Chapter 101 Red Alert
❦ Rosalind ❦
I staggered on the pavement, walking under dim streetlights along the outskirts of New York.
They flickered like they were mocking me, buzzing faintly and casting everything in a sickly yellow haze.
The skyline glittered ahead of me like a mirage. All I had to do was reach it. If I could just get close enough to the crowd, I’d disappear inside it and nothing, no man, could drag me back.
I didn’t ask anyone for help. I didn’t even look at the faces I passed. I felt like a ghost, and ghosts didn’t beg.
My joggers were damp, filthy, and clung to me, chafing against my skin. My hair stuck to my temples. The flash drive dug into my palm like a blade but I didn’t loosen my grip. If I let go, it was over. I’d have suffered for nothing.
My chest burned from holding my breath. Not because I was running, but because I was holding myself in, holding in a scream down until it burned the back of my throat.
Only when I stumbled onto a wide, busy street with bright shops, car horns, and people's voices, did I finally let out a shaky breath that came out almost like a sob. Relief.
I spotted a telephone booth on the corner, red paint peeling off the frame. It was ridiculous that it felt safer than the people walking by.
I yanked the door open and stepped inside, pressing my back to the glass for a beat before forcing myself to move.
I dialed Viktor’s number from memory. My fingers trembled so hard I nearly pressed the wrong one. He always had his phone on him. Always.
I pressed my forehead against the glass and closed my eyes, the phone ringing and ringing in my ear. It went to the end without an answer.
My throat tightened.
I hung up, dialed again. Twice. Thrice. Nothing.
Tears welled in my eyes, and anger rose with it.
Even if he was furious with me, even if I’d crossed some invisible line, he should have noticed by now. He should have noticed my absence like a missing limb. He should have been waiting for my call, for any call.
I bit back a curse but it came out anyway. He’d done this before. Gone whole days without calling or replying to my messages. Like I was background noise he could tune out.
My nails dug into my palm around the flash drive, my teeth gritted so hard my jaw ached.
I swore again under my breath, and dialed another number. Dante.
He picked up on the second ring.
At my choked out hello, his voice came through calm and even distracted.
“Rosalind? Where are you? Why are you calling from a public phone?”
I blinked at my warped reflection on the glass. My stomach turned. He didn’t even sound worried.
“Why…” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Why are you asking me that?”
The words I didn’t say were louder. Didn’t you notice?
Didn’t anyone care? I could have been dead hours ago, dumped in a river, and they wouldn’t have known until tomorrow, if at all.
Tears blurred my reflection. I pressed my forehead to the receiver, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
Dante’s voice turned darker and sharper. “Rosa? What’s wrong? Are you in danger? Where are you?”
The panic in his tone came too late.
I couldn’t speak. My chest hitched as I tried to breathe and swallow the sobs clawing up my throat.
“Are you hurt?…” His voice was rapid and urgent now that he could hear me crying.
“Of course I’m hurt,” I snapped, my throat raw. “You should’ve noticed without me calling, Dante. Pick me up right now.”
I rattled off the first street name my eyes caught through the glass. “Lexington Avenue. Between 115th and 116th. I’ll be right here.”
Before he could respond, I slammed the receiver down, the sound echoing in the booth. My hand shook on the phone, then I shoved the door open and stepped into the night.
A man who’d been waiting glared at me, muttering under his breath as I passed him. I ignored him.
I stopped just beyond the booth and pressed myself into the shadows of a closed shop. I could still see headlights if they came but I was hidden from the crowd.
My breath still trembled in my chest, as I replayed everything.
Once again, I’d been played.
I gave my heart to a man, thinking that maybe, stupidly, that a blank slate, memory loss, might make him different. But Viktor was still Viktor. Still an asshole. And tonight he proved it. He didn’t pick up. He didn’t even notice I was gone.
I was on my own.
The flash drive bit into my palm as I clenched it. Tears streamed hotly down my cheeks. I felt like a fool. Always opening my heart and letting myself get distracted at the first whisper of love. Love that was never real.
I laughed bitterly.
By all rights, my face should’ve been plastered on billboards, screaming from radios, search alerts blaring across the city.
Rosalind Marino. Marlow Heiress. Missing. Taken. In danger. The whole damn underworld should’ve been turning New York upside down for me.
Instead, here I was. Filthy clothes, damp hair, waiting by a phone booth like a beggar. Forgotten.
Oh how I’d fallen from grace.
I heard the car before I saw it. Dark, sleek, and humming like a predator. It gleamed under the streetlights. It slowed, then stopped right in front of me.
The door swung open and Dante jumped out, his expression twisting the moment his eyes landed on me.
“Merda,” he cursed, storming toward me. “Who did this? I swear to God, Rosa, I’ll kill them…”
I sighed and slapped his reaching hand away, heat burning under my skin. “Save it.” My voice was cold, my anger was aimed at him too now. He hadn’t even noticed. None of them had.
I limped past him without another word, straight toward the passenger side.
He called after me, frantically, “Wait…” He caught up and hurried to open the door, and I thought he was doing me a favor.
And that’s when I saw her.
Sabella.
She was perched in the passenger seat like a smug little queen, her dress was an atrocious strip of fabric covering where it didn’t need to and exposing everything else. Her black hair was sleek and glossy as always.
Her dark eyes brushed over me disdainfully, taking in my ruined clothes, my wet hair, my bruised face.
Her nose wrinkled. “Ew. What happened to you?”
Dante groaned and gripped the door so hard his knuckles whitened.
But it was too late.
My vision bled red.