Anya Santini de Luna POV
My body aches from all the anxiety and terror I'm feeling.
At least my bladder's no longer going to burst, but standing in the room with our captors, my relief is quickly forgotten.
Are they going to kill one of us?
All of us?
My eyes land on the tooth near Marc Vincent, and I feel the ache in my jaw.
God.
This is horror. Pure freaking horror.
My gaze flits all over the room, my breaths already rushing over my lips.
How am I going to survive this?
"Uncuff Marc Vincent," the one in charge orders.
The other guy unlocks Marc Vincent's cuffs, then another order is given. "Get up, Marc Vincent."
I watch as Xander's brother climbs to his feet. He has the same emotionless expression on his beaten face as Xander.
Riccardo gestures to his guard or soldier. I'm not sure what to call him.
"Darius will shoot one of you unless..." Riccardo gets up and looks at Marc Vincent. "You have to choose who will get tortured next. If you refuse, Darius will kill one of you."
Oh, God.
No.
My eyes flit wildly between the men because I know what's coming. There's no way Marc Vincent will choose Xander. I'm a stranger to him.
Marc Vincent locks eyes with Xander, and as the seconds crawl by, my heart beats out of my chest.
"The girl," he mutters.
No. Oh, God. No!
"That was an easy choice," Riccardo chuckles. "I'm surprised, though. If she's dating your brother, he's going to be pissed off with you torturing his girl."
Marc Vincent doesn't know about the lie!
Marc Vincent's eyes flick between Xander and me, but he doesn't say anything.
Riccardo takes a seat again, then snaps, "You heard me, Marc Vincent. Torture the girl."
Marc Vincent's hands fist at his side, and when he steps toward me, I take one backward.
There's no doubt in my mind he'll kill me to save Xander.
The man, who I now know is Darius, points his gun at Xander.
"You have three seconds before Darius kills Xander," Riccardo mutters as if he's bored with us.
My eyes are still wildly flitting around when Marc Vincent darts forward. His fist connects with my cheek, and as unbearable pain radiates through my entire skull, I go down like a sack of potatoes.
Instinctively, I curl into a fetal position and cover my head with my arms.
"I didn't say beat. I said torture," Riccardo snaps.
I don't even dare to peek around me and keep my eyes squeezed shut.
The next moment Marc Vincent grabs my right hand and pries my fist open. My eyes fly open, and horrified I watch as he brings a set of pliers closer to my hand.
"NoNoNoNo!" I scream, and when I try to push him away from me with my left hand, he uses his body to block me, grips my pinky finger, and rips the nail off.
Between my wails of pain, I hear Riccardo sneer, "I thought you were in a relationship with the girl."
There's no emotion in Xander's voice as he replies, "Would it help if I lost my shit?" I hear him let out a sigh. "It won't stop you from torturing her."
"Take the girl and Marc Vincent back to their rooms," Riccardo shouts.
Is it over?
I'm yanked to my feet and shoved toward the doorway. I only get a glimpse of Xander, who's staring at Riccardo, unfeeling as ever.
I cradle my right hand against my shirt, my blood seeping into the fabric.
Marc Vincent is locked in the room opposite ours before I'm shoved into the four walls that have become my prison.
I hurry to the corner where I sit down, and pressing my face into my knees, I try to process what just happened.
The pain burns from my pinky up to my wrist as if the digit has been set on fire. There's a throbbing ache in my jaw, and my chaotic emotions threaten to make me lose my sanity.
I had a perfect life before my parents died.
How did it come to this? I, an orphan who's going to be tortured and killed by criminals.
What did I do to deserve this?
I wish I could be like Xander and just not care.
Xander.
I lift my head and stare at the locked door.
Are they going to kill him?
God, I hope not. I don't want to be alone in this room.
I've only known him a day, and already I'm attached to him. I think it's because of the harrowing situation we find ourselves in. He's the only person I can connect with. Just having him here with me helps.
It has nothing to do with the attraction I felt when I saw how good-looking he was but pure survival. The odds of me getting out of this hell alive are better with Xander by my side.
If he dies, they'll probably kill me shortly after.
I haven't prayed since I lost my parents. I've been too angry with God. But with Xander's life hanging in the balance, I start to whisper, "Dear, God, don't let them kill Xander. Or Me. Or Marc Vincent. Please send an angel to watch over us. I don't want to die, and I'm so scared. Please help us."
As the prayer leaves my lips, I don't feel any better.
If miracles existed, my parents would still be alive, and I wouldn't be locked in a room.
Please come back, Xander.
XXX
Alexander Vittorio POV
While Marc Vincent and Anya are taken out of the room, Riccardo Ponti trains his gun on me. When I hear movement behind me, I keep my eyes locked on Ponti.
My arms are grabbed, and I'm yanked backward. Forced to sit down on a chair, Ponti's men strap my forearms to the armrests.
Only then does Ponti place his gun on his lap. Removing a packet of cigarettes, he lights one before he says, "I hear your father attacked Ivanov's place. He thought you were taken in retaliation for trying to kidnap Olga."
He's not holding us for information. Fuck. That means he'll kill us once he's had his fun.
"As you know, my father is against the mafia and bratva working together. For fun, we sent a ransom note to your father. We're not asking much. Just one million pesos each for you and Marc Vincent. It's a bargain."
There's no way my father will pay for our release. Ponti is playing a mind game with him.
"As an incentive, we'll send your father recordings and proof of life. For your sake, I hope he swallows his pride."
That will never happen.
Ponti takes a deep pull of his cigarette then slowly blows out the smoke. "Who is this Anya de Luna, and what is she to you?"
I'm not telling this man shit and just stare at him.
He gestures to one of the men, my hand is grabbed, and a knife is plunged through my skin and bone.
I can't keep myself from groaning as the sharp pain tears through my hand. "Tell me." A threatening chuckle escapes me. "I'm going to kill you."
"Who's the girl?" Riccardo Ponti asks again.
I clench my jaw while sucking in a deep breath of air.
This is exactly like the training I'll receive at Palawan's next year. If I can't survive a little torture, I won't make it during training.
"If she means nothing to you, she's of no use to me," Ponti threatens.
Fuck.
I should let them kill her. It will be merciful compared to what lies ahead.
I stare at Ponti, and as he gestures to one of the men to take care of Anya, I hiss, "She's my girlfriend."
What the fuck are you doing?
Ponti gives a skeptical look, then orders, "Go get the girl."
He doesn't believe the lie we've told him.
I keep my expression neutral, and when Anya is dragged back into the room, she's also shoved down on a chair, and her wrists are strapped to the armrests.
Her eyes are wide on the knife embedded into the back of my hand, and it looks like she's going to puke.
"How long have you been in a relationship?" Ponti asks.
"Just over a year," I answer so Anya doesn't fuck things up.
"Don't you like Russian pussy or Filipino sexy pussy?" he asks.
"I like my women exotic," I mutter. "If it weren't for Anya, I'd try some Italian pussy."
The knife is ripped from my hand, and a curse bursts from me, "Iisus Khristos." I shake my head and chuckle darkly because, so help me God, I will kill Riccardo Ponti.
One of Ponti's men walks to Anya, and grabbing her hair, he yanks her head back and presses the knife to her pulse. She makes a squeaking sound, her terrified gaze darting to me.
I've seen fear before but nothing like the horror in her amber eyes.
Christ, you're going to get yourself killed for a woman you don't know.
"Tell me about your girlfriend," Ponti says as he lights another cigarette.
"She's from Italy. She knows English language. She recently lost her parents, so she only has me." I hate lying, but I'm fucking good at it. "She just finished school and came to the Philippines to be with me. We're going to elope so I can keep her here with me."
Ponti tilts his head, his eyes flicking between us. "You don't look in love with her."
"No fucking shit," I mutter. "This isn't the honeymoon I envisioned for us."
"You didn't seem to mind when your brother ripped off her nail," he mentions. He gestures to his men, then says, "Choose who will take the beating from my men."
Fuck my life.
I shake my head as I let out a chuckle, "Of course, it will be me."
He nods, and a soldier comes to unstrap my forearms, and I'm pulled to a standing position. It's only then I notice the pool of blood that's formed by the leg of the chair.
If Ponti doesn't kill us, infection will. I doubt the man is going to provide us with first aid.
Another soldier comes to yank my arms behind my back, and cable ties are used to restrain me.
Anya's breathless with fear, her eyes still glued to me.
The men attack all at once, and with my wrists tied, I can't do much to defend myself. I take punch after punch and hear Anya cry, "Please stop! You're going to kill him."
I stagger a step back while a grin spreads over my face, "It will take a hell of a lot more than this to kill me, sweetheart."
The next punch to my nose drops my ass to the floor. The men start to kick, and when a boot slams into my head, everything goes black.
XXX
