graze the side of the window frame, just millimeters away from finding their grip. But nothing is stopping me from falling forward anymore.

That terrifying drop looms before me. Wind whistles in my ears. My heart rises to my throat as I begin to plunge down, down, down.

The rope suddenly tightens around my waist, slamming me into the side of the building.

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