JESSICA
I’m released from the hospital Wednesday, late afternoon. They let me leave on my own, so I called an Uber to my apartment for the last time and just pray to God that Jack isn’t waiting there for me. I texted him while in the hospital that I was on a short business trip to get intel. Who knows if he actually believed me because he never responded. I guess I’ll find out. With my luck, the house will be a mess, and Kinzie will be throwing up everywhere from being fed pop-tarts for dinner every night.
I get dressed into the clothes Vince dropped off for me, reminding me of the look in his solemn eyes as he told me we were through, not giving me a single chance to protest. I slide my sweats over my stomach, remembering the little one growing inside. My hand traces a gentle circle over it before I slip on my socks and sandals, take one last look at myself in the tiny hospital mirror, and head out the door.
The car pulls up with perfect timing, and I hop inside. The driver is silent as he drives, but I don’t make too big of a fuss about it. I'm not one for small talk. The car drops me off just before sunset, which gives me enough time to pack before Lee told me he’d come by. I still have a dog carrier from the one time Kinzie flew to New York with me, and I make a mental note as I ascend in the elevator to pull that down last, so she doesn’t freak out too much.
When I step into my apartment, I’m pleasantly surprised to see that the house is spotless and Kinzie’s asleep on the couch. She hears the door close, and her eyes fly open. “Hi, baby.” I coo, and she runs to me with excitement. I reach down and pet her head, then cross to the bedroom to quickly pack. My phone buzzes, and I look to see that it’s Lee.
“Good evening, Ms. Lee. I’ll be at your apartment in two hours.”
“Thank you.” I text back then toss my phone onto the bed. There are a plethora of items I need to keep, mostly sentimental things or essentials. Either way, I want to pack light. I can survive with my son or daughter on a million dollars for a while if I'm wise. But money is the last thing on my mind. I feel unsafe knowing that someone will always be trying to kill Vince, especially if things continue the way they have with the Russians. I’m solely focused on getting out of here as quickly as possible and finding the peace I’ve always wanted.
When I reach for Kinzie’s carrier, she starts to growl. “It’ll be okay, Kinzie. We’ll start somewhere new.” I try to soothe her, but when I notice her hairs are standing straight on her back, I pause. The sound of the front door shutting relieves and annoys me all at once. I thought Jack wouldn’t come back here after I told him I’d be gone. I groan and walk out into the main room.
“Jack, seriously-“ I stop in my tracks, and my jaw drops the moment I see him. “Carlito, how did you….” I look back to the door as it swings open, and four massive men I recognize as Vince’s, walk through the door. I would assume they want to escort me to my car for an escape, but by the looks on their faces, something entirely different is going down.
“You can come with us,” Carlito leads, like I have other options, pursing his lips as he flips open the knife he’s been clutching in his fist. “Or,” he tilts his head, and the blade catches the light, shining brightly into my eyes. “I can make you.” Kinzie continues to growl, and I’m trying to stay as calm as possible.
“Good girl.” He smiles when I take a step forward, intending to meet me halfway. After he’s nearly a foot away, I clench my fists. With everything I have in me, I swing my leg into the air, finessing a perfect roundhouse kick to his wrist and subsequently knocking the knife out of his hand.
“Ow! What the fuck, bitch?!” He goes from crazy to unhinged in a matter of moments, throwing punches that I continue to evade until he lets his guard down, and I sock him right in the nose. Blood gushes out onto his suit before covering his face with his hands.
“GRAB HER ASSHOLES, WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?” He screams, and they crowd me, taking my arms and legs as I’m swinging them. They pull a cotton bag over my head, so I can’t see anything, but it’s apparent that they’re leading me down the fire escape. Someone pulls my hands behind my back and zip-ties my wrists with multiple ties before I’m tossed into the back of the car, and it begins moving.
I try to squint through the little holes in the back, but I see nothing, it's too dark, and everything is happening so fast I can barely process it. If I say a word, I'm almost sure they’ll shoot me. What the fuck does Carlito want that I'm able to provide him with? Their family has already taken everything from me, the love of my life, independence, and safety. Tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t feel bothered by my emotions anymore. Strength to persevere is all I need, and I have enough to figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of this predicament.
We drive for what feels like an hour and come to a stop after ratting around— on what felt like rocky gravel— for the final half of the ride. Meaty hands grab me from all sides, and I’m carried over someone's shoulder. They walk for at least two minutes before we begin to climb a staircase. As we turn a corner, my shoulder catches on what feels like a rough brick, and we continue up what feels like three more flights of stairs.
Eventually, I’m tossed to the ground, and the back of my head hits some bricks before my tailbone cracks down onto cement. I yelp in pain, and someone snorts a laugh.
“Vince is an idiot for tying himself to the likes of her.” A deep voice bellows, and I recognize it to be Barnes. How could he betray us like this? I bite my lip anxiously as footsteps approach. A moment later, someone pulls the bag from my head, and I see we are in an abandoned building of some sort.
The edges of the bricks look charred around the open window, and it seems we are in the corner of a continuing stairwell. I can smell something burning in the crisp evening air, maybe even see the smoke a little, but I’m not certain. Carlito crouches on top of my legs, his foot on either side as he twirls an even bigger knife than before, between his index finger and thumb.
“It’s a shame you’re so pretty.” He bites his lip and touches his nose to mine. The smell of his breath is smokier than the surrounding air, and I wonder if I’ve been smelling him this whole time. I breathe shakily, and he brushes the hair off my shoulder with his knife. He mounts his free hand to the wall behind us, and with the blade, he lowers it behind my back, breathing down my neck as I remain frozen with fear.
The knife wriggles between my hands, and he barely puts any effort into cutting the many zip-ties around my wrists.
“I’m surprised you want to put yourself at risk for round two.” I look at the cut across his bruised nose, then back in his sinister eyes. He’s shifting his jaw, snarling his upper lip.
“I’m the one with the knife.” He whispers in my ear before grabbing my neck with his hand, using it to pull my head close to him. I can still breathe, but it’s forced, and I try to remain calm so he doesn’t become more aggressive. He grazes his lips against mine, and I jut my head to the side. He lets out a laugh with his mouth widely spread before smacking my head against the bricks again. I’m sure I have a concussion at this point because when he stands, it looks like he’s moving in slow motion.
“I’ve always envied my asshole brother.”
“Oh, goody, a villain origin story.” I push myself up a bit, and he spins around, backhanding me across the face so hard I feel my bottom lip begin to bleed.
“Shut the fuck up.” He shrugs, blinking at me as if to dare me to say another word. I don’t make a noise; I just watch as he continues to pace.
“When I heard the Russians wanted an alliance, and he rejected, I saw an opportunity.” I notice the gun strapped to his belt as he turns to begin pacing the other way.
“I’m not a villain. I’m an opportunist.” He spits, side-barring to look me in the eyes, but I turn my head away.
“Then you fuckin’ jumped in the way of my plans, and here we are, dream girl. Here we are.” He licks both his lips. “Now, what are we gonna do with you?” He pulls out a small white bottle that looks like glue from his pants. He bites off the lid and begins to squeeze out the liquid all over me, the ground, the walls. I smell it before it registers— lighter fluid.
“You don’t have to do this. I was leaving.” I begin to sound weaker than I want to, but I'm begging for not only my life but the one inside me. It’s a horrible feeling, opening a pit the size of the city in my chest.
“It’s too late for bargains, sis.” He snorts, and the guys have a laugh as well. I look at Barnes for a second, but he won’t meet my eyes.