I let out a frustrated breath. “So, again Illyin sent you instead of coming to talk to me himself?” I huff.
“Is that a yes or a no, Izabel?” Starke grumbles.
“It’s a no. I am not going with you. I refuse to let my brother manhandle me and rule my life. He could have come to speak to me himself if he knew where I was…which clearly, he does. And then we could have had a conversation like normal people….”
I’m still busy lecturing Starke when one of the other guys comes behind me and lifts me right off my feet, flinging me over his shoulder.
I scream in horror, kicking and punching the guy.
“Put me down right now!” I yell.
“Should we gag her?” the other guy asks.
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Might be a good idea,” Starke says.
“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare!” I scream louder.
“Bring the car around,” Stare says into a walkie-talkie. Static responds. Then someone says, "Two minutes."
Two minutes.
Two minutes to escape. To figure this out. To get away.
Two minutes until they drag me away, and Anton has no idea where I ended up, and my brother might never ever let me out of his sight again.
Two minutes.
Panic surges.
My brain starts doing wild laps trying to figure out a way to get them to put me down, but I already know they won’t.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes.
I’m not in danger. Not like that. They won’t harm me—but they will rip me away from everything about my life that I was falling in love with. They will rip me away from my freedom, from the place I was starting to view as my home…and from Anton.
“Please,” I sob. “Please don’t do this. Let me call Illyin right now. Let me speak to him on the phone.”
“Put her down,” Anton’s voice snarls from behind him.
Starke spins to face him. I look up from where I’m dangling, and my face floods with relief. Then panic.
“Anton, no, they’ll shoot you!” I yelp.
But as I say it, I see movement on my left and right and realize he isn’t alone.
I don’t know how or why, but he is here with a full team of guards. Ten, eleven, twelve men…I can’t count from where I’m dangling over this man’s shoulder.
“Starke?” the man carrying me says, waiting for orders.
“Fuck!” Starke snarls, not wanting to accept that he’s heavily outnumbered.
“Put her the fuck down,” he snaps. The man lets me slide down his body until my feet are on the ground. He steps away with his hands raised as I glare angrily at him.
A vehicle arrives behind them, and Starke starts backing up towards it. “This isn’t over,” he growls, looking at Anton, not at me.
“Yes, it is!” I blurt out. “Tell Illyin to stop this and speak to me like a normal person!”
