Nika.
Images of the last several days flash through my mind. Fighting her in the parking garage, at the hotel, at her house. Feeding her grilled cheese and tomato soup. Sparring in the basement. Her tending to my injuries.
She understands my pain because she’s just as broken as I am.
I’m done thinking.
With a roar of frustration, I shove Dimitri away. He hits the ground, clutching his broken arm. Though pain contorts his face, he nods, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
Electricity jolts through me as every muscle convulses, locking my body tight even as I fall over.
Another pop.
The fucker tased me.
Another surge blurs my vision, and I drop to the floor, convulsing.
Everything distills to white-hot misery.
A steel-toed boot connects with my ribs, radiating agony through my torso. Another blow comes down on my knee, and a third lands right below my kidney.
Someone kicks me in the mouth, and I taste copper. I cling to the rage trying to burst free. It will keep me warm, my heart beating, and my thoughts focused as I endure this momentary setback.
They’ll all pay in spades.
The taser ends, but the kicking continues.
Curling up, I use my hands to protect my head as best I can. One of them kicks at my back and legs, trying to weaken me until I come out of my protective stance.
Nika, who’s bound on the floor a few feet away, screams for them to stop.
The world blurs at the edges, anguish beginning to overwhelm even my well-calloused nerves. The men continue their assault. Boot tread rips at the flesh of my arms and catches my ear.
“Enough.” Dimitri towers over me, gasping for breath.
Blood trickles down from his face, adding copper to the bloody rust already assaulting my nose. I want to reach out, grab his ankle, and snap his leg.
But if I retaliate, Nika dies.
“Well, that was unexpectedly messy.” With a quivering hand, Dimitri wipes the corner of his mouth. “Time to get to work.”
Chapter 35
Nika
I hate zip ties.
Those assholes bound my arms and feet, leaving me sitting on the cold floor of the lodge.
Max has it worse, though. They’ve used zip ties to hog-tie him so he’s stretched back, his head nearly to the soles of his boots. Then Pavel and Anton picked him up and dumped him outside in the snow like an old piece of furniture.
He could die slowly of asphyxiation, blood loss, or exposure.
At least he’s still wearing his parka.
I trusted these men with my life. And here they are, staring down at me, no hint of shame on their expressions after their betrayal. The man who should have been my enemy bleeds on the ground behind them because he sacrificed himself for me.
These men should be racked by guilt. Eaten alive. Choking on the misery and drowning in pain and confusion, like I am.
