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“Put her gag back on. I doubt anyone will hear her, but I see no point in taking chances.” With that, my captor stalks from the room, his lithe gait in contrast with the horrible scars that cover his skin.
And as the men converge on me, the fierce rebellion I felt moments before vanishes.
“No, please,” I beg, my eyes stinging with tears that I know won’t come. But I can stand the thought of being gagged again.
I cringe away from their rough hands, curling in on myself.
It does nothing to help, though. I have nowhere to go, and one man roughly grasps a handful of my hair, forcing my head back until I cry out in pain. The other slips the dirty fabric back over my chin, releasing it as it settles between my teeth.
My head is shoved roughly forward, and with their laughter fading around me, they exit the room.
The door groans shut, leaving me alone once more, and after searching fruitlessly past the blinding spotlight into the shadows beyond, I let my head fall forward in defeat.
Devastation floods me as I realize the finality of my fate. A moment later, I’m consumed by regret. Because I won’t get to make amends with Mishka. And we won’t get to raise our child together.
Piercing sadness makes me sob.
How could it take my facing death to see the answer with perfect clarity?
I never should have doubted him. I love Mishka with every fiber of my being. I want to be with him, to have his child. I would have run away with him, left my father’s whole cruel world behind.
And now, I’ll never have the chance to tell Mishka the truth.
10
MISHKA
The house is filled with Sakharov men who step aside as soon as Viktor and I enter through the front door of the massive Brownstone. Sergio doesn’t even bother trying to fit us all in the office as he and his wife stand at the foot of the stairs that lead up to Alina’s room.
My chest aches hollowly to know she’s not up there.
She’s nowhere to be found.
Sergio’s booming voice carries across the vaulted room, stirring me to action before he’s even given a command.
“So far, the police found Alina’s phone at the accident site, and they’ve confirmed that no one under her name has been brought into the nearby hospitals,” Sergio says, his meeting waiting for no one, it would seem, as he brings the clan up to speed on what’s happened.
The men shift restlessly, knowing exactly why Sergio would be calling them together if the police have already checked the local hospitals for his daughter.
“And while Boston’s finest are searching for her,” he adds, raising scoffs from his audience at the insincere honorific, “I think it’s safe to assume someone took her. This was no random hit-and-run.”
I glance toward Viktor as fresh information makes me realize the situation is even worse than I imagined. If someone caused her wreck intentionally, then took her, I doubt anyone’s going to find her in a Boston hospital.
Viktor bristles visibly beside me, his fingers flexing as he appears to come to the same conclusion.
“I want her found. Whatever the cost,” Sergio commands.
And my muscles hum with fresh purpose as his order releases me to do exactly what I intend.
“Kill the men who took her,” he adds, his deep voice as cold as ice, “and bring her home.”
The men disperse, breaking up into teams as they filter from the house like water through a floodgate.
Meeting Viktor’s eyes, I jerk my chin toward Rasputin and the boys we went out with last night. Lenka is the only one not sporting bruises on his face—besides Rasputin—but they look ready to go hunting, and today, I’m glad for their talents, though last night, I was certain I couldn’t do another job with them without going crazy.
Viktor seems to read the message in my eyes, and as we head in their direction, he cocks an eyebrow. “You know something?” he asks, his voice infused with curiosity.
“What happened with those guys we fought last night?” I ask, the hint of a suspicion forming in my mind.
