Page 2 of Cruel Submission

Kostya’s voice. His hand reaching for the bus door.

Another sob rips out of me.

“Mira?” Diane’s voice seeps through the door. “I’m right here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

I force myself to breathe. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

Again.

Again.

The shaking slows. I push to my feet and grip the sink for balance. I feel wrecked. Hair tangled, eyes swollen and red-rimmed, bruises blooming on my arms and throat. There’s a cut on my palm from when I kicked the van doors open.

You’re alive, Mirabel.

I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. It stings the scrapes on my palms, but I need the shock of it.

A bath. Right.

I strip off my torn clothes, my shirt ripped at the shoulder, my jeans split at the knee. Evidence. I turn on the water, adjust the temperature until it’s almost scalding.

Steam fills the room. I lower myself in slowly, hissing as the heat touches my battered skin.

Then I’m submerged, and the water closes over me. For the first time in hours, I can breathe.

I lean my head back and close my eyes.

I focus on my breathing again until time begins to blur. I don’t know how long I stay in the bath. Long enough for the water to cool. Long enough for my fingers to prune.

When I finally drag myself out, wrapped in an oversized towel, Diane’s built a nest of blankets on the couch. There’s tea steaming on the coffee table.

“Come here.”

I sink into the couch and let her tuck the blankets around me. The tea is chamomile—sweet and floral. I wrap my hands around the mug.

Diane settles beside me, knee pressed against mine. “Mirabel.” Her voice is gentle. “Talk to me. What the hell is happening?”

I take a sip. The heat spreads through my chest. But there’s no easy way to say this.

“Dad’s back in the hospital.” My voice comes out hollow. “Treatment failed. He collapsed.”

Her face goes pale. “Oh, Mira—”

“And today I was at his house. Waiting for a ride.” I swallow. “Three men grabbed me. They put something over my face… knocked me out. When I woke up, I was in a van.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“They were taking me to Dubai.” The words scrape out. “I heard them. They said the name Gavriil Laurov.”

Diane’s brow furrows. “Who?”

“My boss’s dad.”

She stares at me. “Why would—?”

“I don’t know.” I close my eyes. “But I kicked the van doors open in traffic. I ran. One of them chased me. A guy called Kostya. I got on a bus, but he—” My hands shake. Tea sloshes over the rim. “He almost caught me. The driver hit the gas just in time.” I swallow hard. “Luckily, there was a nurse on the bus who gave me money to get a cab to you. Otherwise, I don’t know where I would have ended up.”

Diane takes the mug from me and sets it down. Then she pulls me close. “You’re safe now. You’re here.”