Chapter 6 Camilla’s Pov

When I was done, a different man came to take me out of the room. His hands were rough on my skin as he pulled me through the halls.

He pulled me in front of a door and knocked. I felt panic rush through me and my hands shook by my side as I waited for whatever terror was behind that door.

“W–where are you ta—taking me? What's going to happen to me?” I asked carefully and his tight grip on me loosened slightly.

He glared at me but said nothing. He seemed to be contemplating whether I was even worth answering.

I sighed.

“A–are you one of the men that took me?” I asked again. I was frustrated at this point.

This time, he scoffed and gave me a look that said ‘do you really think I'm going to answer that?’

“Please. I just need some answers.” I begged, already doing one of the things the lady warned me against.

He frowned as he looked down on me. “Yes, I was.” He replied.

Well, I guess begging isn't so bad afterall.

“You know, if you let me walk away now, I will never utter a word of this to anybody. I promise you that. You see, it was my birthday party and I was just trying to get home…” I was trying to get this man to feel something, anything. I was trying to control the tears that were filling my stomach and I swallowed down a cry. It was bad enough that I was begging already. I didn't want to add crying to it.

His eyes went a little wide but he said nothing. His demeanor remained cold. He finally looked away from me, almost as if he couldn't stand to look at me.

I noticed the tattoos covering his arms and neck, drawings and symbols that I had no idea about.

I frowned as I read the writing along his arm, it read,

“Sel El dueño del barrio”

It was old Spanish for “we own this neighborhood.”

I frowned at the writing because it almost seemed like an answer to my plea. It wasn't like I even knew where I was. Where would I go? They clearly own this neighborhood.

I needed to be smart about this. I couldn't cry. Deep within me, I knew that men like him don't feel anything for crying girls. They're killers at heart.

“What's your name?” I asked suddenly.

For someone so smart, I just asked a stupid question. I know. But I needed to know someone's fucking name before I go crazy!

He looked at me, his eyebrows pulled together, his jaw set, and his eyes looked dangerous.

The door opened and I felt him grab me inside but this time, it was a little softer, a little less angry. Before we went further in, he whispered close to me.

“Santiago. My name's Santiago.”

And with that, he pushed me further in the room.

“Hey, Santiago!” A voice called out from the dim light of the room. “We gotta take her to the boss. Àlvaro wants her at his place immediately. That was the order.”

Àlvaro. I know that name. It sounded oddly familiar.

Boss? As in mafia boss? I suspected this but it didn't stop the fear that gripped my heart.

It had to be. That's definitely how I knew that name. There's no one from Spain who hasn't heard of the notorious Àlvaro Castillo.

A man suddenly stood next to me and Santiago as they both dragged me back out into the hallway as if one person was not enough to hold me down.

Santiago pulled a black cloth out of his pocket and wrapped it over my head, making me temporarily blind. The panic kicked in and I tried to pull free from him. I flailed my arms and kicked. I tried to bite him through the cloth but he was wearing thick gloves and he just kept walking, unbothered.

His hands wrapped tightly around my waist and I felt the other man grab my legs. I was off the ground in a second.

They walked quickly and I felt myself panicking through each step they took. The man holding my legs seemed to enjoy this.

“Está jodidamente ardiente. Lo que daría por poder tenerla para mí. (She's fiery as fuck. What I would do to have her for myself.)

I flinched at his words and I felt his hands raise a little higher on my thighs. I whimpered. I felt so fucking useless. I couldn't do anything. All I seemed to know how to do was scream and protest.

“Shut up.” was all Santiago said. He spoke in English almost as if he wanted me to know that he just prevented something terrible from happening.

I was too busy trying to struggle free to care. They walked down a set of stairs and turned into a musty smelling space, probably a garage.

I felt the creepy man letting go of my legs and Santiago caught my weight. He hoisted me up, his hands gripping me in a bruising hold. I heard a car door open and I was suddenly tossed in and the door was slammed shut behind me.

The engine roared to life and I instinctively curled up into a ball. As the car picked up speed, I felt myself slowly accepting my terrifying state.

I was no longer the girl who just wanted to have a nice birthday party with her friends. At this point, I was beginning to wonder if they were even real friends because shouldn't they be looking everywhere for me? Hell! They should've found me by now!

I was no longer going to be the happy, innocent girl.

I knew that if I lived through this, if I actually survived this, I would never be the same again.

If.

Not when.

If.

~~~~

After what felt like about fifteen minutes of driving, I felt someone lean over me, taking off the bag over my head.

Santiago sat, unsmiling, on the seat in front of me. Two guns poked out casually from his jeans. I tried to look out the tinted window but all I could see was shapes and outlines of the road as we drove.

I turned my gaze back to Santiago. He could've been incredibly good looking if he wasn't always so stone faced and cold. My eyes kept glancing back to the tattoo on his arm.

“We own this neighborhood.” I mumbled softly, repeating the Spanish words of his tattoo.

His eyes darted towards me. “What did you just say?”

I leaned back in my seat, trembling. “N–nothing.”

He leaned forward. “What did you fucking say?” He asked again, this time, louder.

I shook my head. “It's just your t–tattoo.” I motioned towards his arm. He glanced briefly at his arm before he turned to look at me again.

“It's in Spanish. How did you know what it said?”

I shook my head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why couldn't I just keep my damn mouth shut.

I opened my mouth, searching for the words to explain but nothing came out.