Page 2 of Hostile Love
I should hate my sister for it too. But it’s not her fault.
Blanco makes the decisions in our family and his daughters obey.
Matheus, on the other hand, doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Not only is he Souza royalty, but he has three ruthless brothers looking out for him.
He could have turned Blanco’s offer down. Made another deal. Paid a million dollars. Threatened a war. Or he could have told Blanco he wantedme.
Clearly, the lure of secrets and power was his real weakness. Not his foolish ex-roommate, who should have known better than to fall for his charm.
The longer I pace and mull everything over, the harder it is to breathe. I need an escape plan. And not just for this place.
Outside, beyond the window, there’s a constant hum of trucks arriving and reversing to leave once their loads are removed.
I’d already rubbed a circle in the grimy glass and peered out into the daylight. Only there wasn’t much to see. Other than a few guys unloading boxes from the back of a trailer.
I’m wise enough to know there wouldn't be any point attracting their attention. They’re involved in whatever shit I’m eyeballs deep in.
The only person I can count on is me.
My chest tightens and the saliva in my mouth dries, making it tricky to swallow without my throat sticking. I run my hands through my hair and grip the roots tight to my skull, my frustration taking its toll.
I’ve suffered this set up before, which is why my pulse is pumping so damn hard I could vomit.
Except back then, I was stripped of my clothes and dignity. Today, though, I’m fully dressed in black utility pants and a long-sleeved top. Despite that, I’m still at the mercy of whoever took me.
The powerful thrum in my chest makes me feel uneasy. It’s making me wish I could rip the veins from my body and replace the weakness flowing through them with liquid steel.
But it doesn’t matter. Even though the wound on my side is still healing, I’d fight my way out of here and I won’t back down.
No fucking surrender.
I curl my fingers tighter and growl, the lonely echo of it hitting me hard. At least there’s natural light in here. I’m thankful for it.
My inhales and exhales sound breathy, so I purposefully slow them down to regain some measure of control.
I can do this. I will get out of here alive.
And when I do––I’m going to ignore the guy who took a piece of my heart before it finally stopped beating.
My obsession with Matheus won’t change the facts.
I’d have to stamp out my feelings for him.
Sofia is my family, and she needs me. It’s my duty to take care of her. Whereas Matheus is nothing more than a liar.
My internal rants come to an abrupt stop when the door flings inward. Two guys stroll inside, both similar in height, dressed in designer t-shirts and denim.
The one on the left sports a light scattering of hair on his youthful face and a contrasting shaved head, whereas the other guy holding a gun is tidier, more kempt.
He’s clean shaven and wears a baseball cap.
They must be the same age as Matheus, if not younger. Though age doesn't matter. Not when you're caught up in the criminal underworld.
These two were probably recruited straight out of college.
They’d easily shoot me dead for a cash reward and maybe bury me too, if they were paid extra.
The one wearing the cap steps closer, his gun pointed at me as he pulls out a phone from his jeans’ pocket.
