“Take them to room three.”
It’s probably our only opportunity to escape, but like the well-oiled machine that this place is,they know that.We’re both handcuffed and escorted by more than enough guards, up two flights of stairs and into a bedroom. Except there is no bed. It’s been replaced by a four-by-six-foot steel-barred cage that Lily and I are pushed into, the door locked behind us.
Then they leave us there.
“Are you okay?” I ask Lily after several minutes when she’s still quiet.She’s tucked into a ball in the corner, staring at her knees.
“Mhmm,” she murmurs, without looking up.
I sit down next to her, throwing an arm around her and pulling her into me. They took the handcuffs off when they shoved us in here. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.
“I don’t know, Briar…” The seriousness of her tone is unsettling.
I finger the silver chain around my neck between my fingers. The men overlooked it when they stripped me. “Koen’s on his way,”I tell her.
She looks up at me. “B…”
“He’s coming,” I say, staring at the door.I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
The door to the room opens, and we both jump.
It’s been a few hours. I have goosebumps all over my body; the two of us have been huddling together for warmth. There’s no heat in this decrepit mansion.
My heart sinks when the man that steps inside of the room isnotKoen.
The room seems to grow colder with his presence. Lily curls into a tighter ball, but I rise to my feet, stepping up close to the bars.
“Briar Elizabeth Ralston.” The man comes closer, giving me an appraising look. He’s tall, about the same age as Koen or Aidan, and terrifyingly beautiful, a walking nightmare: pale blue eyes that remind me of ice; dark hair; nice suit—violence wrapped in elegance. He’s playing with a small silver lighter in his hand but makes no attempt to touch me. There’s no warmth in his eyes, just cold, detached assessment.
“Who the fuck are you?” I bite back at him, figuring there’s no need for manners since I’m locked in a cage. His use of my middle name sets me more on edge, and my eyes narrow. I don’t recognize the man—I’ve never seen him before.
“Ronan Volkov,” he tells me, his voice cold.
My heart catches in my throat, and a faint smile appears on that hard, stony face.
“You’ve heard of me?”
I force a swallow and nod my chin, staring up at the monster who’s become utterly fixated on Koen and his family.
“Good.” He smiles.It’s worse than his frown.“Because I’ve heard a lot about you.” He takes a turn about the room, dropping the lighter into his pocket before wiping a single finger down a nearby table, looking disgusted at the dust he pulls up.
“What do you want?” I’m shaking, half from the cold and half from the trauma of it all, but I still glare at him defiantly.
“I’m a collector,” he turns toward me, “of a veryparticulartype of woman.” He steps closer, but I refuse to back up, the bars still separating us. “One the Irish just gomadfor,” he purrs out in his Russian accent, forcing my stomach to do a flip.He wants to hold us over Koen and Aidan’s heads.
He tilts his head to look behind me, where Lily is curled in the corner, and the cold deadness of his eyes flares to life with a quick flash of rage.
“That’s not Aurora Adrikova Kostalova,” he growls, and I can’t help but smile a little.
“No, it’s not,” I say quietly, taking what pleasure I can inruining his fucking day.
Pissed, he stalks to the door, pounding on it hard before it opens. “Tell Seamus I want a word before I leave.” He checks his watch. “I have a flight to catch.” He points at the cage—atLily. “I’m no longer in need ofthat one.”
My lips curl as I glare daggers at him.
“The other one, you will deliver?”
“Yes, sir.” The guard nods, and Ronan looks satisfied, giving me one last look.
