Page 39 of Dragon Touched
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.
Once she reached the threshold, she clawed at the doorframe. “Margaret, please get him to the hospital, and tell him—”
From behind, Matteo gripped her wrist and yanked it free, ripping one of her fingernails to the quick.
“Let go of me, asshole. You have no right to treat me like this.”
Margaret stepped out of the tower and followed the men dragging Sacha over the small gravel pathway. Her wrinkled face was red, and she narrowed her gray gaze on the men.
“Tell him I have no regrets.” Desperation forced the words from her mouth. “I hope the little rat somehow helped him get back home.” Tears made the older woman’s image blur. “And tell him, I-I’m sorry I stole his ring.”
“Enough.” Her father stopped. “Grab her.”
The bodyguard dragged her to her feet, scraping her bare toes across the rock path.
“Stop.” She winced.
The towel slid down her body.
“Have you no shame.” Vito clenched it in his fist. “Cover up.”
“Let me go.” She was hoisted off the ground and tossed over the bodyguard’s shoulder.
At a black SUV, Sacha fought against the men, but they were too experienced and kept countering every jab of her limbs and clench of her fingers.
Her blood ran cold when she thought about how efficient they were at this.
How many times have they done this to people?
Faceless victims swam in her mind. Who knew the untold numbers of those hurt and killed over the years in the name of her family?
“Get in, Sacha,” her father roared. “I will not tell you again. You’re only making things worse.”
She gripped the edges of the car’s frame. The warm blood seeping from the torn nail made the rubberized seal slippery.
Matteo tried to peel her fingers from the surface, but she kicked his balls.
“Oof.” Bent at the waist, his hands let go to cup his crotch.
Hope flared within her chest.
Maybe I can still get out of this.
From behind, strong arms wrapped around her midsection and dragged her into the backseat.
“Stop it.” Her father’s cigar smell greeted her nose. “Unless you want that old lady shot, too.”
His words made her blood freeze, and she relaxed. “Ihateyou.”
“Matteo.” Her father let go, slid across the seat, and stood outside. “If she tries to leave, shoot the old hag in the head. Then, finish off Scarface.”
Sacha’s teeth ground from side to side. She wanted to scream,he’s worth more than both of you combined, but she kept quiet. Her words could drive her father to a rage, which might push him to go ahead and kill both Margaret and Fin for the fun of it.
Instead, she bit her tongue and rolled the blood around in her mouth. She wouldn’t put them in any more danger.
“No need, Pops. I’ll be”—she tried not to choke on the word—“good. Just take me home.”
Vito walked to the passenger’s seat and settled his bulk inside.
