She was staring up at the terrifying visage of her imminent death, a silent scream stretching her lips. She reached out to push him away, but her arms were too weak. She sobbed but the tears wouldn't come. She was too parched; there was nothing left in her to cry but dust.
"Lucy," DeLuca said sharply. "Where is Maria?"
She shook her head and tried to roll away from him. He gripped her chin hard and forced her face up to his. She could hear someone bellowing in the background and tried to roll her eyes up to see what was happening above her. Everything was dark, and particles of dirt were raining down all around them. Her dress was torn and dirty.
"Speak now, Lucy Miller, and I might let you live," he hissed down at her. "Where the f**k is my woman?"
Lucy sucked in a panicked breath and
