know what to say first, or if I should say anything at all.
I know his face, he gave me a name, I’m here…. I know what those things mean. He’s going to kill me.
He takes a step forward and the sun catches his eyes making them so bright they look like vivid blue lights against his olive skin.
One more step and I feel myself step backward. Another step and I move two more steps backward, not knowing where I’m going, or what I’m doing.
“There’s nowhere to run Isabella,” he states.
“Where am I?” I breathe. My voice sounds hoarse and so shaky I barely recognize it as mine.
“On an island that very few know about,” he answers.
At first, I think that’s impossible but I right myself, my mind. This man is the same type as my father and if he says we’re on an island that very few know about, it’s true.
“Who are you?” I want to know who he really is. I want to know the power of my captor.
“My name is Tristan D’Agostino. That might not mean anything to you, but this will… my family is part of the Syndicate of the Brotherhood.”
He’s right about half of that. I’ve heard the name D’Agostino before and I know about the Syndicate. I know they are enemies to my father, who is the enemy to all.
I really am in big trouble and it’s my fault. I asked Sacha to let me out.
Sacha, my God … as I think of him now, I remember the consequences he could face. They’d all know by now I’m missing. He’ll know I was taken.
Even if the others think I escaped, he won’t think that. He’ll know I won’t have betrayed him in such a way. It will only be a matter of time before blame is cast his way if it hasn’t been already.
“Why did you take me?” The words tumble from my lips as foolishness, but I need to know what the position is. “I can’t be here. Please, send me back. My bodyguard will die if my father finds out I’m missing.”
“I’m glad you know that, so I don’t have to highlight the gravity of the situation to you. I need you to tell me where your father is,” he demands, and I could almost laugh.
It wouldn’t be a laugh of humor, oh no. It would be one of sarcasm.
I shake my head at him, and a tear runs down my cheek because it’s now I know I really am in trouble.
“I don’t know where he is,” I answer.
His eyes flare with rage. “Isabella, I’m not the kind of man to fuck with. Not even slightly. I hate games, and I hate wasting time with shit. You are his daughter; you’re supposed to know where the fuck your father is.”
“But I don’t. I don’t know. No one does.” That’s the truth and that is how my father has managed to walk like some type of god on earth for the last forty years.
Dmitri is his righthand man, before him was Vlad, a man who was actually worse than Dmitri because he was psychotic.
My father has six people who travel with him as bodyguards and they look like they came straight out of hell. All they do is guard. Their tongues have been sliced out of their mouths in a vow to silence. Their only purpose in life is to protect my father if danger comes.
That is the extent of my knowledge.
“Do you really expect me to believe that no one knows where he is?” Tristan challenges. His teeth are bared and his hands fisted at his sides.
“I don’t care if you believe it. It’s the truth.”
“Stop lying!” he shouts, and his voice reverberates through me making me shudder.
“I’m not lying,” I wince. “That’s how he stays safe. No one knows about me too, at least they shouldn’t.”
“You’re telling me you don’t see him at all?” He gives me an incredulous glare.
“We never meet in the same place and the majority of our meetings are by video calls. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know anything.”
“I’m supposed to believe that shit from Mortimer Viggo’s daughter?” He rages and comes closer.
Adrenaline races through me and I do the only thing I can and run.
I run to the door, grab the handle, and yank it open. I manage to get out on to the corridor, another stony path. I’m about to break out into a sprint when a large hand secures around my middle