Layla
“What the f**k is this?” I whispered weakly.
My entire body grew numb. It was like my blood had been replaced with ice water. The only part of my body I could move was my thumb, allowing me to ongoingly scroll through the dozens of photos that showed nothing but taken pictures of me.
It was violating and so, so sickening.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to literally run all the way back to New York and into Aldo’s arms where I knew I’d be safe.
This was utterly abominable.
I’d been taken hostage. I’ve had guns pointed at me. Hell, I had been literally shot—but for some unfathomable reason, this was so much worse.
The pictures I was seeing of myself dated back years ago. Way before Eli was even a toddler. Agent Carter had managed to capture pictures of me t
