He laughs.
The sound is wrong. Too high. Too sharp. Like glass breaking against concrete.
"Let you go." He shakes his head slowly. "No. I don't think so."
"But if you what you want?—"
"I'll get it." He cuts me off. "Your husband will do whatever I ask to get you back."
He stands.
The chair scrapes against the concrete floor, and I flinch at the sound. He's tall. Taller than I remembered. His shadow falls across the mattress, across me, blocking out what little light exists in this room.
"But here's the thing." He takes a step closer. "I made a promise."
My heart pounds against my ribs.
"What promise?"
He smiles.
It's the worst thing I've ever seen. Worse than the scar. Worse than the emptiness in his eyes. That smile tells me everything I need to know about what kind of man he is.
"You won't end up alive."
The words hang in the air between us.
I can't breathe.
"Bruno will come for you." He takes another step. "He'll bring the ledgers. He'll do everything I ask. And then he'll take you home."
Another step.
"But you won't be breathing when he does."
My hands are shaking. I press them harder against the mattress, trying to stop the trembling, trying to think through the panic that's flooding my brain.
I need a way out.
I need to buy time. I need to find something, anything, that will keep me alive long enough for Bruno to find me.
"If this is about money?—"
"It's not about money."
"But it could be." I force the words out. "The Sartoris have more money than you can imagine. Whatever the Castellanos are paying you, Bruno will double it. Triple it. He'll give you anything you want."
He stops.
For one second, I think it worked. I think I've found the crack in his armor, the weakness I can exploit.
Then he laughs again.
"You think this is about payment?" He shakes his head. "You think I'm doing this for money?"
He moves closer. Too close. Close enough that I can smell him—sweat and cigarettes and something metallic that might be blood.
"I'm doing this because I want to."