Page 28 of Play With Me
I’m taking the alley between the roads. The cab took the wrong turn.
It feels like I’m a teenager again, letting Mami know exactly where I’m going so she can keep tabs on me. It’s sort of nostalgic, but the feeling only fills me for a moment before a sense of dread creeps along my bones.
The sound of footsteps behind me echoes throughout the damp, dark pathway. Usually, I wouldn’t think anything of it. But since there’s someone out there who keeps threatening my life, I realize this probably wasn’t the smartest idea.
Picking up my pace, I raise my phone to call Martin and Nikolai when a text from them comes through.
Do NOT walk the alleyway alone. Wait for us. We’ll come get you.
Too late.
I silently curse the delayed text messages, knowing it’s too late to wait now. Peeking behind me, I see a large figure shrouded in the shadows.Their clothes are dark, making it easier for them to blend into the darkness of the alley, and with the hood pulled over their head, it's hard to make out any distinguishing features.
My Jimmy Choos pinch my feet as I break out in a jog, not caring about the dirty water that splashes up on my light pink suit. I’m almost halfway through the alley as I pick up my pace, focusing on the people walking along the street ahead.
Whoever is behind me breaks into a run, their footsteps pounding through the puddles as they race to catch up. I try to scream for help, but my voice is paralyzed with fear. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, acidic as it burns its way through my system, ordering my body to keep going—keeping one foot in front of the other and my reflexes alert, so I don’t trip in my heels.
Just as I think I’m about to get away, I feel a fist wrap in my hair and drag me down. I struggle against the hands that pin me to the ground, and a heavy weight settles on my legs like someone is sitting on them.
“Let me go!” I finally manage to scream. It’s weak, and I doubt anyone from the street can hear.
The person chuckles. It’s a weird sound. And when they speak, it’s distorted, as though they are using some type of voice changer. “You can struggle all you want, Carmela. You’ll never get away.”
Their words don’t stop me from trying. I writhebeneath their weight, bucking my hips to try and throw them off me. Finally, my voice grows stronger and I scream as loud as I can, hoping to alert anyone passing by. It’s cut short by a fist knocking into my left cheek so hard it snaps my head to the side—the gritty gravel kissing the right side of my face as it meets the wet pavement.
“Shut your fucking mouth, you whore!” They grab my jaw, pinching the sides of my face together painfully as they force me to look up at them. My vision is fuzzy from the force of their hit, but I can make out the ski mask the person is wearing beneath the hood. The only thing visible is a pair of unfamiliar dark brown eyes.
“Leave the city! If you don’t, there will be consequences, do you hear me?” Their words register, but my only thought is getting away, so I scream again, earning me another smack to my face. I’m positive I’m going to leave this alleyway with a nasty black eye, but if all I get from this encounter is a bruise and a vague warning, I’ll take it.
My face throbs. The weight of the person lifts off me as they repeat themselves. “If you don’t leave the city, the consequences will be a lot more severe than this. You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.”
A sharp, stinging pain takes my breath away as my assailant kicks me in the stomach. Not once or twice, but three times before I hear the angry shoutsof Martin and Nikolai, followed by the pounding of their approaching footsteps.
“Next time, it will be worse,” the distorted voice warns before retreating hastily.
I want to throw up as I curl into the fetal position to try and dull the pain. I’m positive I heard one of my ribs crack during the attack. The pain is severe as I try to breathe, only managing shallow intakes of air.
A pair of footsteps rushes past me as one of the guys goes after my attacker, and one stops next to me. Nikolai’s voice is soothing as his warm hands attempt to roll me onto my back. “You’re okay. We got you. You’re okay.”
My head rolls back as he lifts me in his arms. Balancing my weight on his knee, he gently maneuvers my head so it’s resting on his chest before he stands. Both sides of my face feel swollen, but it’s still nothing compared to the pain in my lower chest and stomach.
“Call Brooks. Have him meet us at the nearest hospital,” Nikolai instructs, and I can only assume Martin has come back.
“Hey there, stay awake for me, okay?” There’s mumbling, and then we’re moving. I fight to stay conscious, but the pain is too much. I’ve always prided myself on having a high pain tolerance, so I feel like a wimp right now, but holy shit those few hits and kicks really took me out.
“...New York-Presbyterian.” Someone’s voice is muffled, sounding further away with every word.
“Carmela. Carmela, stay awake.”
Sleep sounds better and better, though. I don’t want to stay awake. Cuddling further into Nikolai’s chest, I close my eyes.
A few moments of rest won’t hurt.
Anders
Mick glares at me from across the table in the same room where we met. I can tell he’s not happy about being summoned to answer questions—treated as though he’s a suspect himself. But we haven’t had time to talk, just him and me.
And I have questions.