Page 78 of When Sinners Fall
At the bottom, I look at the hallway to the right and the one in front of me. There’s got to be a door somewhere. An exit. And that’s what I’ve got to find, but as I look, and my head begins to clear, the words that Dante said float back to me. He warned me what could happen if people knew who I was to him. He said that he’d use a woman for leverage, and that I didn’t want to know what men like him do to women like me in that circumstance.
I move forward and see a door at the end, but the place is like a maze. My heart picks up, and hope explodes in my chest as I see a set of double doors in front of me.
“Ahh, Miss Campbell. You’re awake.” A man’s voice cuts through that hope and replaces it with panic racing through me. I don’t run. I turn and see him, his arms crossed, with a gun in his hand, standing at the end of the hall adjacent to the path to my freedom. “Let me make this easy for you. You won’t leave here without my knowledge or authorisation. If you understand that, then I’m sure I won’t have to use this.” He taps his gun on his arm, ensuring I understand. His tone and words betray the situation, and while he might be going for calm and civil, nothing else about this supports that.
“Come.” He beckons with the gun. I look towards the direction I was heading but decide that I’m in no position to run. Taking a deep breath, I shake my head and tuck my hair behind my ears before walking right at him.
“Who are you? And do you know what you’ve done?” I force my voice to sound strong, and it doesn’t betray my nerves by some miracle.
“My name is Nicolas Ortega, and yes, I think I have some idea.” His thin lips pull back over his teeth as he smiles.
He’s not the same inoffensive man who bumped into me earlier. There was something off about him, but this man screams intimidation. Dark hair slicked into place, dressed in a smart suit with harsh eyes. He must be a psycho for doing this, and that makes me fear everything Dante ever warned me about.
I walk past him into a dining room lavishly decorated with candles, flowers and other adornments. Two place settings occupy the near end of the table. He follows after me and pulls out one of the chairs as I approach.
Once I’m seated, he takes his seat next to me and places the gun next to the silverware. He makes a point to look at me like this is some fucked-up date. He slides the napkin free, puts it in his lap, and reaches for the oversized goblet of red wine.
My eyes glance between the gun and around the room, studying for any kind of escape. It’s dark outside, and I can’t see past the reflection in the large window at the end of the room.
“Miss Campbell, I told you. You won’t leave without my knowledge or approval, so why don’t you relax, and we can enjoy our meal.”
At those words, two servers walk into the room and set down a plate of food for us both. My stomach betrays me and grumbles at the delicious aroma. It must be late, and I’ve not eaten all day.
Nicolas picks up his cutlery and starts to carve the slab of meat before tearing it from the fork. I sit and watch, wondering why he’s doing this and what the end game might be.
“Don’t you like steak?” he asks, talking around his mouthful.
I cross my arms and lean back. “I don’t care for the company.”
His slow chuckle holds no real humour and only ratchets up the tension and my beating heart. He wipes his mouth with the napkin and smiles at me before grabbing the gun and shoving the barrel against my head.
“EAT!”
My eyes tear up even though I’ve squeezed them shut.
After a few seconds, I open them and see his angry face staring at me; the hard metal still pressed into my skin. My hands creep up to find the knife and fork, and I spear a green bean and bring it to my mouth.
“Good. Now, let us try and finish the meal without any drama.” He removes the weapon, resting it back on the table between us and sets about finishing his steak.
With methodical but shaky movements, I continue to cut my food and eat it. No taste registers except that of my salty tears as they continue to run down my cheeks and over my lips.
Nicolas clears his plate first and sits back to watch me do the same. Every bite is forced, and I wait for the next threat or shout, but nothing comes. The anticipation and tension just builds, twisting my stomach in knots.
Finally, I finish, and he smiles and pulls out his phone. He flicks his finger over the screen before giving me a cruel smile and stands.
“Abel, just the man.”
Abel?
I look up towards Nicolas and watch as he turns his attention back to me.
“I think I have your attention. Now, listen very carefully, or pretty Miss Campbell will pay the price. She might anyway, but that’s a gamble you’ll have to take.”
He picks up his gun and shakes it in the air. At that command, two men rush into the room and grab me by my arms, hoisting me up and dragging me off.
“Hey, get off. Stop! Abel!” I scream, but a hand smothers my face again, muffling anything I say.
I jerk in their grasp and make my body go limp so they have to drag me. I’m not sure if it’s the safest move, but it’s the only one I’ve got. They continue to manhandle me, lifting me over one of the man’s shoulders while the other pins my ankles to stop me from kicking.
