HIS

Chapter 46

"Did you hear what she just said?" I asked Domenico, my face etched with shock, sorrow, and pain.

"Every word, baby. What hit me hardest was when she talked about framing your dad for your mom's murder. We always suspected it was her, but did your dad ever know he was being set up? That's why your relationship with him never made sense to me. You should try talking to him once we're out of here," he says, as I lie beside him, staring up at the ceiling.

"I've got cleaning duty upstairs tomorrow," I say, turning to him with a wide grin.

"What's got you smiling like that?" he asks with a smirk, already aware of my intentions—and knowing full well I plan to make the most of every minute I spend upstairs.

"It'll give me a chance to scope the place out and figure out how many people are actually on the property," I say, still wearing a wide grin. "And judging by how long it took us to get here, I'd bet we're still in New York—or just outside it."

"Yeah, but while you're up there, be careful. The Spanish Mafia isn't known for treating women with respect. That's probably why she didn't grow up in it—but still, she clearly inherited the worst of it."

"I know, baby, but let me try the phone again," I say as I get up and return to the same spot I'd tried before. Still no signal. I kept at it for another fifteen minutes before finally giving up. These damn walls are just too thick.

"I'll give it another shot tomorrow when I'm out of this room. There's a good chance I'll get signal upstairs."

"Yeah, but you've got to be really careful—and make sure to wipe everything from the phone. Call logs, contacts, photos, videos, messages—anything that could reveal the owner at a glance," he says. I nod and do exactly as he instruct. Once I'm done, I lie back down beside him, gently draping one arm over his body.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, gazing into his eyes.

"Much better after getting a few hours of sleep on something solid. But my ribs feel like they're broken—I'm in constant pain. Lying on my side helps a bit, though. It's not my first time dealing with busted ribs, so don't worry too much about me," he says, flashing that smirk of his that could make anyone weak in the knees.

"I can't help but worry about you, but don't stress—we'll be out of here soon," I say, gently rubbing his cheek and locking eyes with him.

"Then we can go for your checkup—and hopefully find out what we're having," he says, grinning as I roll my eyes at his excitement over our little peanut. This man finds every excuse to rest his hand on my belly. There's no bump or curve showing yet, but I adore his enthusiasm and the love he already has for the tiny life we created.

"It's still a bit early—we've got a few more weeks to go," I say with a reassuring smile. A quiet calm settles between us, and within minutes, the exhaustion from everything we'd been through pulls us both into sleep.

The next day...

We were jolted awake the next morning—not gently, but with the door slamming hard against the wall. Though we had managed to get some sleep, it wasn't deep or restful. Honestly, who could truly rest in a place like this? By the time the door flew open, we were already awake, having quietly gone over our plan. The guard didn't bother with a greeting or even a gesture to signal I should get up. He just stood there, waiting. It was the same guy who'd brought us that sorry excuse for food yesterday.

I got up and followed him down a long corridor lined with other cells—ten in total, to be exact. The sight was unsettling. Why would they need to hold and torment that many people at once? Only heaven knows.