Page 26 of Ruined By Blood
I press myself against the door, keeping as much distance between us as possible. My fingers twist nervously in the hem of my shirt. Every few seconds, Enzo glances my way, probably checking if I'm plotting another escape.
"You like this song?" he asks, his deep voice competing with Steve Perry's vocals.
I stare out the window, watching trees flash by in the darkness. If I jumped out now at this speed, I'd probably break my neck. Maybe that wouldn't be the worst outcome.
My throat feels tight, heart hammering against my ribs. I want to speak, to act normal, but fear crushes my chest like a vise.
We turn onto a narrow road, headlights illuminating a dense forest on either side. This is truly the middle of nowhere. My stomach twists with renewed anxiety. No witnesses. No one to hear if I scream.
After what feels like hours, the SUV slows as we approach a large silhouette against the night sky. A house—no, more like a cabin, but massive. Two stories of what looks like timber and stone, surrounded by nothing but wilderness.
Enzo kills the engine and the sudden silence feels heavy.
He exits the vehicle and walks around to my side. When he opens my door, I remain frozen in place, seatbelt still fastened across my chest.
"Sienna." His voice has that edge of authority that makes my skin crawl. "We're here. Let's go inside."
I stare at Enzo's extended hand, bile rising in my throat. My mind whirls with panic as another voice, another time, echoes through my memory.
"Let's go inside."
The words punch through me, and suddenly I'm not in Enzo's car anymore.
I'm sixteen again, standing in the foyer of Mr. Edwards' beach house. Father had sent me to "entertain" his business associate. Α man three times my age with breath that smelled of cigars and whiskey. His meaty hand closed around my wrist, pulling me toward the stairs.
"Let's go inside, shall we?" His voice had been syrupy, practiced. "I've had a suite prepared just for us."
I remember how my feet had felt cemented to the floor, how my breath caught when his grip tightened enough to bruise.
That night, I learned exactly what Father's business associates expected from their "entertainment." I spent the next morning covering bruises with makeup, my body aching in places I didn't know could hurt.
"Sienna!"
I blink, snapping back to reality. Enzo stands by the open car door, his expression unreadable in the darkness. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I realize I'm hyperventilating.
I shake my head slightly, fingers gripping the seatbeneath me. Inside means trapped. Inside means alone with him.
Enzo exhales slowly, leaning against the doorframe. "I can't leave you out here all night."
My eyes dart from him to the dark forest beyond. There's nowhere to run. Nothing but miles of wilderness I'd never survive.
"Don't make me carry you again," he warns, but there's something almost playful in his tone now. "Though I get the feeling you must have enjoyed it last time, since you're trying to make it happen again."
Heat rushes to my cheeks at his teasing, anger pushing through my fear. "I didn't—" The words catch in my throat, my voice rusty from disuse.
His mouth quirks up at the corner, satisfaction clear on his face at getting me to speak. "She talks. Progress."
I glare at him, hating how easily he maneuvers me into reactions.
"So what's it going to be, piccola? Your own two feet or thrown over my shoulder again?"
I press further back into my seat, arms crossed, letting my silence speak for me. I won't walk willingly into another prison, no matter how beautiful it might be.
Enzo watches me for a long moment, eyes darkening with what might be amusement.
"Stubborn," he murmurs.
Before I can react, he leans in, one arm sliding behind my back, the other beneath my knees. My body goes rigid as he unbuckles my seatbelt with practiced ease.
