Ryan Retribution: A Dark Mafia romance (New York Ruthless Book 3)
Ryan Retribution: Chapter 3

My shoulder throbs like it has been speared by a red hot poker as I lie on the dusty floor of the van. I’ve got some kind of hood over my head, and my ankles and wrists are bound, but I listen to everything. I’m sure we’ve left the city and are on the freeway, but I have no idea where these pricks are taking me. They have been talking non fucking stop in Russian, making me regret not asking Jessie to teach me some when I had the chance so I could understand a single fucking word of what they’re saying.

I shift my position to a more comfortable one, and someone kicks my ankles and mumbles something unintelligible.

“Fucking asshole,” I shout as I kick both of my legs back at whoever it was, but all I hit is air and the sound of laughter fills the van, followed by more Russian voices. There are at least four of them in here with me. I feel so fucking stupid getting ambushed like that.

What the fuck! I should have been more vigilant. We knew they were going to attack sooner or later, and I let my guard down. I was so fucking relieved to have those two drunken college girls off my hands that I took my eye off the ball. And now I am in the back of some disgusting van that, for some reason, stinks of fucking sausages and bacon grease and it makes me want to vomit into the bag on my head.

Fuck! I hope someone saw something, and my brothers are already on their way. But what if nobody saw anything? What if these fuckers are going to shoot me in the head, dump me in some ditch somewhere before anyone even notices that I’m missing? What if I never see my brothers or Jessie again?

My heart races in my chest so fast that I feel like it’s going to burst through my ribcage. I try to take deep breaths, but the heavy cloth bag over my head doesn’t exactly make that easy and I start to hyperventilate as I struggle to get enough air into my lungs.

Fuck! I can’t breathe. I’m going to suffocate on the floor of this stinking, shit-box van. I can’t die like this. Not here.

Think, Liam! Stop fucking freaking out like a scared little kid and think! What did Dr. Lisa used to tell Conor to do when he was having a panic attack or a nightmare?

The window. Yeah, that was it. Draw a window in your mind and follow the lines.

Breathe in for two.

Hold.

Out for two.

Hold.

And repeat.

As my breathing rate slows, I get more air into my lungs and my heart starts to calm down too. They will notice I’ve gone. They will be looking for me right now. And they will come get me and take me home. And if they don’t, I will haunt them for the rest of their goddamn lives.

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