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“Thank you, Lynchpin,”he said to himself in a gruff, deep voice meant to be mine. “You’re welcome, nephew. It’s hard work, but keeping my family safe is sooo rewarding.”
I tuned him out until he had something useful to say, pausing when my shoe crunched something underfoot. Crouching, I retrieved the object I’d stood on, and my heart drowned out every other sound when I recognised the pin Knightley always wore, probably a claim to that Italian lineage no one had heard of. It must have fallen off when he abducted my wife. Which meant she didn’t go easily.
“She fought him,” I murmured.
“Like a lioness,” Niall confirmed gleefully. “She elbowed him in the throat, made the bastard wheeze the whole time.
That’s my girl.
But if she fought, Knightley would be more likely to hurt her back. Fear spread more cold through me.
“Jonathan calls her lioness,” I said, rising and noticing Dad was done with his call. “Which means you’ve been watching us. If I find out you have cameras inside my flat, I’ll fucking kill you, Lynch.”
“Just outside,” Niall swore, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. “I’ve tracked the cameras so far; get in Knight’s car and I’ll hack us the rest of the way as and when.”
“Dad,” I said, grabbing his arm as I passed him. Jonathan swerved across the little side street and pulled up beside us,driving with a recklessness I rarely saw from him. “Don’t go home.”
“You know,” he breathed, relief in his voice but dread darkening his black eyes. “How?”
“Lynchpin.”
Jonathan leaned across to shove the passenger door open.
“Shit,” Dad hissed, his whole face changing. “You called him?”
“He’s tracking the car Vasya was taken in,” I explained, already throwing myself into the car Jonathan procured.
“Be careful,” Dad growled, and I knew he didn’t just mean with the asshole who took Vasilisa, and who she was abductedfor.He meant be careful with Niall.
“I will,” I promised and slammed the door shut, Jonathan already peeling out and merging with traffic at the main road.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his jaw set and dark glare fixed on the road. He slammed the horn when the car in front took a moment too long to move, and his jittery energy inflamed my own until I was shaking again.
“Left,” the Lynchpin guided, somehow on speakerphone despite me never pressing that button. I curled my hand into a fist around my phone and exhaled slowly.
Jonathan shot me an alarmed stare, recognising the voice.
I avoided the question in his eyes and focused on my breathing. I didn’t know if calling Niall was the right choice, but there was no going back now. And if it got my wife back in my arms, I decided I didn’t care what the fallout was.
CHAPTER 14
VASILISA
My girls had never once shown signs of violence, but I fantasised about Sparrow and Serenity ripping off Artur’s face with their huge teeth, then knocking him to the floor where Damien and I could take turns stabbing him to death. I preferred my gun but I wasn’t above using a knife. Artur deserved to bleed. Deserved to choke on his own blood.
My brother hadn’t returned in hours, probably wanting me eaten alive by fear. Instead, as the night grew lighter, closer to morning, I let rage fill every bone in my body. I broke every single thing in the disgustingly frilly bedroom and it feltgood.I used part of a broken chest of drawers to smash the lamp base, then used part ofthatto rip open the pillows and duvet until I was surrounded by wreckage.
I should have saved my energy, but the outburst helped preserve my sanity. Every time I looked at the mess, I smiled and thought about killing Artur. Sometimes I fantasised aboutshooting my brother myself. Other times I would watch while Damien pulled his body apart, limb from limb, until Artur was screaming for mercy he’d never receive. He didn’t deserve mercy; he deserved hell.
Now, I sat on the mattress I’d carved slashes into, my eyes fixed on the door and my gun in my hand. Whoever came through that door was dead. I had a gun full of bullets and I’d flicked the safety off an hour ago. I didn’t care that I was shaking and cold all over; it wouldn’t stop me pulling the trigger.
By the time the sun rose, I heard more than one voice downstairs. Either the slimy man who abducted me had returned or Finch and his men finally arrived. At least it wasn’t Dad. He could never hurt me again.
Another smile crossed my face and I repeated my mantra.
“You’re Vasilisa Marshall.”
I jumped when a slam came from downstairs—the front door—and a minute later, pissed-off footsteps thundered up the staircase. My heart leapt into my throat. I shook harder, but I lifted my gun and trained it on the door.
