me away. Thank fuck I stayed calm. Four men. The odds are against us, but hopefully with the warning I managed to give Tommy, he'll have a chance.
They dumped me here like I was a bag of trash. Tossed me to the ground and went to stand behind their cars. Two black cars blend into the dark. But they're there, and if he's looking for something off, he should see them. They aren't in their cars. They're standing behind the one closest to me, with their weapons drawn and ready.
Jagged rocks dig into my knees as I move slightly across the ground. I'm moving slowly, so they don't notice. They aren't paying attention to me. One's smoking, and the other three are talking in hushed whispers. I can barely hear though, except for the occasional laughs. They're also going back and forth between Russian and English, so even when I can hear them, I'm not exactly sure what they're saying.
I'm not certain, but I think they want him to watch me die. As soon as he drives down and sees me tied here and struggling, that's when they'll do it. Shoot me until I fall lifeless on the ground. Although one keeps saying how he wants to see Tommy run to me as they shoot us both. The others don't. They don't want to kill him right away. They have questions that need to be answered.
I don't care what they're saying. I know their endgame is to have both of us dead. I'll most likely end up in the creek, and Tommy's corpse will be sent back as a message to the Valettis.
I'm not going to let either of those scenarios happen. I need to live; I have to survive this. And right now, there's only me. If I can get free, I can run. My eyes dart to the four men who are in plain view and holding guns. My heart beats rapidly in my chest. I'll have to wait until I have a chance, but I'll try. I can't fight back without having any weapons on me. That would be suicide. But I can give Tommy a warning, and I can run. That's my only hope.
There's a broken bottle only a foot from me. If I fall over, I should be able to snag a piece. There's only a single zip tie binding my wrists, and one more binding my ankles. I can do this. Ankles first, so I can run as soon as Tommy gets here.
I scoot my knees across the dirt and they scrape against the gravel. I ignore the pain. Just another inch and then I prepare myself for the fall. It's gonna fuck up my shoulder since I can't brace for it. But I can fucking take it. I crash against the ground and hit my shoulder. My head bounces from the impact. The men look over at me while I struggle to take a piece of glass in my hand. My fingers graze across a few small pieces, but they aren't large enough. The jagged chunks pierce through my shirt and cut into my skin. Again, it's not horrible, but fuck it hurts. The fucker smoking sets his eyes on me. He tosses his cigarette onto the dirt and walks over with quick strides.
His dark eyes stare into mine as my fingers finally find a large chunk. I'm quick to make a fist to conceal it, even though it digs into the palm of my hand. I can't risk him seeing it. It's my only chance at freeing myself.
My heart skips a beat as he grabs my shoulders and drags my body back to the shed. The glass and gravel scrape my legs and I try to cry out, but the gag mutes the screams.
“Stay!” he yells, pointing his finger at me like I'm a dog. It gets a laugh from the other men. His large hand grips my chin and then he smacks my face several times—not hard, just enough to demoralize me. “Bad bitch. Stay.” His accent is thick. I rest my head against the shed and pretend that I've lost all hope. I let the tears that beg to be released, slide down my cheeks. He laughs sickly and his foul breath fills my lungs as he turns to leave me, walking back to stand with the others. They're talking louder now, and in Russian.
As soon as I hear them patting him on the back and laughing, I push the