“That wasn’t very nice, hellcat.” Andriani tsks like I’m a little kid who just talked out of turn in class. “What’s the saying? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you?”
He releases his hold on my throat and grabs my shirt. For a split second, I think he’s going to tear it off, and I tense, ready for whatever he’s going to do to me. But then he lifts the soft cotton to his face and uses it to wipe the spit from his cheek.
Without another word, he rolls off me and walks out the door.
I stare at it, hearing the lock turn.
I’m alone. It’s quiet and damp, and the room smells faintly of mildew. I see a spider on the wall in the corner, slowly inching its way to the ceiling. I have no idea what game Andriani is playing with me or what’s going to happen next.
All I do know for certain is that he’s a crazy bastard, and I’m not going to make it out of this hellhole without spilled blood.
Whether it’s his or mine is anyone’s guess.
Katya
Judgingfrom the lone window on the opposite end of the room, it’s dark outside this hovel, and I’m cold, thirsty, and hungry.
It’s also quiet.
So quiet that I’m not sure if Andriani left me here alone. Maybe that’s his intention. He’s going to let me starve to death here. Die chained to a bed. Then he’ll take a picture of my body and send it to Misha to show him how I suffered a slow, agonizing death.
I don’t know what time it is or where I am. All I do know is that I’m trapped and at the mercy of a madman. I’ve been torn from the precious world I’ve worked so hard to build for myself, where I stupidly imagined I was insulated from the life of crime my brothers have chosen. Torn from my co-workers, from my responsibilities, from my work as a ballerina, which has been the sole driving force in my life.
So far, I’ve managed to regain enough strength to make it to the bathroom to pee. Andriani wasn’t wrong about the handle, but that’s the only thing I’ll ever give him credit for.
I’ve tried everything I can think of to break this damn chain on my ankle, but nothing has worked. I’m on my knees on the subflooring, too desperate to care about the splinters going into my skin through my jeans, trying to make as little noise as possible.
I’ve switched tactics.
My first instinct was to be loud. To shout, to scream, to threaten. To scratch and claw and hiss like the feral cat he accused me of being. But that still ended up with me here, chained to a bed in the middle of nowhere, at the mercy of Andriani.
So now it’s time for Plan B, which is get the chain off the bed.
Not an easy feat so far. The chain is heavy and thick. The bed frame is wrought iron, and it’s bolted to the floor. I’m not going to allow that to stop me. I’m slowly wearing down the floor withthe chain, dragging it quietly across the same spot repeatedly. My goal is to loosen up the connection between the bed frame and the floor just enough so that I can slip the chain off the leg of the bed.
“As much as I like you on your knees, you may as well give up.”
At the low, disembodied sound of Andriani’s voice, I flinch and look up. The door is still closed. Which means there’s a camera somewhere in this room. One I didn’t notice or that isn’t readily visible.
The sick fuck has been watching me all this time.
Watching me and letting me get splinters in my knees. Ihatehim.
A roar of frustration bubbles up from inside me, and I let it free as I grab the chain and whip it against the floor.
“Didn’t your parents teach you that smashing things doesn’t solve any problems?”
I glare in the direction of his voice, the corner of the room diagonal to me, but I still can’t see a camera. There must be a hole in the drop-down ceiling that I can’t make out from here.
“Didn’t yours teach you not to abduct innocent women and chain them to beds?” I demand.
“Nope.”
He’s way too happy, this fucker. I’ve never killed a man. I’ve never wanted to be a part of the Bratva, to be like my family, to trade in blood and greed and death. But right now, I’m imagining what I’d do to Andriani. Bludgeoning might work, but it would ruin his pretty face. Shooting him would be messy, and carving up all that taut, muscled skin would be a sin.
“Poison,” I decide aloud.
“What about it?” He still sounds amused.
