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My breaths burst over my dry lips as Kazuo walks closer. Just reacting, I kick my leg out, but he catches it with a chuckle.
“Hold her,” he instructs the other two men, and they instantly come closer. One grabs my thigh, and the other takes hold of my free leg.
I wiggle and struggle like a possessed person as Kazuo brings the pliers to my manicured small toe.
“No,” I scream. Overwhelming frustration and hopelessness pour into me as he grips hold of the nail.
I press my lips together, and shutting my eyes, I try to find a safe space.
My mind goes to Misha and me sitting in a crate and everything he’s taught me, but it’s too late for the memory to take hold, and an agonizing scream rips from me as my nail is torn off.
My mind reels from the cruelty and pain, and I desperately gasp for air as icy chills rush over my skin.
Kazuo lets out an amused chuckle before he moves on to the next toe.
My muscles clench, and I try so freaking hard to pry my foot from his brutal hold, but it only makes his fingers dig into my skin.
I clench my jaw as hard as I can to keep from screaming. The pain is too much when he rips the second nail off and sobs explode from me.
I must’ve bitten my tongue because the taste of blood fills my mouth.
Misha! I can’t hold out for much longer. I’m going to lose my mind.
Chapter 37
Misha
Just as we pull up to the bottom end of the trainyard and climb out of the SUVs, another motor brigade speeds toward us.
“Khristos,” Alek mumbles as he raises his submachine gun, taking aim.
“Wait,” I mutter. Stepping forward, I hold my weapon ready as I watch the first vehicle come to a skidding stop.
Caruso D’Angelo and Emilio Sartori climb out of the backseats, their weapons in their hands.
Blyad', just what I fucking need right now.
“I’m here for Aurora,” I yell. “We can face off after the girls are safe.”
It takes a second too long before he nods. “Our daughters come first.”
Reluctantly, I nod.
When the women are safe, I’ll have to deal with the two men. Today there will either be a truce or bodies will drop.
I glance at Armani. “Take two men and stay behind D’Angelo and Sartori. If they make a move on us, kill them.”
He nods, and gesturing at two guards, he heads toward the enemy.
D’Angelo walks closer. “One wrong move, and you’re dead.”
Is that supposed to scare me?
“Same counts for you,” I mutter as I turn around and head toward the parked wagons and carriages.
On guard, I peek through the open spaces between the wagons, and seeing a flash of black, I quickly pull back and gesture for everyone to stop walking.
I turn my head to Caruso, and with barely veiled hate, I mutter, “To our left.”
