Page 70 of Righteous Deceit

A third man grabs my shoulder, and I surge forward, removing his grasp. Back against a tree, I’m surrounded by three strangers who smile with sinister intent. I can’t see their faces because of the trees’ shadows and the moon’s limited light. They also chose one of the few places in the maze that doesn’t offer manufactured light.

“Who are you?” I say again, a demand that makes them chuckle.

“Ye bruduh made a mistake sidin’ with de likes of Caruso.”

His thick Irish brogue is enough to send me into a panic. My throat is dry, and I force myself to swallow.

I slide against the trunk of the tree, freeing the obstacle from the path I need to escape. I know this forest. They don’t.

“Whe’r ye goin’?” The same man speaks.

I take a step back.

“Em. I don’t tink you should be doin’ dat.”

No fucking shit, asshole. But I’m outnumbered—three to one. Running is my best chance.

I turn and begin running. I move between the trees, my heart thundering in my chest.

“Diego!” I scream.

I can feel the men right on my heels. My feet pound against the earth, and I ignore the sharp pain that hits when I step on a broken stick or a sharp rock. The skin of my legs and arms catch on the bark of trees as I rocket past them, slicing into my flesh.

“Diego!” I yell again, hoping like hell he can hear me wherever he is in this fucking maze of trees.

I can’t let myself get lost on how these men found me. My focus remains on the pattern of brush before me. I zigzag between trees and jump over logs. My deafening heartbeat is drowned out by the heaviness in my breath. But the footfalls behind me are what have me pushing faster and faster.

“Diego!”

There is terror in my voice, and I hate it. I hate that these Irish assholes chasing me down know how fucking scared I am.

Fuck.

“Alessia,” one of them calls, and I strangle the sob in my throat by biting my bottom lip.

I glance over my shoulder, trying to ascertain how close they are when I run full speed into something solid. For a split second, I think it’s a tree until its hands grab my biceps and squeeze.

“Gotcha.”

A broken whimper breaks through my clamped lips. “I will kill each and every one of you.”

They laugh.

It’s not the first time a group of men have laughed at me, but it’s the first time I’ve wanted to cry at the humiliation and panic of it all.

“Diego!” I try again, but the stutter in his name stops it from echoing into the night like I need it to.

“Yer man won’t find ye in time.”

The man holding me lets my arms go to brush his hand down my cheek, and I spit in his face. He backhands me, and I let the impact throw me to the ground. Crab crawling backward, I move until my palm finds a solid rock.

Standing slowly, I eye the three men surrounding me, then throw the rock with every ounce of power. It connects with the jaw of the man closest to me, and he growls.

“Cunt!”

I lean down and pick up as big of a branch as I can manage. “Fuck off,” I screech.

“We woulda left yer alone, Bianchi. But ye hadta align wit’ New York. We gotta senda message, and we’re gonna use you to do dat.”

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