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“Look at me,” he demands.
I keep my head where it is, my eyes pinned to the ground. I can barely breathe, let alone follow orders. Every ounce of my energy is devoted to blacking out. To slipping out of my body while this man does whatever he’s going to do.
It’s the only way I’ll survive. Dissociate or die.
He grips my chin with sweaty fingers and roughly forces my face to his. “I said, Look at me.”
He slaps me again. My head snaps in the other direction. I feel the heat on my cheek, but the pain is far away. Like it’s happening to someone else.
Good. Fade away. Just like that.
If I don’t fight, maybe this will be over faster. If I stay still and quiet, maybe he’ll take what he wants and leave. Maybe he won’t hurt my baby.
His hand wraps around my throat as he twists me back onto the mattress. The bed is flimsy already, but the metal frame screams under his added weight.
“You should be grateful,” he hisses, unzipping his pants. “I could torture you instead.”
“You already are,” I whisper softly.
Based on the way his fingers dig angrily into my thigh as he shoves my legs apart, I know I said the wrong thing. I press my lips together hard and vow not to say another word. I vow not to cry.
I won’t give him the satisfaction.
8
YAKOV
Isay stares at the house at the end of the block, his brow furrowed. “There aren’t any guards posted outside.”
In the fifteen minutes I’ve been watching the house, I’ve only seen one man step out onto the porch. A cigarette glowed orange between his fingers. After a few minutes, he went back inside. Otherwise, it’s been quiet.
I try to tell myself that’s a good thing. If there was something to see, this place would be crawling with men. Akim would want a crowd.
“Akim wasn’t expecting us to find him,” I guess. “Not this quickly, at least. But thanks to Nik, we did.”
“Thanks to Nik,” Isay repeats. He turns to me, shoulders squared. “What’s the plan?”
“There is no plan. We’ll have to do this on the fly. We’re going to do whatever the fuck is necessary to get Luna and Akim out of there alive.”
Isay frowns. “You want to get Akim out alive?”
“Yes.” I grind my teeth together. “I plan to take my time killing him.”
Isay fights back a shiver and nods. “Consider it done, sir.”
Under different circumstances, I’d spend the time to formulate a plan. I’d have Nik observe the house for a few days. We’d see who comes and goes and at what times. The time of attack would be selected carefully and we’d have a plan with several backups in case shit went sideways.
But Nik isn’t here.
There isn’t time for any of that, anyway. Not when Luna’s life hangs in the balance. So, five minutes later, I lead my men down the street. We circle the house and, on a silent count of three, we move in.
I kick in the front door as windows on either side of the house shatter. Two men on a sunken-in couch in the living room are dead before they can even stand up. Gun still smoking, I move through a narrow connected dining room and into a kitchen. Another man is dead on the floor. Isay kicks him out of the way and we search, moving from room to room, clearing them as we go.
“She isn’t here,” Isay calls to me.
“Garage,” I command, tipping my head towards the back door. “That’s where she’ll be.”
We moved in so quickly that no one in the house was able to raise the alarm. The yard is quiet and dark except for the crunch of gravel under our feet as we walk from the back door to the wide rolling door of the garage.
