He reaches out and strokes my cheek with the back of his long, cold fingers. I shudder violently in response, my body recoiling from his touch.
“Why are you still so afraid of me?” he murmurs. “You know my touch so well, Myshka. You once enjoyed being my pet. Do not deny otherwise.”
…never. Not even for a second. I was, and am, terrified of you.
“Just end it,” I beg, voice barely above a whisper. “Put me out of my misery. I can’t do this anymore.”
He caresses my cheek softly like a lover. “I would never do that. Do you know why?”
I let silence answer him. I’m too shaky and sick to my stomach to even make an attempt.
“Because,” he goes on indifferently, “even the pain you feel is mine, Myshka. Every tear. Every scream. Every last moment of suffering. It all belongs to me.” His thumb traces along my bottom lip, slow and taunting. “I intend to extract every ounce of it from you myself.”
I close my eyes so not to be forced to look up at him. So he won’t see the tears misting my eyes and know the fear that lives in them.
But he can sense it anyway—it’s infected every part of me as he strokes my cheek and tells me so lovingly how he’ll make me suffer.
An alarm goes off and disrupts the moment. The loud blaring sounds out of nowhere, so shrill and jarring I flinch in place.
Fedorov’s head snaps toward the door, hisexpression hardening into cold fury. Through the crack in the door, guards zip past with their weapons.
They’re moving with a sense of urgency. As if an emergency situation has popped off.
There’s been a security breach.
Fedorov straightens, his hand falling away from my face. He turns from the bed and uses his cane to stride for the door.
“Do not fret, Myshka,” he says as he pauses a final time. “This interruption will not save you. Your fate has already been sealed.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Killian
We arriveat Fedorov’s property with no backup, no plan B, and no intention of leaving without Jhene.
The estate rises out of the darkness like an impenetrable fortress, and we’re here to tear it down.
The place is huge, sprawling far and wide, with high stone walls and security cameras mounted at every corner. Searchlights sweep through the dark at regular intervals, always on the lookout for intruders… or prey.
The house itself is made up of limestone, cold and gray and utilitarian.
One look at the place and I can tell men have disappeared here and nobody’s asked questions.
Lochlan crouches on my left, his gaze narrowed and focused on the perimeter. He wasn’t part of the original plan—there was no real plan—but he showed up once he found out what me and Aleksei were up to.
I owe him for this. For having my back even as his allegiance to the clan’s been rocky at best in recent times.
Aleksei’s on my other side. He’s studying the property in a way that’s different from us, searching for specific details. Hespent years as Fedorov’s soldier, walking these grounds, probably learning every entrance, exit, and blind spot in the security.
If anybody can get us inside, it’s him.
I should be in a ring at Madison Square Garden right now. Instead, I’m about to break into a Russian crime lord’s estate with nothing but my fists and two men crazy enough to follow me.
Some would call this a suicide mission. I call it the only option I’ve got.
I can’t go on with life knowing Jhene’s held prisoner. That she’s still in Fedorov’s clutches when she should be a free woman. She deserves that much, no matter what she’s done.
“There,” Aleksei mutters. He inclines his head toward a drainage grate set into the base of the wall. “Service entrance. It leads to the utility rooms under the main house. The guards rarely patrol it because they believe no one knows it exists.”
