Page 48 of His Queen

I’m trying to stay calm, to think rationally. But panic is escalating with each passing second. I force myself to sit up on what feels like a mattress beneath me. My mind is racing with all the terrible things that could happen to me in this situation, and I’m barely able to breathe.

Suddenly, a low rumbling laugh resounds from somewhere close by, making me jump and scream out loud before quickly covering my mouth with both hands.

“Mirabella Del Rossa,” a voice whispers close by in response.

“Who are you? Where are my clothes?” The words escape on an unsteady exhale past my trembling lips.

A chuckle—deep and throaty—echoes through what must be some kind of cellar or basement space where I’m currently being held captive.

“Dear, little Hummingbird,” says the same silky voice. “That’s what he calls you, isn’t it? His Hummingbird.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, the saltiness of my tears exploding on my tongue.

“Fine.” A flame cuts through the darkness, and I see the glowing embers of a cigarette being lit. The flame disappears, and the burning tobacco brightens with fiery orange before dimming to a simmer. “Let’s call you birdie, then.”

I try to claw at something, a blanket or a sheet, anything I can cover myself with, but there’s nothing. “I need my clothes. Give me back my clothes,” I demand.

The figure steps into my line of vision, and I can make out a dark silhouette with broad shoulders. He takes a drag on the cigarette before exhaling smoke in long tendrils that curl around his head like serpents.

There’s a loud thump, and I’m suddenly blinded by harsh lights bursting through the darkness. I cover my eyes, shying away from the light, then blink rapidly, a slicing pain spreading through my skull. But as my vision starts to adjust, the figure in front of me becomes clearer, and with it comes a chilling recognition.

“Nunzio,” I whisper, my stomach instantly filled with concrete.

He steps forward, shadows dancing across his features. “I see you still remember me,” he says in a steady voice, but there’s a vicious ring that grazes over my flesh.

“How could I forget?” I spit out bitterly, pulling my knees up, trying my best to hide every inch of flesh from his eyes. A man stands a few feet behind him, covering the closed door, a gun holstered on his one side, a large knife on the other.

“Well, I’m certainly glad to know I made an impression,” Nunzio says.

“It’s not a good one, I assure you.”

“All that matters is that you remember me.”

“Give me my clothes.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His leering gaze drops to where my arms cross to cover my breasts, then sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “See, you’re a feisty one, and I need your cooperation, which means I need to weaken that confidence of yours, hence why you’re naked.”

“Did you touch me?”

A smirk tugs at the ends of his lips. “Not yet.”

“What do you want from me?”

He shrugs, his shoulders moving beneath his thick black trench coat. “It’s not so much about what I want with you—although I can certainly think of something.”

“Screw you.”

“Now, that’s an entertaining thought.” If his tone were a living-breathing thing, it would have scales and a split tongue.

I shudder at the thinly veiled threat in his voice. “If you lay a hand on me—”

“You’ll what?” He moves closer, his demeanor threatening. “You’ll fight me? You’ll kill me?”

I press my back flush against the wall, shivering from the cold, pressing my heels deeper into the old, dirty mattress.

“You’ll get your husband to kill me the way he killed my cousin?”

“Felix tried to rape me.”

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