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Master chuckles. “If that were true, I’d know.”
Double shit. Also, my eyelids feel super fucking heavy. So do my hands. And my feet.
I stare at my corn chowder. Most of the bowl is gone; I’d chugged it down like the starving woman I was.
I glance over at his bowl. He’s barely touched it. Realization dawns on me. He sees it, and that evil grin is back.
“What… did you… do?” My words sound slurred. And like they’re not my own words. Not from my own body.
Master slowly slides from his chair and walks over to me. He strokes my hair back with one hand. “It’s more about what I’mgoingto do. I’m going to teach you a very important lesson,umnitsa. One that you need to learn quickly now that you belong to me.”
He scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing to him. And even though I want to fight him, I want to wriggle out of his embrace and run the fuck away…
I can’t.
I can’t move. I can’t think straight.
“Everything you have is because of me. Everything you are is what I tell you to be.”
To my horror, he starts to carry me down an unfamiliar hallway. One that very clearly leads todifferent,as-yet-unseen bedrooms.
“If I decide it’s time for you to shut the hell up, I’ll make you. And if I want to enjoy your sweet body without a fight, that’s exactly what will happen.”
He nudges a door open with his foot. It’s a bedroom. A very large, very masculine bedroom that smells just like him.
“You are mine,umnitsa. Mind, body, and soul. Allow me to prove it.”
46
DEMYEN
I think I have a drinking problem.
As in, there’s not enough drinks in my system to help me forget all about my problems.
Twenty men.
Twenty. Fucking. Men.
Gone.
And those are the ones we couldn’t recover. There’s another ten in the hospital right now, with at least three undergoing intensive care who—per the text updates I keep receiving from Pavel—may not survive the night. It’s been touch-and-go since we pulled them from the rubble and loaded them into ambulances.
Normally, I’d organize a much smoother, covert cleanup. But this time is different. This time, I don’t care if tongues start wagging about who I am and what I do in the shadows.
This time, I want the public eye to focus squarely on the very obvious Yakuza attack.
I stare at the bottom of the pool as I sit on the edge of the lounge chair, watching the way the slight ripples of the water make the moon’s reflection dance.
I wonder what Raizo will look like down there, staring up at me as he fights for his last breath. As he struggles to free himself from the cement shoes I will personally fit on him.
No one fucks me over.
No one.
Clara’s face suddenly appears in my mind and I try to shut my eyes against it. I can’t. There’s a voice inside my head asking me if I’m angrier that Raizo is probably the bastard who killed my men…
Or that he’s the bastard who kidnapped and sold my woman.
