Page 88 of Betraying Family Vows
"She say anything yet?"
"Nah, not really."
"Okay, I'll go get the boss," someone says and walks away.
Something hard pokes at my temple, a gun barrel. I flinch but force myself to stay silent.
"Your little boyfriend was bleeding out when we left him, you know." The voice is closer now, breath hot against the side of my head. "Head wound. Chest wound. Not looking too good."
My chest tightens, but I force myself to stay silent. They're lying.
If he were dead, they wouldn't have bothered with the bag.
They wouldn't have tied me up.
They'd have left me in the dirt beside him.
No, I think. They want me alive for a reason.
Bait.
"Did you hear me?" His shadow shifts forward. "He's probably dead by now."
I don't speak.
"Nothing to say to that?" He laughs. "Suit yourself. You'll beg before it's over."
Footsteps retreat, and a door closes. I don't see any shadows, at least none that are moving, so I think I might be alone.
Under the bag, my breathing sounds loud. I look from side to side, but I can't make anything out.
Time passes, I don't know how long. Minutes bleed into what must be hours. My whole body aches from being in the same position. My bladder is painfully full, but I refuse to ask for anything. The idea of showing any vulnerability makes me physically ill.
I try to shift, to find some relief, but the zip ties hold firm and none comes.
Distant sounds filter through the space around me. Footsteps coming and going. Doors opening and closing.
At one point, something heavy scrapes across the floor, the unmistakable sound of a gun being set down on a table.
My throat grows more parched with each passing minute. I try to work up saliva, but my mouth feels like cotton.
How long do they plan to keep me here?
What are they waiting for?
The questions circle in my mind like vultures, but no answers come.
Then, finally, the door opens and new footsteps approach. These are different from the others, a tapping sound that tells me it's dress shoes, not boots.
I straighten in the chair despite the pain in my shoulders.
"Leave us."
I hear shuffling, the scrape of chairs, muttered words I can't make out. A door opens and closes. Then silence again.
Guess I wasn't alone.
"You're braver than I expected."
