Chapter 47

GABRIEL

“You couldn’t fucking start with that?” My voice was louder than I intended, especially around women, but I didn’t care. Alice flinched. “You stood at the door, wasting my fucking time, instead of leading with that? Calling me?”

“Gabriel…” Alice licked her lips, looking nervous. “The caller specifically said you shouldn’t be involved. You shouldn’t even be here. Please leave.”

“Like fuck I’ll leave,” I gritted. “The fucking person who took her knows me, and you want me to leave?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I just don’t want them to do anything to her.” She paused, sniffing. “They didn’t ask us not to call the police; they only asked us not to call you.”

There should have been egoistic pride in knowing this man feared me more than the police—that what I’d do to him would be far worse than any legal consequence. But I felt nothing but a heaviness in my chest. “So, you called the police?”

“The call came three minutes before you did,” Sam answered when Alice, busy controlling her tears, remained silent.

I turned to him unwillingly. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I called him,” Alice defended, crossing her arms. “And now, if your questions are done, someone has still kidnapped my best friend.”

Ignoring her, I exchanged a look with my brother, who had been characteristically silent since we entered the house. He raised an eyebrow. “Any idea who this could be?”

I shook my head.

His eyes turned to Alice. “What’s the ransom amount?”

She nibbled her nails. “A million.”

“No way the guy thought they could arrange the money without getting you involved,” Damien commented, his eyes on me, pointedly ignoring Alice’s offended expression. “Can you arrange that much cash?”

“Yeah.”

“Do it. I’ll take the money to them.”

“And I’ll sit back while you save her?”

“No.” The smirk on his lips was sinister.

SOFIA

For days, I’d felt watched, dismissing it as paranoia. I’d gone to the grocery store because Alice and I had devoured all the ice cream during her visit, and I needed more for a new baking recipe. Lost in thought, I considered how it had been almost a week since I’d last seen or spoken to Gabriel, how he hadn’t even checked on me. I’d opened my phone, his contact displayed, contemplating calling him—just to let him know I’d be staying a couple more days—not that he’d asked; I just missed him.

And then, I remembered being pulled into a dark alley, my phone falling as I was dragged there, a cloth over my mouth. I remembered silent screams, a dizzy spell, before my survival instincts kicked in and I fought back.

My eyes opened in a dark room.

The first thing I registered was a throbbing, radiating headache, nauseating. The second was a smell—like rotten eggs, chicken, or dead mice. The head pain made it hard to distinguish, but it was overpowering, horrible, and added to my nausea.

Third, my throat felt like sandpaper. My mouth was taped shut, and my hands were tied behind my back.

I was slumped against something hard—maybe the floor—I couldn’t tell in the darkness. The room was small, with a single, small, closed square window. No light came in; it was still dark outside. I’d been out for a couple of hours, at most.

Once my senses registered my situation, emotions flooded in. Sheer panic was first.

My grandpa must be waiting and panicking. He’d likely called Alice, who would have contacted Sam. Assuming several hours had passed, they’d be searching for me.

Panic escalated.

I was kidnapped. I’d never been kidnapped before. Why me?

Then it clicked.

I wasn’t normal anymore.

I was Sofia Whitlock. A billionaire’s wife.

Tears welled, panic turning to anger, which dissipated quickly, leaving sadness.

Were they using me to get to Gabriel? His money, perhaps?

My chest felt hollow. The thought that they were using me to reach the husband I hadn’t spoken to in over a week made me even more nauseous. The same husband who hadn’t checked on me in days, but whom I knew would be here in a heartbeat, paying whatever they demanded.

That thought had barely registered when there was a rattling sound, and the door opened. The amount of light was blinding after the darkness. Two male voices came from the other side.

“I told you he’s like a fucking puppy, and she’s got the leash,” one said, unhappy. “You took her; he was bound to follow.”

“Don’t underestimate him. He ain’t a puppy; he’s a fucking lion,” the other scowled. “If he ever gets his hands on us, he’ll burn us alive for touching his wife.”

I squirmed.

Him.

Gabriel.

My husband was here.

“Wonder what magic she’s done on him in just three months that he’s ready to pay a fucking million,” the first man said.

I heard the second man chuckle humorlessly. “Must have a tight pussy.”

“Man, I’m so tempted to try it.”

A shiver ran through me. In all the panic and sadness, I hadn’t considered this.

“Don’t you dare,” the second man warned. “She’s Gabriel Whitlock’s wife. If you want a fuck, get another girl.”

I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. I wanted out.

“She’s drugged. It’s not like she’s going to know I fucked her.”

I wanted to vomit again.

It was getting hard to feign unconsciousness while listening to them discuss raping me. I should have felt relief that the second man seemed to have some decency, but I didn’t. Fear consumed me.

“Don’t you get it?” the second man said, his voice firmer. “I’ve got to go collect the money. Don’t touch the girl.”

The first man scoffed.

I heard footsteps, then the door closed. I was alone with the man who’d been looking at me with predatory eyes, thinking he could rape me while I was unconscious, unaware I was only pretending.

Everything stilled. Relief almost washed over me when I thought he’d left, but I froze when I heard his breath and felt it on my neck. I shivered as his whisper reached me. “I know you’re awake, sweetheart.”