I rush out to the street and hail a cab, running through the possibilities, the strategies that I need. A rival mob, my own family, someone has taken them away.
When my family can’t help, at least I can trust the people I pay to help me. I call Ivan.
“Boss?”
“Nina and Ava are missing.”
40
NINA
“You’ll never be enough for him.”
This is psychological warfare. I hate to admit that it’s working. I try my best to forget who Polina is referring to, her tone dripping with venom.
If I think about Art or Ava, I’m going to break down.
And that seems to be exactly what Polina wants, her lips curling every time I tremble. It’s incredible that the icy blonde harpy in front of me is responsible for the love of my life.
A shiver runs down my spine, not just from Polina’s cruel words. The room is an ice box. I’m trying not to shiver, but I’m only wearing a nightdress that does nothing to keep out the cool air.
Her heels click on the cold polished concrete. She’s wearing a black fur coat. We’re somewhere under the Estate, I think — the basement cold and echoing, lit by a bare, swaying lightbulb that giveseverything a harsh, shadowy light.
When I woke up, I was here, being tied down by a team of Polina’s guards. I didn’t waste my energy trying to fight them off, given I was outnumbered four to one. Art has increased security in our wing of the Estate, but obviously it hasn’t been enough if a team of guards could take me from our bed.
The guards line the walls, still watching my every move, even though I’m tied so tight I can’t move.
The haze of whatever they gave me to keep me asleep is slowly fading from my brain, and I try to assess the surroundings. I don’t know where they’ve taken Ava or Art, but I’m trying not to think about it. Because if I let myself worry about them, I’m going to be paralyzed with fear.
I need to keep my head clear and focus on how to get out of here.
I take a deep breath and let the rage I feel for Polina heat the blood in my veins. It’s my only source of energy right now.
Rage is good. Rage can fuel me, can help me think of a way to escape.
I’m tied to a chair, the ropes chafing against my wrists and legs. Polina circles me like a wolf looking at its prey, her blue eyes just as cold and dead as a predator. She still has faint bruises under her eyes from when I broke her nose. I can’t imagine that Art is a product of any part of her, even if his blue eye is the exact crystal shade of hers.
Trapped in a basement with Art’s ice queen mother trying to taunt me. I’ll give it to her, five years ago this would have worked.
Hell, two weeks ago it would have worked too.
But not today, Polina.
“You think you have what it takes to be the queen of this family?” She spits at me. I don’t flinch, I just keep glaring at her.
“Look at you. Weak. You don’t know the first thing about what we do here. He hasn’t taught you a single thing about how the Bratva works.”
I won’t give her anything to feed on.
I keep my mouth shut as she taunts me. Mocking my weight, my freckles, even my job, which is laughable. I know that Polina’s never worked a day in her life — a Bratva daughter through and through, who lived in a world where her value was in the marriage she could make.
She did well, becoming a Petrov, but she couldn’t follow their one core rule: loyalty. She went behind Art’s father’s back, and ultimately that’s what got her offside with Bratva. No respect for the family. To Vanya, the family comes above all else.
She can tell me I’m naïve and uninformed all she wants, but I see right through her.
This is what I focus on. Polina and her twisted history. I try to figure out why she’s brought me here, what she wants from this situation.
The exhaustion is starting to get to me. The relentless taunting. The way she somehow knows my every insecurity about my relationship with Art. It’s time to go on the attack. Unless I can distract her, she’s going to break me.
