Page 144 of Barinov

The fucker didn’t have to jab me this time, but he did anyway. Said he needed two rounds of protection since I’m going to see the enemy or some shit. Like I’d ever dare to run with this collar on in the first place.

Like I’d ever willingly run without my sister.

Asshole.

Things have gone to complete shit in Eden ever since Bella tried to let her boyfriends know where Luca’s hiding us. After he turned the cameras off, the bastard flipped our collars back on full blast for what felt like hours.

Though it could have only been a few minutes, otherwise we’d both be dead by now.

Bella screamed so loud it almost shattered my eardrums. I made it to my feet and got one good punch to his jaw before he shoved a gun between my eyes.

I thought he was going to end it right there, but he didn’t.

He said he needed to teach us a lesson. Needed to teach her a lesson. Not sure what lesson she could possibly learn by watching a lunatic laugh while he punches the shit out of her brother’s face. Or how that was supposed to help her remember who she is and fall in love with the fuck.

Thankfully, my little sister is quite the actress. By the time he reared back for the third punch, she put on her best Izzy impersonation. Fell to her knees in tears about how sorry she was for forgetting him again. That she was trying so hard. That she’ll do better, blah, blah, blah.

Dirtbag bought it. He always does.

I haven’t seen her since then. He dragged me downstairs, drugged me, and locked me in the dark like I was just something to be stored. The only interaction with anyone I’ve had is when Ivan saunters down the stairs, all pompous and smug, and throws me a sandwich and water bottle like I’m some kind of animal. He’ll joke about her. About what she’s doing.

What they’re doing.

I hate it, being powerless. Being fucking useless at keeping my sister safe.

So, when Luca came down this morning and told me I had an errand to run—that it could earn me some time back with Bells—I jumped at the opportunity. Anything to get out of the basement.

“What the hell happened in there?” Ivan mumbles through a mouthful of a greasy cheeseburger. His beady eyes watch me as I slide into the front seat.

“It’s Ellie,” I mutter, rubbing my arm. “She has it on her.”

“Your point?” the fuckface asks. “Don’t tell me you still have a hard on for her.”

I gape at him. “My point,” I seethe. “Is that not only does Ellie have the necklace on her, but the place is crawling with Black Books, Bratva, and Italian mafia. Hell, even Tex’s ass perched up in a sniper’s nest. All of them locked and loaded and just fucking waiting for someone to make a move.”

“And?”

“And!” I pull out the Glock from my back holster and rip the magazine out. “You sent me in there with a bulletless weapon and zero backup. Not to mention the fact that I’m barely able to walk or see straight from whatever you assholes pumped into my veins.”

I shove the magazine back in the gun. “How the fuck am I supposed to get that necklace?”

“You’re supposed to be some sort of genius, right?” Ivan starts. He pulls up his sleeve and takes a quick glance at his watch before turning toward me. “Figure it out because you’ve got less than two hours before you need the antidote. And you aren’t getting it until that ruby is in my hand.”

“Fine,” I sigh, running my hand over my jaw. “Give me your phone. I’ve got an idea.”

“No chance in hell,” he laughs. “You think I’m that stupid?”

“Do you want the ruby or not?!” I yell, banging my fist into the center console. “I need to get her separated from the group and the only way I can do that is by getting her a message.”

Reluctantly, he starts to hand it over, but stops himself before my fingertips can touch it. “If you try any funny business, I will personally make your sister watch while I bleed you dry, you understand me?”

“Whatever.” I nod, ripping the phone from his grip. I open the app, scroll down until I find the account, and pause.

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” I reply, tapping my finger on the back of the phone. “Just trying to figure out what to say.”

“Lean it toward me,” Ivan mutters. I nearly gag at the smell of onion on his breath as it hits me in the face. “I’ve gotta watch you.”