Dominik
My decision has been made,for better or for worse. Gavriil is going to be furious. In fact, he may want her even more now than he did before. But there are certain parts of our customs that not even aPakhanwould dare disrespect.
The truth is, I’m not entirely sure why I decided to keep Alina. All I know is that the thought of sending her home with Gavriil tonight is enough to turn my stomach. I believe her when she says that she doesn’t know where Archer or the money is, which makes her innocent in all this. She’s a bargaining chip, but she doesn’t deserve to pay for her brother’s mistakes.
“Viktor,” I say when he opens the door behind us, letting fresh air into the stuffy torture room. “Knife.”
My second doesn’t hesitate. He pulls the small tactical blade from his belt and lays it on the metal work bench. He doesn’t hand it to me. No one in the Bratva passes a blade hand to hand. It’s a silly superstition really, based on the fear of causing bad blood or severing friendships.
Alina stiffens when I pick up the knife, causing the steel to scrape against the table’s surface. But she doesn’t recoil when I approach her with it in my hand.
“Hold still,” I tell her as I crouch down next to her legs.
Her knees press together and her chin lifts like she’s daring herself not to flinch. I cut through the plastic binding at her ankles first, then the zip tie around her knees.
“You’ll be able to walk now,” I tell her as I put the knife away. “Walk not run, and I’ll free your wrists when we get upstairs.”
She doesn’t nod her agreement or thank me.
Reaching for her upper arms, I pull her to her feet as I straighten to my full height, well over a foot taller than her.
I jerk my head toward the door where Viktor is waiting. Petrov’s gone up ahead of us to get the guest room ready for Alina, and Renat should be nearly finished reviewing the surveillance cameras from my office upstairs.
“Follow Viktor,” I instruct her, placing my hand at the small of her back. Not pushing but steering her as I take up the position behind her.
The walk through the parking garage to the elevator is quiet except for her uneven breaths and the soft thud of her boots. She doesn’t ask where we’re going or any other questions. I’ve told her what she needed to know about the situation, about her traitorous brother. It can’t be easy for her to wrap her head around all that if he didn’t tell her about his scheme.
Inside the elevator, Alina moves to the corner behind Viktor who swipes his card through the slot on the panel, then puts in my code to the penthouse. With her wrists behind her back, she keeps her head up, pretending she’s not nervous, but I see her wince in the reflection of the mirrored walls when the doors close, shutting us inside the small space together.
“You’re not going back in that room again,” I assure her.
She swallows hard, then lowers her eyes, focusing on the seam of the floor.
The elevator doors finally open revealing the polished floors of my penthouse’s floor.
Viktor leads the way to the apartment door, punching in the same code needed to unlock it and holding it open for us.
Alina’s footsteps drag across the threshold, wary. While she’s standing still, taking in the view of my living room and kitchen, I retrieve the knife again to slice through the plastic binding her wrists. The severed piece drops to the floor, leaving red abrasions on her skin that make my teeth clench.
She then walks forward, headed toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city.
“Are you hungry?” I ask as I follow her.
“No.” Her lie falls flat.
“No? You just worked ‘a twelve-hour shift catering to the whims of every damn guest,’ and you don’t want anything to eat?” I press her, using her words from earlier.
Her mouth softens for a fraction of a second before she forces it neutral. “Not anymore. I’ve lost my appetite tonight.”
Of course she’s hungry, but I can’t force food down her throat.
“Renat,” I call out, knowing he’s likely eavesdropping from my office. “Make us some tea.”
Alina frowns at the order or at my choice of beverages, but I ignore her glare in my direction. A comfortable hostage is easier to manage, and I have a feeling that her brother is going to drag this shit out longer than either of us would like.
As Renat appears and gets to work in the kitchen, Alina says, “I’m not thirsty either.”
“You’ll drink something,” I tell her.
