Page 85 of Savage Roses
A difficult breath stalls in my lungs. I can hardly bear it. I bow my head, drawing my legs up to my chest, and wrap my arms around my knees. How much longer can I withstand this?
They’re leaving me no choice. They’re forcing me to go against them. I will if I have to…
Dawn trickles into the room a couple hours later. I’m still awake. I’ve moved from the bed to the windowsill—tightly secured by a range of locks—and I stare out at the scene outside.
The locks on the window are just another obstacle impeding my escape. I’ll figure something out.
“Miss ADA,” Stitches says, tapping on the door. “You awake yet?”
“Yes.”
The door cracks open. The first thing visible is Stitches’s long, skinny nose and the wiry frames of his glasses. “Breakfast? Coffee?”
“No thank you.”
“You need to eat.”
“I ate last night.”
“Three bites of dinner ain’t exactly eating.”
“Stitches, you might be overseeing this safe house, but you don’t oversee what and when I eat.”
He frowns. “Sorry, Miss ADA. I’ll set out a plate for you in case you change your mind.”
Mild guilt flutters through me the second the door snicks shut. The more days go by trapped inside in this villa, the more short and rude I become with Stitches. It’s nothing personal against him—it’s against what he represents within these four walls.
He’s carrying out an order that’s preventing me from seeing Salvatore.
Good as his intentions may be, at a time when I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, it feels heartless and cruel.
I could’ve said goodbye to the love of my life,my husband, and not even have known it. I yawned and dozed off, thinking we’d wake in the morning with sleepy smiles, in each other’s arms…
My heart clenches, tears glossing my eyes.
I can’t live like this. Holed up in this safe house, trapped within these four walls, kept out of whatever it is that’s going on. All while I’m plagued by deep, unsettling premonitions that Salvatore’s in grave danger; he’s insevere pain.
The images that flash through my mind are too morbid. I jump up from the windowsill and rush out of the room.
It’s the official cue I’ve been alone with my thoughts for too long. I’ll take Stitches up on breakfast, even if it’s begrudgingly.
His voice and Fabio’s echo from the kitchen. I’m halfway down the hall when I slow down, choosing to eavesdrop.
“We haven’t heard from them in over two days. Something’s up.”
“Last update was that they were close to getting their hands on it. They could be busy making final arrangements.”
“Nah, they’ve kept us in the loop. He’d make time to call. He was calling multiple times before. Just to check on her and everything else.”
I have to clap my hands over my mouth to stifle my gasping breath.
So Salvatorehasbeen in touch—he’s been calling in often it sounds like. He wouldn’t go no contact without warning. If he’s stopped reaching out, there’s a reason.
This, more than anything else, shoves me over the edge. The final devastating blow that he’s been in touch and now has truly disappeared, wrecks me. Abject pain that deals the hardest, cruelest squeeze to my heart yet and causes it to burst.
I’m shaking as I spin on my heel and rush down the hall, suddenly in a trance-like state, running fast up the stairs, several at a time. I’m so out of it, it’s lost on me that I’ve alerted Stitches to the fact that I’m about to leave the villa.
But it doesn’t even matter. I’m leaving right now.