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He looks like he wants to say something to me, but then he hesitates. Any noise might alert my family to his presence. So instead, he takes a purposeful step in my direction. Better to take me out quietly, I suppose. I’m an easy target. He can always come back and finish the job once I’m dead.
Terrified for my life—and more importantly, the life of my unborn child—I suddenly find the ability to move. Adrenaline surges through me as I think only about saving my baby. Spinning on my heel, I race back down the rough-hewn dirt tunnel toward the stairs that lead up into my family’s home.
I can feel Mishka hot on my heels, though I got a pretty decent head start.
But my bare feet are a handicap. They slap against the cold, hard ground, sending knives of pain up through my soles and making me limp.
Meanwhile, Mishka has years of training and heaps of physical athleticism on his side. He’s going to catch me no matter how desperately I flee for my life.
Skidding past the wooden staircase, I come to a screeching halt and backtrack to race up the solid steps. Heart pounding in my throat, I climb them, realizing just how stupid my decision was.
Why did I run?
Who’s going to save me now?
I sure as hell am not strong enough to save myself. But I can’t go back. I don’t understand the layout of the rough-hewn tunnels my father has carved out of the foundation of our house, and I could easily wind up running straight into Mishka’s arms.
Vlad. My bodyguard—maybe he’s still here. Though it’s late enough at night, I doubt it.
At the top of the stairs, I spin and grasp the heavy trap door leading into the creepy labyrinth of tunnels beneath my family’s home. Nothing but death and violence live down there. I know that now. I saw it in the storm-blue eyes of the man I thought I loved.
The same man who climbs the stairs with terrifying agility now.
Like a cat, he moves with lithe grace, skipping steps as he closes the distance between us in no time at all. His eyes stay locked on me, even as his body manages the last obstacle separating us. A predator keeping his prey in sight as he prepares to pounce.
With all my might, I fling the trap door shut on him.
“Alina!” He grunts, catching it mere inches before it crashes against its frame. Then he lifts it like it weighs next to nothing. “Alina, stop!” he hisses.
He slips through the narrow opening he creates in the floor, then he lowers the trap door without a sound.
I’m dead. I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead.
I don’t wait to see what he’ll do next as I bolt toward the door leading from the cigar room and into the hall. If I can get that far, maybe I can find someone to help me.
A scream works its way up my throat as my fingers close around the handle. But before the sound can leave my lips, one powerful arm wraps around my waist.
Mishka’s other hand clamps down over my mouth, his callused palm forming a terrifying seal over my face as he cuts off my ability to breathe. I’m hauled back against his muscular chest, his grip like an iron band as he holds me close.
My heart breaks into a sprint as my fight-or-flight instinct demands I do everything within my power to survive. My fingers claw fruitlessly at his hand, struggling to gain purchase and stop him from suffocating me.
And though I know no one will hear me, I release a bloodcurdling scream. At the same time, I kick back, landing a few solid blows to his shins. But though he grunts in pain, he doesn’t release me.
“Alina, please,” he pants, his powerful arms subduing me.
I’m terrified, my mind screaming for me to do something—anything. And at the same time, my body grows weak against his touch. How can I be scared out of my mind and still feel safe as soon as he pulls me close?
It makes no sense at all. But the fight goes out of me as my limbs go limp, my legs struggling not to buckle, my fingers grasping weakly at his wrist.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I swear,” he murmurs against my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.
Then, as if realizing he’s depriving me of oxygen completely, his thumb moves, freeing my nose. I gasp, sucking in lungfuls of air that burn after running so hard.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Alina. I just want to talk. Please, just… just let me explain. Okay?”
I keep sawing air through my nose, in and out, in and out. My body still quivers with a need to flee. But slowly, as we breathe heavily together, I can feel Mishka’s strong heart beating against the back of my shoulder blade. As it calms to a normal pace, it relaxes me enough to think logically.
Releasing his wrist, I let my head fall back against his chest in defeat. Whatever he thinks he can explain, it’s better to hear him out than keep fighting because I’m not going to escape. Closing my eyes, I work on steadying my breath, and I hate that his warm, strong arms comfort me.
