If it took his death, that’s the price he would pay. As long as she lived, the world would be righted.
Finally, the winds abated.
Now, for the long journey, with only the hope that she was where they thought Gianni had taken her.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“TAKE A BREATH in and then push it back out.” Rachel continued to repeat those words to herself in a low whisper as she sat on the filthy cot in the pitch-black room. The last thing she needed was to panic.
Two days she’d been there.
She knew that only from the remarks made by Gianni’s minions. They’d hauled her by her ropes from the filthy room, bringing her into the main part of the house to question her about Adriane, trying to force any information they could from her that they thought would help them in the takeover of Corythia.
She didn’t know anything of that sort, and if she did, she certainly wouldn’t tell them! She’d closed her eyes as they’d tried terrorizing her by making lewd comments about what they planned to do to her once Gianni felt her no longer useful to him.
She was nothing to them — less than nothing — and they weren’t afraid to remind her of that fact, over and over again.
She’d woken up when she was dragged from the boat onto land and then quickly transported to a helicopter. The wind had been picking up speed as the chopper hurried away, deeper inland, outracing the hurricane that had been on their tail.
A few times she’d thought they’d go down. The man sitting next to her with the cold, dark eyes hadn’t even blinked while they’d been tossed about. She’d said a few prayers, hoping they wouldn’t end up in a fiery pile of metal.
She didn’t know how they made it out, but somehow she’d survived that ordeal only to be moved to a private jet. She’d been in the air all through the night, to somewhere far from Corythia, and had ended up in this new prison. She was sure that hell would be a safer and more comfortable place. If it weren’t for the babies she was trying to protect, she would gladly have wished for death.
Her stomach had been cramping up for two days, but the first time she’d been allowed to use the restroom, she’d burst into relieved tears at seeing not a trace of blood in her urine.
As sore as she was, then, so far she still wasn’t bleeding. Maybe her children would make it through all of this. She had to keep her wits about her and think if she had any chance of escape.
Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on her twins, on a nice warm bath and a hot meal. She tried to dwell on pleasant thoughts so she could calm her rapidly beating heart.
Anything was better to focus on than the putrid smell surrounding her. The men were barely feeding her, just the scraps they placed before her during their demented meetings. She couldn’t afford to lose the few nutrients they’d provided.
She would make it through this. She wasn’t one to give up.
Someone would rescue her soon. Either Adriane or Rafe, surely. They wouldn’t leave her in this hellhole. But what if they didn’t know how to find her? How could they know?
It seemed so hopeless.
No! She wouldn’t think that way. If she did, she’d really panic and only make her situation worse.
“Time to come speak to the boss.”
Rachel didn’t open her eyes at the gruff command. She didn’t want to go out there again with those animals. They were too disgusting to even call human.
They were scum.
“Get your ass up now, before I have to come over there and assist you.”
The way he said it, he was clearly hoping she would defy him. The last time she had… A shudder passed through her at the thought. Gianni had walked in as the man had her trapped against the bed, and he’d ripped the man off her.
Not that he cared about her safety, but he’d told his minion that now wasn’t the time. He was too afraid they’d kill her in the process before he could get information from her. But once she’d served that purpose, she was all theirs.
They planned to do unspeakable things to her on video for Adriane’s benefit. She didn’t know when the next part of their nasty game was going to begin, but fear seized her heart at the thought of it.
With trembling legs, she rose from the bed and opened her eyes to look at the man’s face. She wanted to remember every single feature. When she got out of this — because she refused to believe she wouldn’t — she wanted to be able to identify him.
He would pay. They all would.
Rachel followed him down the narrow hallways, the only light coming from the uncovered bulbs hanging every ten feet or so. Layers of dust and grime covered every surface, and the windows were boarded up.
If she’d had a clue where they were, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so hopeless, felt that there was no chance of rescue. This was obviously not Gianni’s regular abode. The son of a king wouldn’t live in such filth.
No. This was a perfect place for him to have her — a place no one would suspect. How had he managed to get American men to work for him? There were a few men from his country there, about five that she’d managed to count. But he also had about ten Americans, to judge by their accents. Why would they help him?
Money. The depths that some humans could stoop to for a few dollars was abhorrent to her. They not only had no problem with torturing a pregnant woman, but they enjoyed doing it.
When they reached the dingy kitchen where she’d been brought a couple of times before, the thug thrust her into a chair none too gently, then slapped a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, its lumps turning her stomach.
“Don’t turn your nose up at good food, princess. You will need the energy to get through the interrogation that’s coming,” he taunted her, and moved off to a corner of the room to watch.
Just then, the door opened and Gianni walked in, his eyes as black and hollow as they’d been each time she had the misfortune of seeing him.
He sat across from her and sneered — his idea of a smile — as he waited to see what she would do. They had mocked her the first time she’d refused to eat what they chose to serve her, telling her she wasn’t royalty yet and had better take what they offered.
Then Gianni had spent hours relentlessly questioning her. What he asked her, she didn’t have answers for. Even if she wanted to tell him, she couldn’t.
A shudder ran through her. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it.
It’s for the babies, she told herself as she picked up the spoon and took a bite of the half-cooked oatmeal. It was disgusting, but she hoped it would stave off starvation and give her just enough energy not to fall face-first when she had a chance at escape. Because the first chance she got, she was running as far from this place as possible.