Page 157 of Sinful Crown


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What he says makes sense, and I nod in understanding.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He unties my hands, and once they are free, I wiggle them around, trying to get the circulation back into them. “When we’re out—”

The sound of the door flying open has me flinching. Light streams in from the hallway. It’s blinding against the dark room.

Heavy shoes approach, and I realize it’s the man who wants what Roman stole again.

Shit.

He’ll kill Matt for trying to break me out. At that moment, Matt rushes toward him, but he’s too slow. There are too many men, and he can’t possibly fight them all off.

My fear becomes reality as they quickly overpower my friend.

I watch in horror as one punches him in the face, and then he’s thrust onto his knees.

A kick to the ribs.

The sound that emanates from Matt’s mouth makes my body tremble with chills.

“Stop! You’re going to kill him.”

Dima Markov steps forward, gun in hand. “That’s the point.”

He aims the gun at the back of Matt’s head. “Where is my money?”

“I don’t have it,” I cry out.

He cocks the gun. The click echoes inside me like a freight train. “I promise. I don’t know.”

“His death is on your hands.”

“No. Please. I don’t know. I don’t know. Please—”

A deafening boom slices through the air, ripping a sob from my throat. I feel like I’m being torn apart. Sob after sob pours out of me.

“Talk!”

The gun points at me. “I don’t know anything.” Tears stream down my face.Time passes, and my eyes screw shut as I wait to die, but after a minute, nothing happens, and my lids flutter open.

“It was worth a try,” a familiar voice says, and I shake my head in confusion as Matt gets up from where his body was lying on the floor only a few seconds prior. I blink as he stands to his full height, spitting blood onto the floor.

He’s not dead. I move toward him, but then, like a vise is locked around my body, I stop myself, his words echoing in my head.Worth a try.

What was worth a try?

That’s when I take in Matt’s body language. The way he stands upright, rolls his shoulders back, and steps toward Dima.

I look back and forth between the two men, “I-I don’t—”

“Don’t understand,” Matt finishes.

“This whole time you were—what is this?”

“Working with the Russians, yep, trying to find the money your idiot of a brother stole. You would have been my prize too, once I found it.” He leers at me, and I feel sick.

My mouth is dry, and my head is reeling.

Matt, my friend, is working with them? And I—I was going to be given to him wrapped up in what—a fucking bow!

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