Minutes ticked into hours, and hours bled into days. I had been trapped in this room for what felt like forever.
There were no windows, and the only light that met my face was the one that came through the top bars of the metal door trapping me inside.
I sat on the floor in the corner of the room, my knees buried into my chest.
My stomach growled, desperate for its daily intake of nourishment. Yet I couldnât provide it with anything.
Besides a bottle of water every now and then, these people gave me nothing.
They were starving me. Feeding on my hunger so Iâd cave and give in to them, but I refused.
Anton had visited twice already, and each time, I had received two sessions with the stun gun and an âIâll be back again.â
It was odd.
I wasnât struck enough to cause serious damage, but the pain was quickly becoming unbearable. Especially in my weakened state.
It reminded me of the previous game, when I ached and wanted to give up but forced myself to keep going, to make it to the finish line.
Being alone in this room forced me to sort through my thoughts, and the more time that ticked by, the more I began to think that this was the third game.
It wouldnât make sense otherwise.
The Petrov family had no reason to go against the Roscottos. Theyâd been allies for years. Stefano had told me himself that Anton was reliable.
Even now, Anton never seemed to cross the line of no return whenever he entered my cell.
It was like he was protecting, though just barely, his best friendâs woman.
Was this really the third game?
And if so, what was the theme?
Loyalty? Or courage?
What did they hope Iâd accomplish?
Were they testing my loyalty to the Roscotto family by seeing if Iâd let anything slip? Anton had made numerous mentions to loyalty that first day. Did he do that to give me a clue?
Or were they testing my courage in the face of extreme danger? Was I supposed to attempt to escape?
But was there a way to escape this place? There was only one door.
With nothing else to do, I continued to ponder my situation, running each possibility again and again in my head.
Time wasnât on my side. I needed to make a decision.
The longer I stayed here, the weaker Iâd become. If I had to fight my way out, I needed to do it while I still had even a modicum of strength.
Even if this wasnât a part of the games, attempting to escape was better than waiting for help that I wasnât sure would come.
This place was eerily silent, and every sound echoed down the hallway outside my cell door. I perked up each time I heard footsteps.
There they were again. It was the same sound Iâd heard the last four times heâd come. His footsteps had a distinct rhythm to them, heavier than Antonâs and Evanâs, and a lot more uneven.
Iâd dubbed him the water man. Each time heâd open my cell door, heâd toss me a bottle of water.
Anton had said that only three people knew of this place. That meant that he was the third.
Based on how infrequently Anton and Evan visited, and how frequently the water man did, it was possible that this man was the only person guarding this place, and me, full time.
If I could take him downâ¦
The footsteps stopped, keys rattled, the lock clicked, then the door creaked open.
I tightened my arms around myself as I looked at him through my braids.
I knew I looked like a mess. I felt it. My skin was grimy and sticky from the dirty, humid environment, and the air reeked of urine from the bucket I used. The one Evan left behind on my first day here.
A large figure blocked the meager light that filtered through the open door.
I squinted as I stared at his chubby face. His eyes pierced me as he threw the bottle of water inside the room. It rolled to stop at my feet.
I licked my dry lips and asked, wincing at the way my voice croaked, âWhat about food?â
âTell us what we need to know, and youâll get fed.â
I said nothing.
He took that as his sign to leave. The lock clicked once again, and I listened as his footsteps faded away.
After a few minutes of silence, I reached over and grabbed the bottle of water.
That was when I finally noticed it.
The bracelet that Stefano had given me. The one with the blade.
My heart stopped.
Was this another one of his subtle ways of helping me?
I unclasped it and analyzed the length of the blade. It was tiny but sharp enough to pierce skin, though I doubted it would do anything to that man. He was a large man, and his fat would block the blade from hitting anything vital.
Unless I stabbed him in his eyes or somewhere extremely vulnerable.
~Dammit, why didnât I take Samâs lesson on anatomy and arteries more seriously?~
I hesitated.
Did I really want to kill him?
The water man hadnât shown me much malice. He showed up at regular intervals and gave me a bottle of water.
He refused me food, but was that his doing or Antonâs instruction?
But if I didnât stab him in a vital location, how else would I defeat him?
I racked my brain for answers. Maybe I just needed to incapacitate him. He was a big guy with an uneven gaitâmaybeâ¦his legs?
A plan slowly formed, and I sucked up whatever uncertainty I had and forced it to give way to resolve.
I wasnât a weak target.
I had trained for this.
Loyalty or courage be damned. I was getting out of here.
Time passed dreadfully slowly as I waited for the water man to make another appearance.
Everything was in position.
Iâd dragged the chair behind the door and sat there, listening, waiting.
The heavy thud of his footsteps echoed off the concrete, and I was instantly on alert. I clutched the tiny blade in my hand, afraid that itâd disappear.
This was it.
My one chance of escape.
Despite my fear of failing, I bit my tongue and told myself I couldnât stay here any longer.
I stood behind the door and held my breath.
He paused outside the door, and I could hear the keys jingle as he inserted one into the lock.
There was a click, then the squeak of the door opening.
My heart pounded as I waited for the right moment.
His shadow once again blocked the light in the entrance, and he stepped into the room like he always did.
I crouched down and braced myself.
Not seeing me in my usual position, glued to the wall in the corner, he walked into the room, reaching for the gun that was tucked into his pants.
His eyes swept the far side of the room, and once he was turned away from me, I leapt forward and embedded the blade in his ankle.
âFuck!â he shouted in pain as he lost his balance, crashing to the floor.
I scrambled up and quickly grabbed the chair.
Spews of curses flew from his mouth as he struggled to reach the blade. He didnât pay me any mind, probably thinking my goal was to run out of the room.
He was right. That was my main goal, but I wasnât stupid enough to leave him conscious.
I lifted the chair and swung it with all my might. His eyes widened just as the metal seat collided with his face.
His body stiffened, and he fell to the ground with a groan.
His body jerked as he tried to get up, but I couldnât allow that.
I swung the chair again, and it connected with his right temple, finally knocking him unconscious.
I took hurried breaths to try to calm my nerves as my trembling hands searched his body. I found his phone and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
It had a fingerprint lock, so I took his hand and unlocked it, immediately opening the phone app and typing in Stefanoâs number from memory.
My heart thumped in my throat as it rang.
No answer.
I blew out a breath and chose to send a text message instead.
~SOS. Catalina.~
I had no idea where I was, so hopefully he could trace the phone to my location or call me.
I switched the phone to vibrate only and tucked it away in my shirtâI didnât need it making any noise just in case Anton or Evan were lurking around somewhere.
Then I pulled my blade from the manâs leg and grabbed the ropes that had originally bound me to the chair. I tied one end to his wounded ankle and the other to the door handle.
That way, itâd hurt whenever he moved to undo it, buying me even more time.
I took my gag and bound his mouth so he couldnât call for help. Finally, I grabbed his keys and gun before stepping outside.
I found myself in a long, winding hallway. I winced against the harsh lights lining the walls, but I couldnât let them slow me down.
The minute I locked the door to my cell, I felt my shoulders slouch in relief.
I was seeing a new side of me with every second I spent living as a Roscotto, and I was impressed with how strong Iâd gotten, both mentally and physically.
However, it wasnât yet time to celebrate.
I glanced warily around the corridor. It looked like I was in a basement of sortsânothing but cement walls.
I walked cautiously down the hallway, pointing the gun in each of the cell doors before glancing in them, but the cells were empty. I was the only one being held captive.
A blinking red light caught my eye, and I looked up at the ceiling as a camera adjusted its position to point in my direction. It was tracking my movement.
I froze, staring into the face of the camera with startled eyes.
Was I caught?