Zurianne never imagined that saving her mother's life would cost her own freedom. Forced into an arranged marriage with Christopher Whyte the infamous Jamaican Don feared by many,she braces herself for a life of cold stares and ruthless commands. Bu...
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Sixteen hours. That's how long I had been locked in this suffocating room. Sixteen hours of replaying every moment, every wrong turn, wondering how the hell I let myself and my babies end up here.
The twins were still clueless, laughing, chasing each other across the cracked concrete floor as if this was just another strange game. Their little hands smacked the walls, their tiny feet tapped against the sagging old mattress in the corner. They had no idea. And maybe that was mercy.
I sat on the edge of the mattress, eyes fixed on the small window. Beyond it was nothing but endless green trees, bushes, the heavy shadows of the hills. No road. No sign of life. No way out.
The sound of the lock scraping made my stomach twist. The door creaked open, and three men stepped in, their voices sharp and fast in Spanish. I didn't understand every word, but I understood enough. The way they looked at me, the way one of them licked his lips, the way the other's hand slid down to his belt buckle.
My whole body went cold.
"No... no, please," I whispered, my voice trembling as I pulled the twins behind me. "Please... mi a beg you."
They laughed. One of them yanked at his zipper, another reached out toward me. My blood turned to fire.
I lashed out, shoving the first one back with all my strength. "Don't touch mi!" My nails dug deep into his face, leaving burning red trails across his cheek.
"¡Puta!" he spat, swinging at me, but I ducked, clawing at his arm, fighting like a cornered animal. My shirt ripped open under their hands, fabric tearing against my skin. My breath came in ragged gasps as I kicked, scratched, anything to keep them away.
The twins' laughter turned into wails very high, piercing cries that filled the room.
The men froze. Their eyes flicked toward the children huddled behind me, crying, confused. The youngest whimpered, clutching his brother.
Something shifted. One of the men cursed under his breath. Another spat on the floor. And just like that, they pulled back, muttering to each other in quick Spanish.
They left.
The door slammed shut, leaving me shaking, clutching the torn edges of my shirt against my chest, my back pressed to the cold wall. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.
But through the blur of my tears, my eyes dropped to my wrist.
My Apple Watch.
They hadn't even noticed.
My heart skipped. For hours, I had pressed it on and off, desperate, hoping it would connect through this godforsaken wilderness. Earlier, I thought the hills had killed the signal, but something must've shifted because the faint green pulse was there now, alive on the screen.
