Page 13 of Broken Princess

When we leave the city for a long dirt road that feels more like a lengthy driveway, I feel a growing sense of dread. This is not a good development. There's no one out here, and I'm beginning to think maybe I made the wrong choice by not fighting harder about getting into the car. It's not like I stand a chance at physically getting the best of my captors, though. It's far more likely to just pissed them off.

I'm concerned by the fact that my kidnappers don't feel the need to blindfold me or anything. That could just mean they're taking me to a random location rather than anywhere important to their operations, or it could mean they're not worried about me ever leaving to tell anyone.

The only thing thinking like that is going to accomplish is making it impossible for me to keep a cool head and act rationally, so I dismiss the thoughts and engage in a healthy bit of denial about my situation.

Sure enough, we end up going to a secluded house that looks so run down I doubt anyone has actually lived here in over a decade. The guy drags me out of the back seat and up yet another oversized driveway toward the house. The driver gets out and immediately shoots me a dirty look, like I'm the one that's done anything to them.

I walk between them to the front door, and he gives some sort of secret knock before the door opens. An older guy answers the door, immediately looking me up and down.

His lips curve into a crooked smirk. "So this is Carrillo's illegitimate daughter," he muses. "Spitting image of her mother, ain't she?"

I frown in confusion. "You knew my mother?"

He seems annoyed that I would dare to respond to him, but he steps back to let me and the others inside. From the looks of the living room we walk into, I was right about this being a random safe house they found. All the furniture is old and tattered and everything is covered in such a thick layer of dust that I feel like I'm going to sneeze at any moment.

"Me and your father go way back," the older man remarks. "As a matter of fact, you're going to help me settle an old score between us."

I swallow hard. That… definitely does not sound good. "And what's that?"

His smirk grows wider. "See, we used to be friends. That was way back in the day, though. Back when he actually had a spine. Then he fucked me over the first chance he got. Left me for dead on a job that went bad, and I've been waiting a long time for the opportunity to pay him back for that."

"Lucky me," I mumble.

I immediately regret it, but apparently, I'm not so great at holding my tongue in these kinds of situations. I guess terror is the acid that corrodes my filter.

Instead, he just chuckles. “You got moxie, girl, I'll give you that. Get that from your mother, too. Now, I'm going to make a couple things clear. I don't want to hurt you, but the second you get out of line or try anything funny, I will. You cooperate, though, and there's no reason you can't go back to living your life like normal. We have an understanding?"

I swallow hard and nod.

"Good," he says in a tone that's deceptively pleasant. I don't buy the nice guy routine for a second, though. If for no other reason than the fact that he and my father used to be friends. "Mickey, show her to her room," he says, nodding to the guy who still has a gun on me. "And there’s no need for that. We've got an understanding."

Mickey hesitates, looking between me and the guy I'm pretty sure is his boss, before he reluctantly tucks the gun into the back of his waistband. Not exactly the most secure way to store it, but I guess gun safety isn't all that important to kidnapping lowlifes.

"Sure, Milo," he says, motioning for me to follow him.

I do, into a room that's about the size of my dorm room, lit only by a single lightbulb that looks like it's on the way out. It's also dusty, and I don't trust the cleanliness of the mattress in the center of the room whatsoever, but when Mickey shuts and locks the door behind himself, I'm grateful to have a moment alone.

I sink down on the edge of the mattress and take a deep breath for the first time since I arrived at this place. I have no idea whether Milo is telling the truth about not wanting to harm me as long as I cooperate, and no reason to hope for that other than wishful thinking, but it's all I've got right now.

I can't believe my life hangs in the balance of whether Dad is actually going to give a shit about me.

That's just about the worst possible thing that itcouldhinge on.

CHAPTER 7

LORENZO

To say I'm freaking out would be an understatement of epic proportions.

More like completely losing my fucking mind.

I've already exhausted every contact I have on the East Coast, and I'm desperate enough that I have allowed Stefan to help, for all the good it's done.

I can't believe I've had to rely on my arch nemesis, for all intents and purposes. Utterly pathetic.

It's worth it, though, if it means finding her. So far, it hasn't meant shit.

I'm so desperate that I’ve approached her useless father, even though he's been even less helpful. If nothing else, I need someone I can take my anger out on.

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