Chapter 7

I woke up to the smell of rust and damp concrete. My hands were tied behind my back, the rough rope chafing my wrists. I was in a deserted warehouse.

My knee was screaming in pain where it had scraped against the floor. Blood stained my pants.

Across the room, huddled in a corner, was Debbi. She looked terrified, but when she caught my eye, a flash of triumph lit up her face.

A man with a vicious scar across his face loomed over me. "Alyssa Weeks," he said, his voice a low growl. "Your husband is going to pay a lot to get you back."

My nails dug into my palms. It was all a setup. Debbi wasn't a victim. She was a conspirator.

The man threw a phone at my feet. The screen lit up. It was my wedding photo. The one from the basement, now a cruel mockery of a life that was over.

"Please," Debbi started to cry, her voice a pathetic whimper. "Let me go. I'm Brennan's lover. He'll give you anything for me."

Rain began to lash against the tin roof of the warehouse, the sound like angry drumming.

The scarred man walked over to Debbi, a nasty smile on his face. "His lover, huh? We'll see about that."

Just as he reached for her, the warehouse doors flew open. A woman stood there, flanked by two huge men.

It was Gianna Zimmerman.

She walked straight to the scarred man and slapped him hard across the face. "You idiot," she hissed. "I told you to be careful."

Debbi scrambled to her feet and ran to Gianna. "Gianna, thank God you're here! Get me out of this!"

My blood ran cold. "You're in on this together," I said, my voice shaking.

Gianna turned to me, her eyes filled with a deep, chilling hatred. "Of course. She wants your husband. I just want you to suffer."

I struggled against the ropes, the rough fibers cutting deeper into my skin. "What do you want?"

"I'm not going to kill you, Alyssa," she said with a cruel smile. "Not yet. I'm going to make you watch as Brennan chooses her over you. That will be far more painful."

She ripped a piece of duct tape and sealed my mouth shut. Then she took out her phone and filmed us, me tied and gagged, Debbi clinging to her, a perfect damsel in distress.

Then she left, the heavy doors slamming shut behind her.

Minutes later, I heard the sound of a powerful engine outside. The scarred man grinned. "Your husband's here."

He knelt in front of me, his foul breath washing over my face. "Now, let's see who he chooses."

My eyes closed. I saw Brennan's face, the way he used to look at me. I'll always choose you, Alyssa. A promise from another lifetime. I shook my head, trying to clear the memory. That man was gone.

The doors burst open again. Brennan stood there, his suit soaked, his face a mask of thunder. His eyes found me, and I saw them widen in shock at the sight of the blood on my leg.

"Let them go," he commanded.

The scarred man laughed. He pulled out a knife and held it to Debbi' s throat. Another man did the same to me. "Choose, Johnson. You can only save one."

Brennan' s eyes were like chips of ice. "I want them both."

"Only one," the man repeated, pressing the blade against Debbi' s skin, drawing a thin line of red. He did the same to me. The cold steel against my neck was a terrifying promise.

Brennan' s jaw worked. I saw the hesitation in his eyes.

Debbi, in a moment of perfect timing, managed to work the gag from her mouth. "Brennan!" she screamed. "It was her! She set this up! She dragged me into it!"