Maia Mesa grew up with her family in Cuba, but that suddenly changed, and she found herself in a position no one wishes to be, without family.
Marcus Burnett, a repentant and good soul takes her as his own daughter, as well his wife Theresa, a new...
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I open my eyes, disoriented, my body aching with every movement. Pain shoots through me as I try to shift, realizing I'm bound to a beam. My wrists throb where the rope digs into my skin, and the cold, damp air only amplifies the discomfort.
"Maia?" A voice breaks through the fog in my mind. Christine's voice, strained and fearful. "Maia, are you okay?"
I turn my head as much as I can. "Are you?" I ask, my voice raspy as I take in her almost perfect appearance, some dried tears on her cheeks, but she was fine, unharmed.
She nods weakly, but her eyes are full of worry. "She's bleeding," Christine murmurs, her gaze shifting to a woman standing nearby, a gun in her hand. "She needs medical attention."
The woman barely acknowledges Christine's plea, her eyes fixed on something beyond us, as if we're not worth her attention.
I wince as I try to move again. "Where are we?" I ask, forcing myself to focus past the pain in my thigh.
At least somehow the bleeding stopped itself, only some drops come out from the wound. But that doesn't make me feel better, because the floor is witness of my wound, there is a small pool of blood around me. I look away trying to not think about it.
The place is dimly lit, dirty, and reeks of neglect, with eerie figures of wild animals scattered around—mostly alligators in various sizes, their once-vibrant colors now faded and peeling.
Christine follows my gaze, her voice low. "It's like an old amusement park or something."
I scan the floor, my mind racing. The place is a mess, debris scattered across the floor. For a fleeting moment, I consider the possibility of using something to cut us free, but from this position, it's impossible.
"How long have we been here?" I ask.
She shrugs helplessly. "I don't know... Six hours, maybe?"
I feel a jolt of shock. "Six hours? I've been knocked out for six hours?"
Christine gives me a look of pity, but that only deepens my worry.
Six
Fucking.
Hours.
Anything could have happened in that time.
My thoughts spiral—Is my family okay?
After I left, Reggie was gearing up for a fight.
Are they all safe? Is my sister okay?
I lean against the beam, letting out a shaky breath, when something sharp digs into my back.
