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Like the bruises shaped like fingerprints mottled all over the insides of her thighs. The bandage taped to her skin. And the way he keeps touching her like he owns her. Like he’s not completely aware of who she is to me, what she means to me…
I don’t care how much he paid for her—she doesn’t belong to him.
Clara Everett ismine.
“Would you like that?” Oleg asks me with sick glee.“It’ll be a bastard, of course. But Zakrevsky blood is still Zakrevsky blood, and I know you’ll be good to your new little brother or sister.”
Pavel shifts in his seat next to me. It’s his way of reminding me that ripping Oleg’s vocal cords through his ribcage is not, in fact, the best course of action right now.
Even if we both know he’d hold the old man down for me to do it.
Oleg is expectant, waiting for me to answer. What do I say? WhatcanI say that won’t immediately put Clara or myself into danger?
I force myself to shrug and lean back in the couch. “Shit, man, I don’t fucking care what you do.”
Oleg peers at me. I’m giving him no reason to not trust me, but nothing can or will stop him from being an overly suspicious man. Maybe I’m playing ittoocasual, especially since he’s hinted at knowing that Clara and I have something special.
Or rather, that we did.
Oleg suddenly shoves Clara off his lap, so hard that she lands hard on the floor on her knees and lets out a soft cry of pain.
That sound nearly yanks me from the couch to her side. But I can’t.
Not if all three of us are gonna make it out of here alive.
He roughly fists a hand in her hair and yanks her head back. “I just realized,umnitsa, that you haven’t properly welcomed our guest. And he’s an old friend of yours!” He chuckles darkly and thumbs her bottom lip. “I’m sure he’d love to get reacquainted with your pretty mouth.”
I don’t like it, but I’ll take it. Whatever needs to happen to bring her closer to me and farther the fuck away from him.
But then Oleg yanks her head back hard, again, and uses his free hand to fumble with his pants zipper. “On second thought, why don’t we show him everything you’ve learned while you’ve been here?”
Two things.
One: I donotwant to see any part of my father that involves zippers.
Two: if he’s saying what I think he’s saying, I might have to bite the bullet anyways. Because I am going to fucking castrate him.
Clara suddenly looks at me, pure terror in her eyes. Her lips tremble. It’s so slight, I don’t actually know if I saw her mouth the word “please."
It’s okay, though. She doesn’t need to.
I’m about three seconds away from ending this with his head impaled on a set of antlers.
I try to convey to her that I’m here, I’m with her, I’ve got her. It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to leave her with this monster.
But before I can, she looks away. Her face falls, and a chilling sense of resignation settles into her body. Which, much to my horror and fury, is a lot thinner than it was before the auction.
Fucking hell, Clara…
What the hell is he doing to you?
I glance up at Oleg. He seems less than amused. Almost bored, actually. “Oh, bah, you’re no fun. Fuck off,” he grumbles with a swift, hard shove of his foot against her shoulder.
Clara breaks her initial fall with her hands, but Oleg’s kick forces her to sprawl completely on the floor.
I start to lean forward to help her up, but Pavel stops me with a subtle clearing of his throat.
My fingers clench into fists. It’s killing me inside that I can’t do anything to help her. That I can’t just whisk her away somewhere safe, then come back and beat the ever-living shit out of the man who dared lay a finger on her.
