Stolen by Truths (Truth or Lies 4)

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod.

And with a few twists and a pop, my shoulder is back in place.

He releases me, and I turn to stare at him.

“Thank you,” I say.

He frowns. “You weren’t kidding. The pain doesn’t affect you.”

I shrug. “When you’ve been through what I have, the pain is just different. It’s part of my life.”

He grabs my wrist again and watches my face twist from the touch. Then immediately lets go.

“I’m sorry. I believe you. I won’t question you again,” he says.

I nod. “Thank you again for fixing my shoulder.” I test it a few times. It’s very sore, but it’s functioning normally again. In a few days, the pain will be a distant memory.

“I should go. I’ll be back to check on you when I can. I really am Enzo’s friend. You can trust me. If there is anything you need, I’m your man,” he says before walking out.

I nod when he looks back. But I’m not sure I believe him. The vibes I get from him are so strange.

Maybe I just don’t trust anyone anymore?

Enzo trusts him, so that’s something. But I’d rather put my and Enzo’s lives in my own hands if I can. Because trusting other people has gotten us both into trouble in the past.

20

Enzo

I watch the dot on the screen like it’s my lifeline.

It is. It’s my only link to Kai. And for the last twelve hours, it hasn’t moved. Milo must have locked her away in the basement room I was locked in.

A room with all the basic necessities but not much more. But at least she’ll have a bed to sleep in and water to drink.

Beyond that, I don’t know what her current state is.

Is her shoulder still dislocated?

Is her leg still broken?

Is she bleeding from her cuts?

Is she barely clinging to life? Or did Milo pump her full of drugs, ensuring she stays alive?

I don’t get answers to any of those questions. Instead, all I get is a little red dot on a map, showing that Kai is within the walls of Milo’s compound—his impenetrable fortress.

The dot may be comforting, but the number showing her heart rate is what has me memorized. Sixty-three. Almost like clockwork, her heart beats at the same rhythm—sixty-three beats per minute.

I watch the blinking heart around the number representing every time her heart beats.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.