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My heart squeezes painfully, a noose tightening around my throat.
That’s not true. That’s not true. That’s not true.
I look down at my left hand, Nate’s initials carved into my skin give me a sense of safety. If he was mad enough to do that, I know he won’t leave me behind. They somehow let me keep my rings, maybe to remind me of why I’m here. I will try to sell them to a client. Tell them they’re his if he gets me out. I’ll fucking try anything.
“Until a week ago, I was told he was out of his mind. He was doing everything he could.” He shrugs. “I guess he gave up because there’s no more news from him. Nathan White has stopped looking for you, twenty-three.”
He’s trying to destroy your hope. But he will come. Nate will save you, and he’ll bring you back to your daughters.
I try to imagine Lia’s laughter and the way she calls my name. I think of how tightly Livie holds me when I carry her. I remind myself that, no matter what, Nate always finds me. He’ll bring me back home. But my thoughts are cut short by Bogdan’s voice.
“Undress.”
My gaze snaps up. His hardened black eyes are on me. That man had his nose broken before. I can see that. And in a suicidal move, because I would rather die than have him sell my body, I punch him.
My fist flies to his nose, knowing it must be fragile from past hits. Blood splatters, and he brings his hands to his face as he stumbles back.
“Fucking bitch!”
He’s back on me in a split second, wrapping a mighty hand around my arm and throwing me on the bed. It creaks under my weight as I land on my front.
“You think I’m as dumb as the other ones? That I’m gonna beat you up so we can’t use you?”
I scream when he grabs the hem of my sweatpants, dragging them down my legs. He rips the oversized panties they gave me, and I kick back.
But then someone else runs in. The handler.
“No!” I scream as he presses a hand at the back of my neck and one on my back, keeping me flat against the mattress.
Bodgov spreads my legs violently, then my ass cheeks. “No, please! Please, please…”
Tears explode from my eyes when he spits on me.
“Fucking dry slut,” he growls. “I bet you regret hitting me now, huh?”
“I’m sorry,” I sob, unable to prepare myself for what I’m about to endure. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t.”
My entire body recoils in disgust, but the second I feel him lower his jeans and his naked hips between my legs, I fall silent.
It’s almost like I can feel my soul leaving my being, the out-of-body experience completely unreal. Something is about to happen to this poor woman held down by two men, and I feel sad for her. There’s nothing I can do to help her.
Nate isn’t coming. And I’m never going to see my girls again.
I’m never going to feel my husband’s arms around me, strong and grounding.
I’m never going to feel the taste of his lips on mine. I’m never going to get to name my feelings to a man who wants to listen to me. Who wants to understand me. Who wants to protect me.
A commotion brings me out of my bizarre state, and I crash back into my body.
He’s not inside me. He’s letting me go. They both are.
Gunshots.
There are gunshots down the hallways. And screams.
I sit on the bed, using the momentary break to pull up my underwear and sweatpants. When I look up at Bodgov, his eyes are on the door, his pants still down as we hear doors being burst open and women screaming.
It’s getting closer.
