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Chapter 10
“Wake up!”
Agony rips through my chest, drawing a gasp from my throat. Cool, damp air settles on my face—I must be lying on my back. My head throbs, and my hip is on fire.
“I said wake up,” someone snarls. “You little bitch! Look at me!”
My eyelids flutter as I struggle to piece together my surroundings.
Wherever I am, it’s dark. Faint light glosses over the hazy outlines of various shapes. One mass in particular looms over me. Tall. Bulky. A man.
But his voice…
It’s not Mischa’s.
“I said look at me!” Harsh fingers seize my chin, wrenching my gaze toward the figure. His face is familiar. Older. Stern. Dark hair.
A name flickers on the outskirts of my consciousness as a memory of him replays in my head. Him, sitting across from Mischa in a crowded room, while his son, Kostas, was declared a traitor.
“Nikolaus,” another man scolds, though I don’t recognize his gruffer tone. “If you’re going to kill her, do it already. We need to dump her body before Mischa realizes she’s gone. Dima said he kept her close. Too fucking close—”
“Kill her?” Nikolaus echoes, his teeth bared. “I’m going to make this little bitch suffer!”
“Use your head,” the other man interjects. “I get you want your revenge. But do you really want to fuck with Mischa? That motherfucker will have your head on a spike. Kill her quickly and he won’t be able to tie it to you.”
“Revenge?” Nikolaus shakes his head. “No!” Grunting, he kicks my hip, knocking me onto my side.
From this angle, I can only watch the muddied tips of his boots move in tandem. Every step echoes, and the air smells damp. Dank. A basement?
I strain my eyes to make out any defining details—and I barely see Nikolaus’s foot shoot out to kick me again. Hard. I choke back the scream surging up my throat, but a moan trickles out regardless. Breathing is the only way to regain my composure.In and out…
“This little bitch got my son turned into a fucking cripple,” Nikolaus rants between heavy pants. “I’m going to rip her apart and drench that whelp Mischa in her fucking blood.”
Crippled? Just what did Mischa do to him? Nausea roils through my stomach at the grisly possibilities—I don’t want to know.
“Do you know who this bitch is? Who she is really?” Nikolaus laughs, nudging my hip with the tip of his boot. “She was closer to the younger Winthorp than your precious Pakhan let on. Much closer. I know for a fact the bastard wants her back. Rumor is he even offered to trade his sister to Mischa. For this little cunt!”
Another blow draws a groan from my lips, which drowns out whatever he says next. A deafening surge of blood rushes against my eardrums. Bright colors paint my vision. Reds. Greens. Silvers.
Your ribs are broken,a small voice inside me whispers. That’s why each breath burns, taking ten times the usual effort.
“I’m not going to kill her,” Nikolaus says, his voice drifting back into focus. “I’m going to teach that bastard Mischa why he should never turn on his own fucking kind.”
Movement catches the corner of my eye. His boot. As if from miles away, I hear the stomach-churning crack of it connecting with something. Crunching.
Heat runs down my spine like a lance.Fire. My vision swims and tunnels; then all senses fade. The terrifying beauty of it is that I feel nothing—even though I’m painfully aware that one of my legs is dragging behind me as I try in vain to crawl away from the source of the assault. The scream that rips from me is more involuntary than anything—my body knows that something is horribly wrong.
“Run, you little bitch,” Nikolaus goads as I scrape at the concrete floor in a desperate bid for leverage.
My senses blur and memories meld into the present. I’m with Robert again. He went too far. Again. He’s toying with me—again.
Running from him will only buy me seconds. I need to plead. Beg. Lie at his mercy and pray to God that he’ll stop. Please stop! My lips are already moving to form the words.
“That fucking Mischa thinks he can treat my family like a whipped dog?”
Crunch. Crunch!The veil that shielded my nerves from pain gives way and I feel everything.Fire, burning agony…
My thoughts threaten to scatter the second I attempt to focus on it. So I don’t. Mischa. His name is like a trigger to all the emotions forbidden to Robert’s precious Elle. Hate. Rage. Survival. Above my thudding heartbeat, I can sense that Nikolaus is close, pacing once again.
