Stephanie's POV

I never gave much thought about how I would die, but watching my life pass before my eyes with the man I love wasn't on my radar. Carlos and I are holding hands. We are bound to the chairs with cuffs, ropes and any restraints our captors could find. Oh. I forgot to mention we are naked. There are no lock picks, bobby pins or scissors anywhere on our bodies to escape this hell.

Do you know what hurt the most? The betrayal and lies. I couldn't understand how he could do this to me. He claims to love me and treasures our friendship. If this is how he expresses his love, I don't want to experience his hate. I pray our friends can get to us in time. This situation scares me. Hasn't he done enough to my family? I know he's behind this. I vaguely recall hearing his voice as he tied me to this chair.

There is no lost love between Carlos and Joe. They barely tolerate each other. I rub the indentation on my husband's ring finger using my thumb. He does the same to mine. "Can you wiggle the ties loose?" I ask Carlos.

"No," he replies. "I'll keep trying." Carlos shifts, inching the chair across the floor to get his back closer to me. The legs squeak on the cement. We have to get out of the restraints. My hands are trapped with his. Carlos ran his fingers up the palm of my hand to reach the rope tied to my wrists.

Tears stream down my face. I know we have no escape. Our bondage is only one of many things keeping us confined inside our prison. "Do you trust Bobby and Lester to raise our kids?" I ask. Bobby and Lester live beside Carlos and me. I thought they were a couple, but Lester insists they're a couple of bachelors living fast and free with the women. However, they never brought a woman home to their house. They prefer to keep the vipers away from Carlos and my children.

"I do," Carlos says. "Sophie loves her Tio Lester. Mateo loves his Tio Bobby. The other men will help too." Our daughter, Sophie, is a mini-me. She has dark curly hair and gorgeous blue eyes reminding me of the water in Hawaii. Her darker skin makes her eyes shine bright. Mattie resembles Carlos with his dark, straight hair and eyes.

"And Ella," I add, reminding him of his aunt. "I imagine your mom will watch them when Bobby and Lester work." My mother-in-law, Maria, is a kind woman. She will do anything to help her children and grandkids.

"Bobby and Lester promised to concentrate on raising our children. Tank will run Rangeman with the others. We have a great team to run the business without us." I knew that firsthand. They will move to Miami if Carlos and I die. I want them away from the influence of the Burg and Helen Plum. My brothers, by different mothers, will respect my wishes. I am counting on my village to raise my children.

Another tear drips off my chin. "Do you still have the subcutaneous tracker?" I ask, hoping Morelli didn't find the device at the base of his skull. It was a prototype created by Hector and Silvio. The design requires a smartwatch to enhance the signal for Hector to track.

He leans against the back of the metal chair. His head briefly touches mine. "It's there, but I don't have my watch to amplify the signal," Carlos replies. "How did Morelli catch us?" Carlos and I have microchips implanted in our arms. It will help identify our bodies unless they get damaged.

"I'm trying to figure that out. I know someone helped him. What's the last thing you remember?" I hope he remembers more than I do.

"Dining in Rosini's with potential clients," Carlos answers. "I remember getting into the car and starting the ignition."

"Me too. I remember trying to open the door, but it jammed. Something hissed before everything went black. What happened to our guard?" I knew Carlos had Ram, Woody, Binkie and Manny watching our backs. Our children are at home with Bobby and Lester. Hector and Rodriguez were on patrol. I vaguely recall hearing Morelli laugh, and getting tied to this chair.

"I don't know. It isn't like the men to abandon their posts," Carlos replies. "This screams of a setup." Carlos and I felt the meeting was hinky. We knew halfway through dinner they wouldn't sign a security contract with Rangeman.

I feel Carlos tugging the ropes around my wrists. He's trying to rescue me first. His strong fingers are working on the knot. "I agree. Only one thing would draw the guys away from their stations," I say.

"Technically, two," Carlos adds. "Sophie and Mateo." I almost say there are three reasons. Carlos isn't aware I'm pregnant with our third child. Morelli should find the gift inside my purse - if he didn't toss it in the dumpster.

"Do you think?" I ask, unable to ask the rest of the question. I never want to believe she is capable of such treachery. Isn't she thinking of the children?

"Without a doubt," he replies. "The guys will let your family visit. Maybe Morelli held something over her head." She must know this will put her in prison for life when she gets caught. I know she will get caught.

"Like telling the Burg Angie was named after her paternal grandmother?" I ask. "That ship sailed years ago. Angie resembles Cathy Morelli too much for anyone to ignore."

"Mary Alice?" Carlos asks, keeping me distracted from his actions. I can feel the ropes loosening. He will free me in a few more minutes. I have no concept of time. Carlos and I could have spent hours or days in this prison. I suspect it has been days.

"Not Morelli's daughter. She isn't Steve's, either. My money's on Dickie," I reply. Another tear slips from my eye, leaving a track of moisture beside my nose. Valerie is no better than Joyce Barnhardt. I'm wrong. Valerie is worse because I'm her sister.

"That would mean," Carlos says, trailing off from completing the sentence. He tugs the rope from a knot. The course strand rubs against my wrist.

"Valerie screwed Dickie while he was married to me. It came up during our divorce hearing," I reply. "Maybe her motivation this time was to get you." My sister, Saint Valerie, is no angel, despite popular belief. She may be the perfect wife and mother, but she is a far cry from a good person. I wonder if Lisa, Anna or the baby she's carrying belongs to Albert.

"Why now?" he asks.

"She needs money. Valerie's pregnant again. Kloughn is barely making ends meet. He's a dreadful lawyer," I answer. "He is obviously intelligent. How else can you get through law school? It isn't something you can do online, right?" I didn't understand how obtaining an online law degree was legal.

"They offer courses online for everything," Carlos reminds me. "He had to sit through the exams at an accredited college or university and pass the bar exam. I know he isn't intelligent. He failed every question during the Rangeman assessment to join the department."

"Oh. Kloughn probably had someone write those exams for him," I assume. "I suppose your lawyer not hiring Kloughn was the last straw?"

"It appears that way if Valerie assisted Morelli," Carlos replies. "Unless it's your mom."

"We both know it's the truth. Morelli couldn't pull this off without her," I suggest. "Your men wouldn't consider Valerie as a threat. Mom and Dad are travelling Europe with the money Grandma left them in her will." I wonder if Valerie put something in the duffles we stored in the back of the vehicles.

"Babe, I can hear you thinking. What's on your mind?"

"How often do the duffles in the SUVs get exchanged?" I hope he says daily.

"Once a week," he replies. "I'll change the frequency once we get out of here."

"And switch who gets assigned the car," I add. The ropes slip from my wrists, but they're still bound together. "Cuffs and zip ties?"

"Yes," Carlos replies. "I'm working to snap the tie. Hopefully, I can use the end to pick the handcuffs." I silently pray Carlos gets us free. The kids should be in bed by now. I hope they don't miss us.

I'm taken by surprise when Carlos asks, "Was the pregnancy test positive?"

"Yes," I whisper. "I had it wrapped in my purse for you." More tears stream down my face.

Carlos grunts when the plastic zip ties break. "A few more minutes, Babe," he promises.

I allow myself to get lost in my thoughts. Lester and Bobby know to take Sophie and Mateo to Rangeman Miami if we don't return within twelve hours. It may seem like little time, but I want my children away from the shitstorm I know is about to hit Trenton. "Do you think Lester and Bobby are in Florida?" I ask.

"Yes. We unexpectedly went offline. Their orders are to immediately take our children to safety," Carlos replies. "Will you reconsider relocating to Miami?"

"My reason for staying in Trenton no longer applies, and I don't give a shit about testifying in the attempted kidnapping case. Our children are safer away from Trenton," I answer. I want to move far away from Joseph Morelli and Valerie Kloughn. I'll miss my nieces, but not my sister. Morelli has a restraining order against him. He isn't supposed to be within fifty feet of me. I'm supposed to remain in Trenton until he appears in court a month from now. The prosecution team needs my testimony to lock Joseph Morelli away in prison. He deserves whatever punishment the crown deems necessary. It's a shame they don't have a death penalty for kidnapping.

I plan everything I wish to accomplish in Miami. We can see Julie while there. Carlos has a safe house on the beach with enough bedrooms for our family, including Julie.

My bladder aches, demanding release. I try to hold it. With my pregnancy, it isn't easy. I sneeze, breaking the dam.

"Deep thoughts, Babe?" Carlos asks, distracting me from the urine pooling beneath my chair. The stench of fresh urine fills the space.

"Not really. I need to take a shower," I complain.

"Me too," Carlos confesses.

"Pissing myself is embarrassing," I whine. "I know it isn't the first time I peed."

"You're pregnant," Carlos replies. "The ability to control your bladder dwindles with each pregnancy." I didn't need the reminder.

Carlos moves the cuff from my right wrist. I can move my hands to help Carlos get free. "Thanks," I say.

Standing, I lift the chair to turn around. Carlos drops the zip tie on the floor. "I'll need a new one to unlock mine," Carlos explained. He patiently waits for me to loosen the rope.

"The rope is abrasive," I say, tearing a fingernail when I pull the end from the knot. Carlos encourages me to continue untying the rope. Tears drip as I continue working the rope off my husband's wrists.

"You're almost there, Babe," Carlos says. "Do you remember how to pick the lock?"

"Yes. Hector and Lester made me practice," I reply. I remove the remaining rope from his wrists. "Morelli used flexicuffs on you. You'll have to snap them."

Carlos separated his wrists in a quick motion. The plastic cuffs snap, dropping to the floor. I grimace and grab it from the urine. "Don't think about it, Babe. Do what you need to get one wrist free," Carlos says. I gag as I concentrate on unlocking the handcuffs.

It takes longer than I expect, but one is open. Carlos leans over to untie his ankles. "Thank goodness he didn't shackle our legs," I sigh. "I'll need you to untie mine. I feel too dizzy."

"Anything for you, Babe." Carlos removes the cuff from our other wrists. He thinks it will hinder our escape if it catches on to something.

Carlos holds my hand as we search the space. "Where are we?" I ask. It looks like a warehouse office but I sense we are inside a garage. "It's too small for a warehouse. Maybe a storage locker?"

"Garage," Carlos replies. "There's a spot where oil leaked from a vehicle." He points to the spot where the urine supposedly shimmered. I can't see it and shake my head.

"Can you see in the dark?" I tilt my head, attempting to see where he is pointing. "Sorry, Batman. I can't see in the dark, but I trust your judgment. Whose garage are we in?"

"Only one of four places, Babe," Carlos replies. I know what he is saying. Joseph Morelli, Valerie, Angie Morelli or Mooch Morelli's garage.

"It isn't Angie Morelli's garage or Valerie's garage. Albert has his mom's furniture taking up the space. You know I would recognize the one at Angie's house," I say. "Besides, this space doesn't have a window."

"They could have boarded it up," Carlos adds. It's true. They could have.

"I think there's a fifth option. The men will look at the Morellis. What if we're inside a chop shop on Stark Street? It has to be somewhere unaffiliated with the Morellis," I offer.

Carlos grabs my hand. He guides me to the opposite wall, where he sees an exit. I shiver as Carlos searches for how to open the door. He backs away, then looks for an alternate way to escape. I feel along the wall a few feet below where Carlos is searching. "Babe, I need help," Carlos says, tugging on plywood.

I move between his arms and tug on the corner. It splinters, showing some light through the opening. We continue ripping the wood off the window. A piece snaps me in the forehead. I rub the spot and check for blood. Carlos drops the plywood on the floor, then caresses my face. "Does it look okay?" I ask.

"You look beautiful, Babe. No blood," he replies. Carlos moves me to the side and clears the window. We peek outside. It's sometime during the day. I have no clue how long Carlos and I were locked in the space. The dumpster conceals the window. We can escape without people seeing us.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Slayer territory on Comstock," Carlos replies. I feel the blood rush from my face. Carlos hands onto the window frame to swing his feet into the glass. It took a few kicks, but the glass broke.

"Carlos, are you okay?" I ask when he moves the shards of glass from the pane.

"I'll live," he replies. He shows me his foot. Carlos has a tiny cut on the instep. It's barely bleeding. He touches his foot, pulling a sliver of glass from the abrasion. "See? It's good."

I smile when the blood doesn't drip. "Now, we only have to worry about infection," I reply. "Is the opening large enough for you to fit?" I refuse to leave my husband behind to search for help.

"It's a bit tight. I may get cut on some glass remnants. Hang on, Babe. I'm going to lift you," Carlos says. He carefully holds me as he pushes me through the window. I feel something rough touch my ass. "Peek inside the dumpster for cardboard."

Thankfully, the lid isn't locked. I stand on the protrusion on the side and open the lid. The stench of rotting garbage makes my stomach churn. I feel the vomit rising in my throat. A piece of cardboard sat on the top. I yank it from the dumpster, then close the lid. "I've got something," I say, gagging between words.

"Morning sickness?" Carlos asks.

Shaking my head, I reply, "Smelling garbage sickness. I was fine until I smelled rotting meat. Would this work?"

"Yes." I place the cardboard on the bottom frame. Carlos lifts himself through the window. His biceps and pectorals strain from the motion. My husband is strong. He hugs me tightly, then swiftly releases his grip. "You have a cut on your sexy ass," Carlos says.

"I was afraid of that," I confess.

We hide behind the dumpster to plan our move. I find an abandoned backpack tucked beneath a bush. Carlos raises a brow, then opens the pack. He finds clothing inside. "Put this on. It's too short, but it will cover the necessary bits," Carlos says, handing me a shirt. I pull it over my head. It falls to my thighs, barely covering my crotch. I need something to protect my modesty.

He pulls the sweatpants up his legs to cover himself. They were tight across his muscular thighs. I relax when Carlos hands me a pair of shorts with a tie string at the waist. "Thank goodness someone left this behind. Did someone have shoes?" I ask, praying for a miracle.

Carlos shakes his head. He searches for a phone. "We need to get out of here," Carlos says, abandoning the empty bag. We walk past the garage door accessible at the back of the building. I shiver. Something makes me stumble. Carlos pulls me into his arms and runs. We are less than thirty feet away when the garage explodes. Carlos grunts and pushes me to the ground. He protects me with his body as debris rains on his back.