(ADRIANNA'S POV)
I'm still in the same chair.
My wrists ache from where they were bound. One hand is free now. The other is still tied to the armrest, the rope biting into my skin every time I shift.
Aaron is slumped in a chair beside me.
They don't even bother tying him up.
He can't lift his head. He can't straighten his back. His chest rises shallowly, each breath sounding like it hurts.
They press my phone into my free hand.
My heart starts pounding so hard it feels like it's going to tear straight out of my chest because of what I'm about to do.
There's a gun aimed right at my forehead, and Raffaele's finger rests on the trigger.
"Just like we rehearsed," he says calmly. "Okay?"
I nod because I don't trust my voice. I swallow the sob clawing its way up my throat and it burns all the way down.
My hand is shaking as I lift the phone.
I unlock it.
The screen lights up and for a few seconds my finger hovers over the Instagram icon.
