“I need your passport and boarding pass, ma’am,” the officer says.
I frown. “Why?”
“Standard procedure.”
“Is it?”
“Ma’am, you can either give them to me or I will have them confiscated. The choice is yours.”
The alarm bells in the back of my head blare. Something isn’t right. It should have been smooth sailing. Is there something wrong with the passport Zane gave me? Or maybe the airline has a few questions about my last-minute ticket? Either way, I’m an animal backed into a corner and I’mthisclose to lashing out.
Freedom is on the tip of my tongue. I just need to get on that damn plane.
With a huff, I shove my passport and boarding pass into the officer’s hand. He smirks before leaving the room, shutting the door harshly.
My claustrophobia sets in. I donotwant to be here. The room is way too small and stuffy, and although I haven’t been restrained, itfeelslike I have. The officer knows I can’t very well catch my flight now that he has my documents.
I pace back and forth along the back wall, biting my nails and reminding myself to not hyperventilate. There’s no clock in here, probably on purpose. I can’t tell if a couple minutes have passed or a whole hour. What the hell is taking so long?
The next time the door opens, I get my answer.
I hear him before I see him. Theclick click clickof his cane sends a chill shrieking down my spine. I’d know that sound anywhere. When my father steps into the room, I’m surprised and mortified.
“Hello, my daughter,” Arturo Allegra says.
There is no light in his dark blue eyes, no hint of a smile on his thin lips. He’s pushing sixty, but he’s still built like an ox. I know for a fact the cane is for show. Growing up, I learned to fear the whip of his cane whenever I so much asinchedover the line of what he thought was acceptable behavior for a young cartel princess.
My heart lodges in my throat. “No.”
“You have upset me greatly, my dear,” he says without a hint of emotion. That’s how I know he’s telling the truth. My father has never been the kind of man to wear his heart on his sleeves. Through anger, sadness, happiness… He’ll never show you what he’s thinking.
Until he snaps—and then it’s too late.
“I’m not going back,” I rasp, traitorous tears streaking down my cheeks. “You can’t make me go back.”
My father pulls out my fake passport and flips to the first page. “Where did you get this? Tell me, Willow.”
I shake my head. No way in hell I’m giving Zane up. Doing so would ensure his death sentence.
Arturo pulls out my boarding pass next. His dead eyes scan over the information. “England, eh? Did you really think that would work for you? I have contacts all over the world, my dear, as does Esteban.”
“Fuck Esteban!” I seethe. “I’m not marrying that monster.”
“My patience with you is growing thin, Willow. You can either come back of your own free will, or I will drag you back by your hair myself.”
I snort. “You? Oh, please. When was the last time you bothered to do the dirty work yourself?”
My father frowns, his overall composure still and statuesque. “You have a point. I’m far above getting my hands dirty.” He bangs the bottom of his cane on the tile floor twice, summoning a group of four armed guards from the hall. “Bring her,” my father orders. “Try not to damage the merchandise.”
“No!” I scream as they come for me.
I’m surrounded on all sides. There’s no escape. I know resistance is futile, but I’m not letting them take me without a fight.
I kick and I punch and I scratch. I scream and scream and scream. I’m pretty sure I bite someone, but I’m so blind with rage and helplessness, there’s a good chance I imagined it. I’m tossed over someone’s beefy shoulder, but I continue to flail and beat his back and claw at his neck with my nails.
“Please!” I whimper. “Please, don’t do this! I don’t want to marry him!”
My father looks at me without a hint of sympathy. “You’ve always had Liana’s fiery spirit, Willow. I admire that about you—”