Page 49 of Devil's Tulip

My heart flies to my throat as I turn to Michael. “Are we–are we in New York?” It can’t be… right? No, no, no.

His voice is as cool and disinterested as the glance he flicks at me. “Yes.”

Dread pools in my stomach, and I stare at him in dumbfounded silence for several seconds. “You brought me back to Manhattan?” My voice breaks on the question, and I blink rapidly to hold back the hot tears stinging my eyes.

Michael doesn’t even flinch. “I told you I’m taking you to my primary residence. I live in Manhattan,” he answers robotically.

I spin towards Lorenzo, searching his face for something—anything—but he just watches me with vague interest.

No.

“No. I can’t be here.I can’t be here.” I lunge for the door, yanking at the handle, but it doesn’t budge. My heart splits open, and the tears I’m holding back spill down my face unbidden as I fight with the handle.

I can’t be here.

I give up on the handle and whirl back to Michael, whose stiff frame is swimming in and out of my tear-filled vision. “Michael.” I grab his hand, gripping it like a lifeline. “I can’t be here. You know that. Take me back.Please.”

“I’m afraid I can’t, Gianna.”

What?

I stare at him in stunned silence, my fingers slowly slipping from his hand. My heart aches awfully, my throat tightening like it’s been strangled from the inside. Breathing hurts. Existing hurts.

I shift away from him and wipe my tears to clear my vision, but the more I wipe off, the more take their place, blinding me. It’s endless. A vicious, unrelenting cycle.

Then the car descends into an underground parking lot, and my body goes rigid. I sniff, swallowing back the rest of my tears painfully. I need to get it together. I need to have my wits about me.

The car goes past several fancy vehicles before pulling into a spot in front of an elevator guarded by scary-looking men—armed men.Holding long assault rifles.

The doors unlock with a sharp click, but I don’t move. I don't even breathe.

Run.

I should run. I want to run.

But where? If I move wrong,will they shoot me?

From my peripheral, I notice Michael getting out of the car, but my focus stays on the two men standing on either side of the elevator and the other two pacing around. Then, suddenly, my door swings open, and Michael bends towards me, filling my vision. And it sinks in—I’m completely at his mercy right now.

“Come on, Gianna. We need to go. Rafael’s waiting for us.”

I blink up at him. “Rafael? Who’s that?” Though I don’t really care. The only thing that matters is that the person we’re about to meet here isn’t my uncle.

“A friend. I told you we’re making a stop at his place before going to mine.” He sounds slightly irritated, and I gulp.

Heart beating frantically, I get out of the car. He places a firm hand on my back and guides me towards the elevator, Lorenzo by his side.

The men bow their heads respectively at Michael, and as we approach, the elevator doors part for us. The three of us get in, and when Michael drops his hand from my back, I instantly move as far away from him as I can, pressing myself againstthe farthest corner. He notices, his brows drawing together in a frown, but he says nothing.

The elevator hums with charged silence as it climbs, the tension pressing in on my ribs. The higher we go, the heavier my stomach feels, like it’s dropping out of me completely.

Then—ding.

The doors slide open.

And standing right there on the other side, waiting for me, is my biggest nightmare.

Uncle Aldo.

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