Forty.

I flutter my eyelids open, waking up with my heart racing and my head spinning.  I feel like I've been heavily drugged and I have no idea where I am.

I sit up and massage my eyes with the palms of my hands, then squint when I withdraw them. All I see are cement and cinder block walls; cool air sneaks through the holes in the wall, and I rub my hands up and down my arms.

I close my eyes and place my hands over my face trying to keep myself together. "Please let this all be a bad nightmare!" The quivering words escape past my lips as my body trembles with fear.

I raise my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I start to rock back and forth, with each movement I make, the mattress beneath me creaks.

The little bit of moonlight illuminating the room brings my nightmares to life. I look up and see the little red dot moving side to side as the camera watches me.

I remember this place all too well.

It is the one place I wished to never see again, but, here I am. Held as a prisoner in one of Trent's underground cells. I dig my heels into the ripped and soiled mattress. I try to retrace my steps from yesterday and nothing comes to mind as the fog hasn't yet lifted from my mind.

My hands quickly fly over my body, checking to see if my clothes are still intact and if any bruises have developed on my goosebump-covered flesh.

I wince, feeling like I've swallowed small shards of glass as I try to suppress the anxiety of what he may have done to me.

I know full well what Trent is capable of.

He is a man with no morals and I quickly begin to panic.

Is he going to leave me here to rot?

Will Aydem try to look for me?

No, of course, Aydem won't. Why would he?

"Hey, let me out!" I croak in a raspy tone that makes my throat feel like it's on fire

Using the wall, I stand up a little too quickly and I sway on my feet as I make my way to the door of the cell. I look around and realise the other three cells are empty and I sigh with relief.

These are the cells Trent places his girls in before he executes them. He likes to watch them slowly dwindle away, losing their sanity before he puts a bullet right between their eyes like a dog.

With every step I take, nausea grows stronger and the sensation to throw up engulfs me.

I wrap my hands around the metal pipes, watching as my knuckles turn white and I start to rattle the door.

Over and over until I realise there is no use. No one is down here and no one is coming.

I turn around, sliding to the ground as my back is pressed against the cruel cell door. He has put me in a cage like a god damn animal and I fear I'll never get to see or kiss my little Sandro again.

Time appears to have come to a halt as I drift in and out of sleep many times. I stand again, this time slowly and stretching my stiff limbs, noting a metal tray in the corner of the cell holding a glass of water and a meat sandwich.

He was here and I missed him.

I won't beg or cry for his mercy.

It rouses his excitement to see his victims grovel, and I will never be one of those victims.

On shaky legs, I reach for the glass of water on the tray, holding it up in the air to see whether he is put anything in it.

The water appears to be clear, and I am fucking thirsty. I down the entire glass in one go and toss it towards the room's enormous door, which conceals all four cells.

"Let me out, you bastard!" I yell.

I begin coughing and hunching over as my stomach cramps and every muscle in my body begins to burn as if on fire, and I immediately realise Trent poisoned my water with something poisonous.

The room rapidly spins and I sense myself falling into a black pit of darkness as I fight to breathe.

>>>

I spring awake and fall off the side of the bed, clawing at my throat and gasping for air. My eyes fly around the room, and I finally realise I am secure in my apartment room. I focus on increasing my breathing and drag myself up off the floor and onto the bed, blinking back tears.

It felt real.

Everything about that nightmare was so realistic, and I am beginning to wonder whether they are aware that I have turned on them, providing the Irishmen with all the information necessary to bring them down while removing all their existing agreements.

I run my trembling fingers through my hair as I glance at the clock. It is currently 07:20 a.m. I am running late, and I sigh as I get off the bed and enter my ensuite. As I turn on the hot water, the apartment is filled with the sound of a thunderous knock.

I turn the shower off, walking towards my front door with a scowl on my face. I am aware that Aydem stated he would send someone over to pick me up this morning; what I did not realise was that they would come to the door and personally notify me of their arrival.

I turn the door's two deadbolt locks and find myself staggering backwards as the front door is kicked in. I land on my back, striking my head, and when my attacker towers over me, pointing a gun at my head, his face is blurred.

"Please don't hurt me!" I cry out as he drags me to my feet by the roots of my hair.

"Hurt you?" A familiar deep voice chuckles, causing my heart to stop. "Oh, Mila baby. I'm going to do so much more than hurt you." He snarls as he drags me towards my room.

I claw at his hand. "Let me go you sick son of a bitch!" I cry out and he pushes me onto my bed.

With the intensity of his shove, my body bounces up and down on the mattress. I observe him through hazy eyes as he scans my room, his hands immediately reaching for the buckle of his belt.

"Ti ha fottuto qui dentro?" [Did he fuck you in here?]

I scramble to the top of my bed, encircling my shivering body with my arms. "Wh. Who are you referring to?" My voice trembles in fear.

"Quella feccia turca. Gli hai lasciato scopare ciò che mi appartiene?" [That Turkish scum. Did you let him fuck what belongs to me?] He stares at me with wide eyes as he pulls down his pants.

"No!" I shake my head.

When Trent wraps his fingers around my ankles, my hand slides beneath my pillow, retrieving the pistol Aydem gave me yesterday as protection. He drags me closer to him. I remove the safety, aim it directly at him, and pull the trigger.

BANG!

He lets go of me, his gaze falling to his abdomen, where blood begins to trickle from his wound.

"You fucking bitch!" He roars as he lunges at me, attempting to rip the pistol from my grasp.

BANG!

The gun fires again, but this time the trigger was not pulled by me.