Run.

That was the only word that showed in your head the second that you managed to go to the bathroom without one of his men coming to watch you.

Slip out of the narrow window, into the dumpster, down the alley.

Quick, efficient.

You sprinted down the red street of Sicily, ignoring the crowds outside of bars and strip clubs, your bare feet beginning to bleed. Suddenly, the roar of Massimo’s car could be heard in the distance, approaching your location.

With a sharp turn, you went down an alleyway and through the door leading into one of the clubs. Your head began to pound from the loud music, flashes of light darting across your eyes, bare women twirling around.

You tried to squeeze through the crowd quickly, but there wasn’t any room to move.

Just as you were a few people away from the bouncer’s, a large hand covered your mouth, engulfing the majority of the bottom half of your face. His other arm wrapped around your stomach, pulling you from your feet.

“You shouldn’t of run.” Massimo’s voice spoke into your ear, calm but full of anger, as he half dragged and half carried you towards the side exit. There was a car waiting out in the alleyway, his men standing tall by the door so you would be surrounded if you tried to escape again.