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“Marika.” I listen for any sound in the room, anything that might tell me what she’s doing. If she’s crying, showering, packing, pacing the room—even the sound of shifting bedsprings that might tell me that she’s sleeping. But there’s nothing.
And after a moment, I start to worry about worse things. Darker things.
The window is too high up to escape out of—but if she were desperate enough, she might try. If she wanted to throw me off by telling me she’d leave tomorrow morning, when she planned to run away now. She might not care if she made it down in one piece. Or—
I can’t think what else might have happened. The idea that Marika might have hurt herself intentionally because of all of this is too much to bear. I would never be able to forgive myself if that’s what all of this wrought.
I would certainly never forgive Nikolai.
When she doesn’t answer when I call out for her twice more, and I still hear no sounds from inside the room, I don’t have a choice. The doors in this house are heavy wood, and it’s not easy to kick it open, but there’s enough rage and frustration left in me that it’s not as hard as it could have been, either. I slam my foot against the door until it cracks open, shoving it far enough to get inside, and I look wildly around the room.
There’s no sign of Marika. The room is empty and silent. There are no signs of her packing—her suitcases aren’t even out, and the bed is smooth and still made-up. She wasn’t taking a nap.
I don’t hear the sound of the shower running, but I burst into the bathroom anyway, heedless of any privacy she might need. It doesn’t matter—it’s empty too.
When I turn around, that’s when I see it—the open window on the far side of the bedroom. I know before I go to stand in front of it that I’ll see footsteps in the mud below, leftover from the rain that fell last night. What I expect is to see Marika’s—small, barefoot prints.
What I see instead are heavy boot tracks, and a rut next to them, as if someone was dragged along.
Turning sharply on my heel, I rush down the stairs. I’m shouting Finn’s name before I even get to the front door, yelling it on the stoop like a madman. He comes around the corner, brow creased in confusion, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. It probably seems that I have.
“What the hell is going on, boss?”
I catch my breath, feeling a heavy fear spread through me. “Marika is gone. Where’s Adrik?”
Marika
Of all the possibilities that I might have imagined between what occurred in Theo’s office and now,thiswas never one of them.
I never pictured myself being dragged away by Adrik, still strong enough to do so despite the torture he’s clearly endured, wearing black cargo pants and a t-shirt clearly stolen, since they’re a little big even on his brawny frame. I never imagined him ignoring my pleas for him to let me go, his broad hand wrapped in my hair as he shoves me towards a weathered Jeep and jingles the keys in his other hand.
“Adrik, what are you doing—”
“Shut up,” he snarls, pushing me into the back seats and slamming the door before getting into the driver’s side, engaging a lock that I’m sure includes the child lock, so there’s no chance of me throwing open the door and flinging myself out. “We’ll talk when we get out of here.”
“If you’re trying to rescue me, this is only going to make things worse—” I don’treallythink he’s trying to rescue me—his handling of me clearly says otherwise—but I’m trying to give him an out, a chance to rethink whatever he’s actually up to and claim that was his plan. “Just let me go, and I’ll go back to the house. I’ll tell Theo I went out for a walk—”
“You’re not telling Theo shit.” His mouth twists into an angry grimace as he says it, as if saying Theo’s name hurts him. Maybe it does. It would be hard to blame him, honestly. “You’reminenow, Marika. And this time,I’llbe the one who decides whatIdo with you.”
A cold chill runs down my spine. I’d known he would be angry—he has a right to be angry, just as Theo has a right to be angry with him…no one has any clear case for right or wrong in this mess—but a horrible possibility enters my mind, that this is no longer about Adrik having feelings for me, or what feelings I might have for him. That we might be past all of that now, and all that’s left is a man using me to get vengeance on another man, now that he better understands what I mean to Theo.
Or at least, what Imeantto him.
“How did you get away?” I whisper, clinging to the edge of the seat with my fingernails as Adrik takes a hard left, driving faster than he should. I’m grateful that he didn’t drug me, at least—or even tie me up. I’m surprised, and I can’t help wondering how long it will last. I don’t know where he’s taking me, and I’m afraid to find out. “He had you under guard—”
“He did,” Adrik says, his voice a low, angry rasp. I can hear a difference in the cadence of his speech, no doubt from what Theo did to his mouth, the missing teeth, and the swelling left behind. “But half of them were busy cleaning up after that little porno that Theo directed up in his office.” I don’t miss the disgust in his voice as he says it, or the way he looks at me in the rearview mirror, as if it’smethat disgusts him now. “And the ones still watching me assumed I was so hurt anddrainedafter that little performance that they didn’t need to be as careful as they were before.” He snickers, his lip curling. “They were fucking wrong. Soon as they uncuffed me to chain me up to the wall in that outbuilding Theo was having them keep me in, I took them down. Got one of them stripped so I wouldn’t be running around bare-assed. And I came after you.”
Much like his promise in Ireland that he was watching me, those last wordsshouldsound romantic. Once upon a time, maybe they might have. But now, all I hear is the anger in them, the threat.
“Where are you taking me?” I whisper, and Adrik chuckles, a low and bitter sound.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
He drives into the south part of Chicago, past rundown streets and condemned buildings. I shrink back into the seat, knowing that this can’t be good.
“Adrik, please—” I say softly, leaning forward. I’m not above begging for him not to do whatever he has planned now. After what happened in the office, I have no dignity left to lose. And I don’t know if I can take much more of the kind of hurt that’s been meted out to me over the past few days.
He doesn’t say a word. He backhands me without even turning to look, the movement so casually cruel that the cry I let out isn’t so much out of pain—though it does hurt—as the shock of it. Adrik has been angry with me before, but he’s never struck me. I almost can’t believe he did now—but I think back to the scene in the office, the hatred on his face as he looked at me, as he watched Theo fuck me. Not just hatred for Theo, but forme.
