I Woke Up at the Altar and Said No to the Mob Heir Who Let Me Die, but He Remembers Too novel · Chapter 22 of 40

Chapter 22: The Fourteenth

I tried to shut it.

His boot was already in the gap.

The chain held for one second.

Then he put his shoulder into it, and the screws came out of the frame.

I ran for the window.

I got as far as the radiator before his arm went round my waist and lifted me off my feet.

I kicked. I got him in the shin with my heel and he swore.

A second man came through the door behind him, younger, in a hooded sweatshirt.

"Easy," the first one said. "Nobody wants to hurt the seamstress."

He smelled of cigarettes and wet wool.

The younger one pulled a plastic tie around my wrists, in front of me, and yanked it tight.

They walked me down the back stairs between them.

On the landing, the gray-haired man with the crosswords lay on his side with his eyes shut.

His newspaper was under him. He was breathing. I watched his back go up and down until they pushed me past.

The shop was dark.

Una's bat leaned behind the register where she'd left it.

Nobody had ever had the chance to pick it up.

The back door opened onto the alley.

A white van sat there with its engine running and its side door open.

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