All day, I’m off-kilter, emotionally. Frankie notices it immediately in the car when I fail to laugh at his jokes, which usually have me smiling and cackling along with him. But the whole ride I’m a moment behind, silent when I should be laughing, staring off into space when I should be paying atten

When they whip my hood off, I’m panting in my fear. My eyes go wide as I look around at the men standing around me, and I sniff hard against the blood that’s still trickling from my nose – courtesy of being tossed around in a trunk for thirty minutes with my hands cuffed around my back, which means

I tell them what I can in between strikes to my face, my arms, my body – offering the information freely, letting it stumble from my lips. I let them know that Romano does indeed have the information – that if there’s anything in Steven’s notebook about their finances, that Romano’s studying it for

I don’t know how long I’m in the cooler, not really. I cried for hours, I know, and then somehow fell asleep – or went unconscious. I don’t really know what the best word is for that state. Just…out. Not in the world anymore. But I’m ripped back into it the moment I hear the jangling of my padlock

I don’t even bother to close the door behind me, because Christian’s already in his seat, already hitting the gas. I just scream and duck my head down as low as I can, and the movement of the car peeling away from the house slamming my door behind me. But…we drive. Which mean’s Christian’s alive,