He doesn’t deny it. Bodhi’s hands curl into fists on his thighs, his knuckles turning white, and a muscle jumps in his jaw. Of course he knew. That’s his job.
“So, I’m screwed whatever happens.” An icy numbness flows through my veins as the stark reality of the situation becomes crystal clear.
Unblinking, I hold Bodhi’s gaze. The anxiety that had me in its grip just a minute before has melted away, replaced by resignation.
This is it. I’m never getting out.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Bodhi drags in a deep breath, looking to the roof of the car and steadying himself. When hefinally looks at me, his eyes glint and reflect the light. “Kozlov is dangerous but there’s still time.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, scarcely believing he’s trying to convince me there could be a way out for me.
He doesn’t want trouble. Doesn’t want me to be a crying mess, pleading for mercy, or trying to escape.
“Time for what?” The laugh that escapes me sounds wrong. Hollow and brittle, it echoes off the tinted windows.
He says nothing, just stares at me, looking torn.
Annoyance flares up inside me. He’s just pissed off that I figured it out.
“You know what I’ve decided?” I shift to face him fully, tucking one leg beneath me on the leather seat. My voice comes out steady and scarily decisive. “I’d rather die than be handed over to some pervert who paid for the privilege of my virginity.” My voice cracks, but I push through, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “Using me until he decides he’s had his fun.”
The words hang between us, ominous and terrifying.
“I won’t give them what they want,” I whisper.
Bodhi’s whole body goes rigid and his hands slide down his thighs just a couple of inches, dragging hard over the stiff denim before he balls them tighter.
Surprise flickers in his eyes, quickly followed, not by irritation with my fighting words, but by concern.
“Don’t.” His voice comes out rough, and there’s a slight shake of his head. “Don’t say that.”
“Why do you care?” For some reason, I really want to know. Why is he even pretending to care? “Will you lose your bonus if your precious hostage doesn’t survive until Saturday?”
Silence clogs the space between us, thick and suffocating. His eyes meet mine, dark and intense, and I see something there that doesn’t fit.
It looks almost like pain. But before I can pinpoint it, it’s gone, and his expression is stone again.
“See, you don’t really give a shit,” I say flatly, turning to face the front. “You just want me to stay meek and compliant.”
He doesn’t argue.
Right. Of course.
The car finally rolls to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Through the windshield, I see another guard waiting at the main entrance, a hand resting on the pistol at his hip like he’s expecting a fight. The driver cuts the engine and turns around, grinning, chin tipped toward the palatial estate outside.
“It’s really something, isn’t it?”
I haven’t moved, still pressed against my door. I might not trust Bodhi, but I hate the idea of getting out and going in there even more. At least in this car, there’s the illusion of safety and some level of freedom. In there, surrounded by armed guards and miles of dark forest, there’s nothing.
The driver gets out and calls to the guard over the roof of the car. “Piotr. Got a special delivery for you.”
Piotr’s eyes light up as he jogs down the steps, his eager expression making my stomach turn. When he sees me through the window, he lets out a low whistle that scrapes over my skin like sandpaper.
“Kozlov wasn’t kidding. She’s perfect.”
I shrink back in my seat, the handle digging painfully into my hip as his gaze crawls over me through the glass.
Bodhi climbs out and circles the car toward me, positioning himself in front of my door, but Piotr’s still there, leaning down to get a better look, his breath fogging up the window.
