"Ms. Chastine," the guard says and I'm surprised he even knows my name. He gestures with his hands in the direction of the car. Giovanni has already disappeared back inside, the door firmly shut. "It's time to go."
I inhale a breath.
"You don't want to keep Giovanni waiting," the guard urges, though his tone remains low and calm.
"Can I not even take a breath?" I find myself snapping at the man before I can help myself.
I tense, prepared for a blow to come at the blatant disrespect, but instead, I'm rocked to my core when there's only a humorless laugh. "With Giovanni Costa, no, the second it takes for a breath, is the second in which he will kill you," his brows pull down slightly, "or have me kill you. And this suit is new, so start moving, please."
The contradiction of politeness and rudeness snaps me back to reality and reminds me of what I'm dealing with.
I don't say anything back to the guard, but my feet start to move in the direction of the car. And with every step, my heart pounds harder in my chest.
Step.
How long is it going to take him to kill me?
Step.
What is he going to do to me before then?
Step.
And how will I remain intact?
I pause in front of the door, trying to give myself time to pull myself together, but the guard reaches over, pulling the door open for me.
You won't remain intact. You'll break into pieces, one shard at a time, until there's nothing left.