“No!” I gasped, feeling both naked and broken without the chain. I hadn’t taken it off in years. It had become a part of me. “Why?” my voice croaked. “That was from my father!” Tears threatened my vision. I hadn’t cried with all that I’d experienced, but now stealing a piece of me and disposing of it like trash. I couldn’t take much more.
“I know. How do you think I was able to find you?” he asked.
I didn’t understand, frowning as he stared at me. I shook my head. Was he going to elaborate?
Franco stretched his arm and wrapped it around my shoulders. I swallowed the lump in my throat as he pulled me tight against him and his lips grazed my ear. “Your father wanted to make sure you were safe. How do you think I was able to find you?” he whispered.
I shivered and pulled away, untangling from his grasp. “There was a tracker in the necklace? Let me go.” I didn’t want to believe it, but how else had Franco been able to find me? Mason hadn’t called anyone when we’d left Breckenridge. We’d shown up unannounced in North Dakota on his uncle’s farm.
“I’m never letting you go,” Franco whispered into my ear.
The hair on my arms stood on end. I shimmed away, but his grip on my shoulders tightened.
* * *
We drove through the night straight to Chicago. I kept as far from Franco as possible in the back of the car. After some time, his hand fell away from my shoulder, and I’d been able to relax and fall asleep in short bursts.
The vehicle came to a standstill, and I stirred awake. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I recognized the gated house. It had been my father’s home before he’d died and left it to Nikolai.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
Franco didn’t answer me.
The driver opened the window, punched in a code, and proceeded forward to the front entrance before he shut off the engine and stepped out. He opened the door for Franco.
Franco climbed out of the car and reached in, grabbed my arm, he dragged me out with him.
“Get off me.” I attempted to shrug out of his grasp, but he didn’t let me free. There was nowhere to run, even if I could manage to escape. The wrought-iron fence had arrows at the top, ensuring no one would climb in or out. Not to mention my feet were swollen and gashed from the glass I’d stepped on last night in my plight for freedom.
Victor, one of my father’s oldest friends, stepped out through the front door and down the stairs. He had thinning white hair and was scrawny compared to Franco. “Nikolai isn’t here,” Victor said.
“Fine. We’ll wait.” Franco released his hold on me, and I pulled farther away to keep out of his grasp.
I rubbed my bruised arms and stepped off the cement to let my sore feet sink into the grass. I didn’t care that it was winter. The cold breeze made me numb, helping relieve the pain that I felt all over my body, the burning sting against my raw skin.
“It could be awhile until he’s back. Nikolai went to Breckenridge when he couldn’t get ahold of you,” Victor said.
My arms nestled tight across my chest as I shivered and glanced back at the car. At least the shelter of the vehicle and the seat had provided comfort. Was there any chance that the driver left the keys unattended, and I could steal the car and flee?
It was wishful thinking.
“Come inside,” Victor said. “I’ll call Nikolai and let him know you both have arrived.”
The driver climbed back into the vehicle and started the engine, leaving me to follow Franco and Victor inside. I still didn’t know why we’d come, but I suspected Nikolai wouldn’t be pleased to see me.
Dried blood coated my body, and under the morning light, there were bloodstains on my arms, hands, and feet. I limped up the wooden stairs and into the foyer.
Franco leaned in and sniffed my neck.
I shuddered and winced. Disgusted.
“Find yourself a bathroom. No wife of mine will look this filthy,” he said and yanked me by the hips. He pulled me close and tight against his body. “Freshen up for me. I like a girl who smells good.”
I wanted to puke.
“I’ll call Nikolai. Franco, please have a seat. Make yourself at home,” Victor said.
Relieved when Franco released his hold on me, I hurried out of his clutches and up the stairs. The pain tore at my feet, but I kept a quickened pace. I wanted to get away, and I wasn’t capable of running with tiny shards of glass still embedded in the soles of my feet.