Riding The Edge - Elise Faber Page 0,30

the stone-covered floor. Bruises and eyes swollen shut.

And I’d still always crawled my way to this wall, this rock.

There was a reason I’d begun working at this particular stone—yes, it stuck out of the wall, but it was also low to the ground. Oftentimes, I’d not been able to do much more than lie down.

And scratch.

And chip away at the old mortar, the dirt and dust that sealed that rock in place.

Until it had finally given way.

Until I’d seen the sliver of the Mediterranean Sea and promised myself that once I escaped, I would never be back in this cell.

“Well, here I am,” I whispered. “Back in this fucking nightmare.” Even as the one person I’d never wanted tangled up with my family was right in the fucking web and probably being tortured right at this instant.

The hot tear sliding down my cheek surprised me.

Then it pissed me off, made me scratch faster.

Tears didn’t help. Not now, not ever.

Instead, I continued doing the single thing that might very well mean the difference between us surviving this place and us dying in the fucking dark.

I scratched until my fingers bled.

Fifteen

Southern Italy

Unknown hrs local time

Dan

The punch to my ribs took my breath away, sending red-hot pain radiating through me.

Not cracked.

But damn well bruised.

“Tell me,” the man I recognized from the elevator demanded. Not one of the goons, though they were lined up like three little ducks against the far wall. Instead, it was Ava’s uncle, Fabio, who was speaking, and he wasn’t pretending to be charming at the moment, wasn’t discussing romance or honeymoons. Rather, he tossed a heavy set of brass knuckles that had just become familiar with my ribs down onto a scarred wooden table.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I said once the pain faded.

“What do you know?” he growled.

“I know a lot of things,” I said, already bracing myself for the hurt that was about to come my way. “Like the amount of product in your hair is actually flammable.”

The blow across my cheek was expected, splitting my lip, coating my tongue in blood.

The smartass remark was certainly unnecessary, but I’d gone through counter-torture training, had been in a handful of “fun” occasions like this, and in my experience, the best way for me to get out of these situations alive was to keep the snark flowing.

They certainly wouldn’t keep me alive if I just gave them what they wanted.

And they definitely wouldn’t stop the pain just because I told them the truth.

I was fucked unless KTS could get us out, and my only goal at this moment had to be keeping me and Ava alive until the calvary arrived.

Fingers gripped my hair harshly, yanked my head back until I was forced to meet angry brown eyes that were nearly identical to Ava’s. Except, the woman I loved had speckles of gold and green in her irises, flashes of color that were brought out depending on the light of the room, the clothes she was wearing.

“What do you know about the shipments?” Fabio gritted, fingers tightening.

“Did your truckload of lingerie go missing?” I shrugged. “Perhaps it was hijacked somewhere along the way?”

Another blow.

More blood on my tongue.

“What did KTS see?”

My lips curved up. “Everything.”

The grip on my hair disappeared, but the relief was only there for a second. Because Fabio stepped back, inclined his head at one of the men on the wall, a giant hulking fucker who stepped forward all too gleefully.

He cracked his knuckles as Fabio headed to the door, saying something sharp in Italian.

The only words I recognized were Ava and cell.

And that made ice fill my veins, worry for Ava blustering forward. Would they take her next? Were they going to her right now?

But before I could open my mouth, say something to delay Fabio from leaving, the hulking fucker closed the distance between us and punched me right in the stomach, stealing my breath, stoppering up the words.

Stopping me from speaking.

Then the door was closed, and Fabio was gone and—

The fists kept coming.

Sixteen

Southern Italy

Unknown hrs local time

Ava

The first sliver of light had my hand dropping to my side, my aching fingers flexing, and my breathing evening out.

Just a bit more and—

Footsteps.

Carefully sitting up, the action causing the wound on my side to pull painfully, I covered that tiny opening and focused my gaze on the door.

It wrenched open, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to be blinded, even as the light flared behind my lids. I carefully slit them open, saw the