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“Go get in the shower,” my mother cajoles. “I’ll iron your dress and get it ready. We don’t have much time.”
“No,” I mutter softly. “We don’t.”
I pad into the bathroom and close the door behind me. Captivity is a state of mind. And I can feel the bars rising up around me.
I grab my necklace and look up at the sky, praying for a miracle.
“Help me,” I whisper. “Someone, please. If I don’t get out now, I never will.”
33
IVAN
I lie back and stare up at the ceiling. It’s impossible to sleep knowing Cora is in another bed.
On the phone with her, there was a moment where I imagined it was all real. Where the scene played out in my mind the way I wanted it to, with my hand doing all the work while Cora fell apart underneath me.
Then we had to hang up and the reality of my empty room came crashing down on me.
Based on what I overheard from the dinner conversation, we have mere weeks to get Cora out of Alexander McAllister’s house before she’s going to be married to Mikhail. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.
Since I can’t sleep anyway, I pull out my phone and open up the live audio feed.
Cora has been wearing the necklace to bed. In the silence of her room, I can hear the soft thud of her heartbeat and her deep, even breathing. It’s like white noise. The sound of her continued life, even if she isn’t with me, is calming.
I close my eyes and listen to her inhales and exhales, to the staticky murmurs as she shifts beneath the blankets or rolls over.
Slowly, I settle. My eyes close and I match her breathing pace, letting my body sink into the mattress and drift closer to sleep.
Then the peace shatters.
There is banging and voices. Cora is panting and panicked. I’m out of bed and slipping into pants before I even know what is happening.
Whatever it is, it’s wrong.
Screw the thoroughly drawn-out plan and the mitigation of risks. Fuck it all.
I’m going after her.Now.
Cora is talking to her mom, but I know there are more people there. I can hear it in Cora’s voice that there is a bigger threat.
Finally, that threat reveals itself.
“If you can’t control your daughter, then I will,” Mikhail spits.
I clench my teeth as I tear through the mansion towards the security wing. Since Jorden has all but recovered, Yasha has taken to sleeping in the security wing of the house. He has been monitoring the situation here with Francia and working with me in every spare second to map out exactly how to get in and out of Alexander McAllister’s mansion with Cora in tow without getting anyone killed.
“It’s actually great news,” Mikhail continues. “You and I are getting married. Tonight.”
It takes all of my restraint not to hurl my phone at the wall.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Tonight.
For all I know, there’s a minister standing directly behind him, paperwork in hand. This wedding could be seconds or hours away, I have no idea.
But that doesn’t change the goal: I need to get to Coranow.
