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“I don’t understand. Who sold me?” I cry, dropping to my knees in front of him, begging he end this turmoil once and for all. “Please, tell me.”
Saint sighs, the first sign of emotion surfacing. He reaches forward and sweeps the hair from my brow. I hate myself because his touch, his kindness are what I crave, and I lean into him, wanting him to take away this pain. But what he says next just slashes at the already gaping wound. “Your husband.”
“What?”His touch suddenly feels like acid because I’ve been burned. I immediately recoil. “No.No,” I repeat, shaking my head wildly. “You lie.”
“No, I don’t. Your husband sold you to Popov because he’s a worthless piece of shit. You were always a pawn, his get out of jail for free card,” he presses, but I cover my ears, unable to listen to the deceit spilling from his lips.
“Willow—” When he attempts to touch me once again, I shrink back, falling onto my ass.
“Stop it!” I scream, my body shuddering. “I don’t want to hear any more.” Images of Saint beating Drew viciously assault me, and I remember thinking it seemed personal at the time. Could I have been right?
I’m drowning in tears as they flow freely with no end in sight. There must be some mistake. I know Drew. He would never do what Saint is proposing. He’s my husband, for god’s sake! What sort of monster would do that to his wife?
“Le-leave,” I whimper, choking on my stilted breaths, thumping my fist against the floor. This can’t be happening.
Saint comes to a slow stand, respecting my wishes. “I would never lie to you. Not about this.”
“I hate you,” I snarl, spit and tears running down my downturned chin. How dare he say such filth about Drew?
His trademark scent engulfs me, and I realize the only person I hate is myself. Dropping to a squat, he lifts my chin with a finger, pinning me with those eyes. “You wish that you did…but you don’t.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, ripping from his hold. He doesn’t know me.
I brace for punishment, but I receive a different sort of torture. Saint walks up the stairs, leaving me alone with this giant hole in my chest.
Only when I’m shrouded in darkness do I allow my guard to drop and weep ugly tears. I lie down on the cool floor and curl myself into a ball. There must be some mistake, a different sort of torture. Not physical, but emotional. Saint wanted to break me, but that doesn’t make any sense.
I did what he wanted.
Nothing makes any sense anymore.
I squeeze my eyes shut, closing myself off from this anguish because if what Saint says is true…then I truly am alone in this world.
I wake to someone sucking my big toe. Surely, there must be some mistake.
My eyes snap open, and when I see a bald dome at my feet, I know there is no mistake. I lower my head to the floor, muting my voiceless screams by shoving my fist into my mouth.
I passed out after Saint delivered the worst news of my life. My mind clearly needed to shut off from reality. I still don’t know what to believe. And now I wake to this—to Kazimir sucking my toe.
Gathering my courage, I peer around to see Saint passed out on his stomach on the lounge he once tied me to with a half-empty bottle of vodka hanging limply from his fingers. The other Russian sits slumped in a chair, snoring softly.
That just leaves me alone with Kazimir, who is clearly making good on his word to pay me back later when everyone is asleep. I focus on anything other than his lips kissing a trail from the top of my foot to over my ankle. He swirls his tongue along the bony ridge before licking his way upward.
I remain perfectly still because this is what I wanted—to exploit the weakest link—but with the way he’s slithering up my body, I can’t help but feel like I’m the one who’s being exploited. My legs tremble, and my stomach roils, wanting to be sick.
When I feel his wet tongue slurp at my inner thigh, I can’t pretend any longer. I shoot up, cupping his cheeks. His beard is coarse beneath my fingers. “Upstairs,” I whisper with doe eyes, hoping he falls for the innocent act.
His attention flicks back and forth between Saint and his other comrade, weighing the options, but he finally agrees. “Okay.”
I release him as the need to flee is more than overwhelming. He comes to a stand, ensuring to be quiet. I do the same.
I take one final look at Saint because regardless if what he told me is true or not, I need to get the hell off this boat. I need to look Drew in the eyes and ask him if he did what Saint said he did. Tears sting, but I quickly wipe them away.
Kazimir opens the hatch slowly, waving me to follow. It’s pitch black out, but the sliver of moon provides all the light I need. I ensure to close the hatch, desperate to place something on top of it so if one of my captors’ wake, they can’t follow.
But I don’t have time to do anything because the moment we’re alone, Kazimir is on me, his chest pressed to my back as he fondles my breasts and bites my neck. I fight my instinct to strike back and headbutt him, and instead, I go lax, eyes focused on the radio.
He speaks to me in Russian as I walk us deliberately toward the helm. He pinches my nipples as I’m still in my bathing suit and rubs his hard-on against my ass. I detach myself from my body as I continue leading us toward the radio.
