Reina de la Muerte

chapter twenty eight

vanessa

Pain shoots through the left side of my head in a harsh throb. I turn onto my side and open my eyes to take in my surroundings, but a white light blinds me and forces them back shut.

How long have I been out? Have I slept through the meeting?

After reopening my eyes and allowing them to adjust, I sit up and inspect my surroundings.

The room is windowless, each wall built out of layers of concrete with a single metal door in it. The floor is a chilling, cracked stone brick and a leaking ceiling that occasionally dripped on my forehead. When I go to rub a drop of water from it, my wrists are tugged in by tight, cold metal cuffs around my wrists. I was pulled back down by its chains and winced at the bite in my skin.

What the hell is going on?

I tried to recall what happened prior to waking up and came up with nothing. The thought of what could have happened makes my stomach churn.

Before I can spiral out of control with thoughts, the large door opens with a deafening creak. My stomach completely drops when in walks Silvio, dressed in an outfit I'd never imagine him to wear—dark, loose jeans; a casual, white tank top; and a black sleeve going up his left arm and shoulder. What's more distinctive about this new look is that the chestnut brown hair I've seen him with for nearly a decade is now an onyx hue. I can barely see it through the dim light hanging above us.

"You're awake. Good," he says as he closes the door, leaning against it. "I was beginning to think I gave you too much."

Enough? "Where am I, Silvio?" I demand, pulling at the chains. "Where's Gabriel? And Vincenzo?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Across an ocean. They suspect you to be in Spain from Javier's anonymous tip to that hacker. Carter, I believe."

Javier? Spain?

Maybe whatever he's injected me with is still making my head because I can't keep up with anything he's saying.

Silvio—if that's even his name—takes a seat on the stone floor, sitting cross-legged and watching me. His head cocks to the side.

"I gave you enough that you'd be knocked out," he explains, answering my thoughts, "but not enough to do any serious harm."

"What are you talking about?" I mutter, holding my throbbing head in my hands. "Where the fuck am I, Silvio?"

He sighs and leans back on his hands. "Tino."

I give him a blank stare. I'm not going to bother pushing for answers. He must realize because he heaves a sigh and straightens his neck out. "My real name is Valentino; Silvio was a cover-up. I'm sure you have a lot of questions about anything I'm talking about—a symptom when coming off of the drug—but you'll get them soon enough."

Valentino...?

What the fuck is going on?

"What about—"

"Your infant will be fine," he says with another sigh. "And just so you know, I haven't told anyone else about it. I may despise that Díaz bastard but I know better than to do more harm than I've already done, especially to his family. I can only imagine what he must be scheming against me since we left."