He puts me on speaker. “Go on, say hi.”
Nothing.
I wait. Strain to listen. I want to crawl through the phone, but there’s nothing, no sign of Liam.
The silence drags on forever.
A little less cheerful, Pietro says, “He’s not terribly chatty, is he?”
“Liam?” I question. It’s not lost on me that Pietro could be lying. Maybe Liam isn’t there—but is it because he didn’t actually catch him, just got his phone somehow? Or is Liam dead?
If he’s there, he doesn’t answer me.
Pietro sighs. A muffled, “Go get Antonio.”
I don’t know Antonio’s purpose but it can’t be good, and my stomach is furious at this whole situation. I want to hang up, but I can’t until I know if he really has Liam.
I have no idea what to do if he doesn’t. Drive myself crazy waiting to see if Liam shows up at this godforsaken cabin? Wait for Pietro’s goons to find me? I know they have no way of tracking me from this phone call—that’s the whole reason Liam gave it to me, but….
What do I do if Liam’s really gone?
And what the hell do I do if he isn’t?
“Remember I said we’d do this as painlessly as possible?” Pietro says, but not to me. “Last chance. Talk to Annabelle.”
Nothing.
I frown, not knowing what to expect. What to trust. Is Pietro putting on a show for me, or is he actually talking to Liam? If Liam’s there, why won’t he say so?
Unless he doesn’t want me to know.
Of course he doesn’t want me to know.
“Liam?” I ask, tentatively. “Please don’t try to be a hero right now. I want to know if you’re there.”
Still nothing.
There’s commotion on the other end. Then a noise I can’t quite identify, something hitting something, maybe?
Pietro speaks up. “Unfortunately I can’t promise your lover’s state will be as previously stated for much longer. He doesn’t want to talk, so we’re giving him a little… incentive.”
I think I make out a weak grunt, but with the sound of something striking… something?
My grip tightens on the phone. “Are you hitting him?”
“With a pipe,” Pietro responds cheerfully.
“Stop! Jesus Christ, stop!” I jump off the couch, full of useless adrenaline. I don’t want to cede to any demands when I’m not even sure they have him, but I also don’t want them to beat him to death if they do.
“He’s not talking yet.”
“That’s—I don’t care. I believe you! Stop hurting him.” The striking sound ceases and I can picture Pietro, holding a well-manicured hand up, all smug and fucking disgusting.
“What do you want?” I ask lowly.
“It’s not so much what I want as what your mother wants,” Pietro replies. “She wants you back home. She wants you at the party with all the relatives who expect to see you there, being the dutiful fucking daughter that you are not. I’m done with these games, Annabelle. I’m done letting you hurt your mother. It’s time to come home, it’s time to make nice, it’s time to put all this bullshit behind you.”
Every shred of me rejects what he’s saying, but I have to help Liam. I never thought I’d get out—now I have and Pietro is trying to drag me back.