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The thoughts jumble up inside my mind as he groans. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re wet for me,” he growls against my flesh. “And youshouldget wet, for your own good—because before I leave this room, Marika, I’m going to fuck that tight little asshole. Theo hasn’t done that, has he? Too worried about getting an heir.” His teeth bite harder against my shoulder. “I’ve been the first in the other two holes, and I intend to be the first in that one, too.”
It’s at that moment that I know I’m going to try to kill him.
He can’t have that, too.
When he presses against me, his clothes rubbing against my bare flesh as he tries to angle his cock into my unwelcoming pussy, I wait. I wait for him to be so focused on trying to get inside of me, spitting on his hand to lube himself a little, grunting with frustrated effort, that he’s not paying attention.
I close my eyes and hope that my one chance will be enough.
And I grab for the knife.
My hand closes around the hard, rough handle, yanking it free. I have milliseconds to strike. I want to stab him in the fucking dick, but that won’t be enough. I’m chained, and as soon as he moves away, that’s it. I need to stab where it will do the most damage.
So I go lower.
I snatch the knife, sliding down the wall a little, and I wrench my head around to get the best chance of seeing where my blow will land as I stab for his inner thigh, as hard as I possibly can.
Flesh is harder to cut through than you’d realize. I remember hearing that somewhere, and I lurch back as I stab, throwing my weight into it as I drive the blade into his upper thigh, through canvas fabric and skin, near the inside, and drag the serrated edge upwards with every bit of strength I possess.
It takes me a moment to register his ragged, furious scream of pain, but when I do, it’s the most satisfying thing I’ve ever heard. The feeling that rushes through me is pure adrenaline, euphoria, as I twist around so my back is to the wall again and watch as Adrik presses his hands against the wound that is spurting blood.
I hit the artery. It was my best chance, and I did it. I—
“Fucking—suka—” he snarls, snatching the knife free of his thigh, and running at me. I shrink back, dodging to one side just in time, and the knife hits the brick as he starts to wobble, his skin paling as he stumbles to one side.
“I’ll kill you,” he hisses, ice-blue eyes staring at me with hatred, but it’s too late. I clench my fists in the shackles as he crawls backward, his breathing labored, and I hear his guttural, dark laugh as he slumps back, his chest heaving as he sucks in for air.
“No, I thinkI’vekilledyou,” I whisper, unable to understand why he’s laughing—what could possibly be funny to him right now. What he could possibly find amusing—
And then, as I watch the life drain from his eyes as he slumps against the far wall, I realizeexactlywhat it was, when I see the carabiner of keys hanging from the other side of his belt.
He has the key to my shackles. And he’s far out of reach—further than I could even manage to reach if I managed to get ahold of some implement around the basement.
If no one finds me, I’ll die of thirst.
I look at the half-full glass of water on the folding table out of reach and feel a hysterical bubble of laughter pressing behind my lips. Adrik’s last form of torture, left there for me to look at, knowing I can’t get to it. I know within a day or two, it will be a new kind of horror that I’ve never experienced before or even imagined.
And yet—
I don’t feel as if I regret it. If I’m going to die, it won’t be because Adrik chose the means of it, and he won’t have gotten to violate me in every way he could think of before that point.
He’s dead.
I won.
There’s a bittersweetness to it, even if it means I’m going to die down here with his corpse. I sink down to the floor, shivering at the thought as I look at him, all the life drained out of his face now. I haven’t been so close to a dead body since my mother—and that was a closed coffin.
Now I know why. Whatever my father did to her, it wouldn’t have matched the story he told. And he didn’t want us to know.
I lower my forehead to my arms, crossed over my bare knees, and let myself cry. I cry for my mother, Lilliana, myself, and all the women who are caught up in this horrible world of men, bent and broken to their whims, all of their lives decided before they ever have a voice to speak. I cry for the innocent girl I used to be, and for the girl who fell for her bodyguard and let him have a part of her that she wanted to choose to give away. I cry for the time when I thought Adrik was someone else, for the moments that I’ll never be able to think about the same way again—and for the ones with Theo, too, because no matter what, I don’t think I can ever forgive him either. Even if it’s not the same—he still hurt me. He still lost control. And our marriage was always built on lies.
The foundation was broken from the start.
I might have drifted off from exhaustion. All I know is that at some point, I hear voices and footsteps, and then suddenly, there’s more light, sunlight coming in from outside, and some of that fresh air, and when I look up, I hear Nikolai’s voice. I hear Theo’s voice—and others, too.
For a moment, I think I’m dreaming. And then they start to come down the stairs, Theo’s right-hand man Finn leading the way with others I don’t recognize or only vaguely know, and then some of Nikolai’s men that I do—and then Nikolai and Theo, guns in hand, looking around the room.
“There!” Finn motions to me, quickly averting his eyes when he sees the state I’m in. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs as he turns and sees Adrik’s body, and I catch a glimpse of him motioning to a few of the men before Theo and Nikolai are suddenly blocking my view, moving towards me.
