Page 158

The throbbing in my head is what drags me back to consciousness, and when I look around, my gaze collides with nothing but darkness, too thick to make sense of.

Disoriented and unable to comprehend where I am, my thoughts slip through my grasp, and I sink back into a hazy limbo.

A boot nudges my leg causing me to open my eyes and I squint as light hits my face peeking through the small window too close to the ceiling.

I look around and find bars around me, thick metal bars, keeping me in a cage and when I look up, my breathing stops.

Sergei’s scarred back fills my vision, as I gawk at his abuser towering over me.

“Good, you’re awake, golden bird.” Vasily grumbles looking down at me as if I’m dust beneath his shoe. “Can the black eye heal before the auction?” He nods at me before turning away.

A huge chair drags against the concrete, stopping next to him and the arsehole plops down, his left ankle resting atop his right knee and I look at another man stalking in my direction.

I scramble back, my shorts riding up with the movement, and both their gazes flicker to my legs before my back hits the metal rods, trapping me in place.

He crouches in front of me without a word, a white coat draped over his shoulders, a large silver briefcase clutched in his hands.

Thick spectacles sit high on the bridge of his nose as he calmly opens it, rummaging through its contents with practised precision.

His hand shoots forward and I hide my face in my arms before he jerks them apart, grabbing hold of my chin. He inspects my eye, his own squinting to study me under the dim light.

“I don’t think so, the swelling should go down in a day or two, but the bruising will last a week at most.” He dabs something under my eye unaffectionately. “She’ll need makeup.”

“Do I look like I run a beauty pageant? Where the fuck am I supposed to get makeup?” Vasily growls in a thickly accented voice, his gaze cutting towards me like a blade.

“Well, maybe don’t hit them in the face next time.” The doctor snaps back, his fingers tightening around the briefcase. “She’ll need makeup if you want her to go for millions.”

“Why, I thought that mane itself is worth billions.” His gaze assessing me, the glare turning into lust as he licks his bottom lips and I recoil in disgust.

“I bet my son does, doesn’t he, golden bird?” He chuckles and my entire frame vibrates with dread.

Go for millions?

What do they mean by that?

“I’m going to kill you.” I manage, but the words come out hollow, dulled by the sharp ache in my chest that makes every breath a struggle, my body trembling despite myself.

“Oh, yeah?” he laughs, the sound deep and mocking, filling the room as I curl in on myself, folding into the smallest shape I can, shrinking under the weight of his predatory gaze.

“I’m not supposed to hit you, but I can surely fuck you.” He adds, pushing himself up from the chair. His belly juts forward as he steps closer, and my instincts scream—hide, hide, hide.

My hands tremble, breaths breaking into short, uneven gasps as my vision blurs with tears I can’t hold back.

The moment his hand brushes my bare shoulder, the very hands that hurt Sergei, and something in me snaps.

I lunge, nails driving straight for his eyes, clinging to him as my legs lock around his waist, fingers digging in hard enough to make him roar.

I want to kill him. He hurt Sergei.

My Sergei.

“No one touches my Sergei.” I hiss through gritted jaw. “How fucking dare you touch him?” I spit, my saliva landing on his dull, brown hair.

“Fucking slut, get off me.” He roars, but I don’t hear him. The rushing of blood in my ear is too loud to comprehend my surroundings.

The murderous intent almost popping my veins with its ferocity in my blood.

He thrashes, trying to shake me off, but I hold on, fuelled by panic and desperation.