Chapter 45

Tears mixed with saliva, running down her chin and soaking the man's hand. It was impossible to tell which was which.

The thug's gaze grew hotter. He pinched her tongue between his fingers. “You've got a tongue. How come you can't talk?"

"Who cares if she has a tongue? Can we just get on with it?" the other one snapped. "I'm about to lose it."

“What's the rush?" The first thug pulled his hand back, wiping his fingers on Latisha's clothes. He glanced at her tear-streaked face. “Let's find a safer spot.”

Even if she was mute, the constant traffic passing by posed a risk. They couldn't afford to be interrupted by some do-gooder.

Latisha heard their conversation, her heart pounding with panic. She scanned the area, but apart from the indifferent figures back under the bridge, there was no one around.

Clifford had told her to survive for two weeks. It had been less than a single night, and he had already proven his point: without him, she was nothing. Anyone could hurt her.