Page 57 of Rosetti Family New York
The warehouse is a hunk of rusted metal, crouched on the docks, smelling of gasoline and salt. The doors are closed, but I know they’re watching. I know this is it. No backing out. My palms are slick, my pulse too loud. The wind picks up, tangling my hair as I stand in the open, exposed. They could do anything. No one would hear, and no one would care. I’m already caught.
Juliet’s face rushes through my mind, and I push it away. Push everything away but the sound of my shoes on the pavement. Each step feels heavy, like it could be my last, like this is a mistake and I should turn back now, while I still have the chance.
A man steps out of the shadows, and I keep going, keep moving, until I’m standing right in front of him.
“Right on time,” he says, looking me up and down.
He is lean and mean, a wolf in designer jeans. The kind of predator who toys with his prey before going in for the kill. Careful, calculated, vicious. He stares at me, enjoying my fear. His dark eyes shine with amusement as he waits for me to crack.
He calls behind him, a sharp command.
My breath catches. Juliet is stumbling forward, pushed by another man. My heart lurches. She’s real and alive. She’s shaking, her wrists raw and angry, her eyes wide with terror. They find mine, locking on, holding on, and I want to scream that it’ll be okay, that I’ve got this under control, that I didn’t just ruin everything by walking through those doors.
“Ellie,” she starts, her voice trembling, her whole body trembling, and it takes everything I have not to crumble.
I can’t let her break me. I can’t let them see it. “It’s okay,” I say. The lie is so big I almost choke on it. I lift my chin, trying to sound sure. “Let her go.”
The man smirks at me, like I’m some shiny new toy he can’t wait to unwrap. “You heard her,” he says to the other man.
This one is older, harder. His eyes are black as bullets. He’s the one who gives the orders. He looks at me, then at Juliet, then he jerks his head. “Go,” he says, bored.
Juliet shakes her head. “No,” she says, “no, I’m not leaving you.” Tears are in her eyes, making them bright and wild and impossibly huge in her pale, terrified face. She looks so young. Too young to be here, too young to have any part in this.
“Do it,” the man growls, a warning in his voice. The kind that says he won’t say it again.
I rush forward, hands on my sister's shoulders. My grip is hard, and she flinches. I’m sorry, I want to tell her. I love you, I want to say. I did this for you, and I hope you know, I hope you understand. I say none of it. “You have to go,” I tell her, low and firm. “Get out of here. Find Leonardo. He’ll fix this.”
“Ellie—” Her voice cracks, and she looks at me with a desperation I can’t take. My eyes burn, but I don’t let the tears fall. I am cold. I am unbreakable. I am a Rosetti now.
The man behind her gives her a shove. She stumbles toward the exit, turning and reaching back to me for a moment, then she is gone.
The door slams shut behind her with a clang that shakes the walls. My heart is the only sound.
The man looks at me like I’m an insect he could crush. I look back like he’s not terrifying. “What now?” I ask, when I can finally breathe, when the silence gets too big.
He smiles, but there’s no humor in it. Only teeth. “Now?” he says, stepping closer. “Now you belong to us.”
There’s another man behind him, then another. I’m surrounded, but I keep my back straight, keep my head high. They’re bigger than me, stronger, but they have no idea what they’ve taken on. I’ve been traded like this before. At least this time, it was my choice. At least this time, I know what I’m getting into.
“Brave, coming here,” he muses, grabbing my chin, tilting my face up so I have to meet his eyes. “Or fucking stupid.”
Leonardo's phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration a shock. He reaches for it, but I move faster. Snake-quick. I press the answer button and yell into the line. “I’m at the docks. A warehouse. Hurry.” I don’t know if they hear. The man slams it out of my hand, and it falls to the ground, the sound tinnyas a recorded message plays from the speaker inviting me to complete a survey.
I’ve done it. I’ve really done it. There’s no Leonardo sweeping in to save me at the last minute. I’ve achieved nothing but making this Albanian angry.
“Tie her up,” he snaps.
Hands grab me, bruising my arms, twisting ropes around my wrists until I can’t feel anything but the blood pounding in my veins. My pulse is too loud. My breath is too fast. I focus on the one thing that matters.
Juliet is safe.
They push me to the floor, hard, and I hit my knees. Pain blossoms, dull and warm, and my world shrinks down to that. Pain and dark and fear. But I don’t cry out. I don’t let them have that. I stay silent, breathing, and breathing, and breathing.
The man crouches in front of me. “What did you think would happen?” he asks. I taste blood on my lip.
“Exactly this,” I say, letting it drip, letting it show.
He pats my cheek, and the sting spreads across my face. “You should have stayed away.”
