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“Stop,” Danil yells.
The guy chuckles and releases my neck. I sputter and cough, clutching my throat. Large gulps of oxygen fill my lungs. I wilt, slumping over like a rag doll. He keeps me firm in his grasp, using me as a shield because he knows it’s the only way to escape this room without getting shot up like Swiss cheese.
He locks me against his chest once again and drags me toward the door. I drop my gaze to Hadeon, letting out a shaky breath when I see his foot wiggle the tiniest bit.
He’s alive. I don’t know how badly he’s hurt, but he’s breathing and moving.
Panicked thoughts race through my head, colliding into each other like bumper cars on a racetrack. My entire family is under siege right now. How am I going to save us all?
How the hell am I the key?
Blood ices in my veins as the man’s next cryptic words attack my ears.
“I could kill you, Malikov. Right here, right now. But I won’t because I still need you.” His deep voice is scratchy and gruff, probably from years of smoking those disgusting cigars that make his breath reek. “Deliver this message. My name is Adrian Ivanova. Your family killed my brother Emil. My other brother Branko and I are back to avenge his death. If they’re smart, they should be scared shitless of what I have planned for them. And you.” He pauses. “Make sure they get every word.”
Adrian grazes the side of my face with his gun, his stank breath hot against my ear. “Here’s how this is gonna go, princess. You’re going to walk next to me once we leave this room. If you make a move, flash a look, or yell for help, I will make a call and have your baby butchered with a paring knife.”
“Please, no,” I rasp. A sob lodges in my sore throat. Daniela, like me, was plunged into this hell because of decisions made for her. I can’t make one that will sacrifice her life.
Danil’s face blurs when I capture his tortured gaze. The stakes of this game just went up a million-fold with the threat of death to Daniela.
Justice and death.
I know deep in my heart he will torch the earth to keep her safe. That, at least, brings me a sliver of comfort.
Justice and death.
He will collect on both.
My shoulders quake as Adrian pulls me toward the door, my legs like limp spaghetti noodles. He walks backward, his menacing glare on Danil and his useless gun. “Keep your mouth shut, Lola,” he mutters, grasping the door handle in his hand and twisting it.
My lips quiver. “Save Daniela,” I mouth to Danil. “Save Hades.”
The door opens and Adrian guides me into the desolate hallway. The performance begins in two hours. How the hell is nobody wandering the halls? Not a single rent-a-cop? Can the “hidden” security the Malikovs hired even see me being taken by this guy, since nobody is making a move to help?
“Stop crying,” Adrian hisses. “There will be plenty of time for tears later.”
I blink fast to keep the tears from flowing. My eyes scour the quiet area for a doorway or a weapon. But déjà vu hits me like a brick to the chest, and suddenly, I’m shuttled back to that night, crushed against a marble column with Adrian holding up a knife in front of my face.
Fear washes over me, catapulting me into the tumultuous surf. The force plunges me into a swirling curl of uncertainty and angst.
If I make one move, Daniela is dead. He could be bluffing, but I won’t take that chance. I can’t.
“Where are you taking me?” I say in a low voice as he nudges me toward the doorway I entered with Danil only a little while earlier. “To see my brother and uncle?”
He doesn’t answer, only gripping my arm tighter in response.
“At least tell me how I’m the key to your plan. I have a right to know what you’re using me for.”
“Your father should have thought long and hard before crossing me and my brothers. And because he didn’t cooperate, you’re going to open the doors to the kingdom for us instead.” He leans in close, my skin prickling as his words hum against my skin. “Only then will your job be finished. Ask another question and your death will go from merciful to excruciatingly painful.”
Adrian pushes open the door that leads to the underbelly of the parking garage. The roar of an engine and squeal of tires startles me. I jump back when a massive blacked-out truck peels around a corner and skids to a stop right next to Danil’s Range Rover.
He pulls open the back door. “Get in.”
I step onto the running board and slowly climb into the backseat. The interior is dark. My eyes roam over the back area until they collide with my brother Petro’s bloody and swollen ones.
“Petro.” My voice cracks. I choke on a thick knot of tears as I scamper across the leather seat toward him and grab his hand. His head lolls in my direction like his neck has just given up on controlling its movement. I grasp his cold hand, the knuckles, scraped and scratched. “What the fuck have you done to him?” I scream, lacing my fingers with his limp ones.
