“Nonsense. I already talked to the doctors, and you just have to sign some papers. There’s absolutely no reason for you to stay here. You’re not sick to lounge in bed all day. You’ve missed so many classes!”
“Uh-huh.” Classes. I’m tempted to tell my mother I might have missed college classes but I was still getting education, but I don’t want to get yelled at so I follow my parents out of the room and then wait out the disapproving scowl contest between my mother and my doctor. My mother wins.
Grumbling about it being better for me to stay for a few more days, the doctor shows me a bunch of papers, which I sign without even reading them. I don’t care what they say, and if I’m signing off on the hospital being allowed to harvest my organs and sell them to the highest bidder, then I hope whoever gets them makes good use of them. I know I’m supposed to be surviving because that’s what Mikhail told me to do, but if he’s not coming for me, why should I listen to him?
Shortly after I was kidnapped, I promised myself that if I survived and got free, I would never go back to my old life. That I’d leave my parents and start living on my own. Now that I have survived and gotten free, that thought feels like a pipe dream. What would I do on my own? How does one actually live a life? I have no clue. My parents wouldn’t let me leave anyway. They’d follow me to the ends of Earth, pestering me and staring me down until I returned home like the good girl I’m supposed to be but never was.
The ride home from the hospital is a blur, and then I’m in my room, slightly nauseous from how incrediblynormaleverything seems. Like nothing happened. Like I haven’t been kidnapped and trafficked and taught to suck cock and take it up my ass. Like I haven’t discovered a side of me that wants to serve and haven’t found the perfect Master.
There are textbooks and notebooks on my desk and my clothes are meticulously folded in my closet as if my life hasn’t been turned upside down in the past two weeks. Two weeks. It felt longer and yet not long enough.
“No moping, Grace,” Mother says. “You’ve missed a lot of classes, but I got in contact with your teachers and told them you were sick. They’ve been very accommodating.”
“Sick?”
“Well, yes. What else were we supposed to tell everyone? We didn’t know where you were, and it was horrible. We didn’t need people gossiping on top of that.”
“Gossiping,” I repeat dully.
Mother frowns. “Yes, you put us through quite an ordeal, young lady. All those questions… But we managed the situation with no one being the wiser, and the police said they wouldn’t reveal your identity to anyone, so it should be okay. Of course, we’ve had to tell Mason, but he’s still willing to marry you, even after this…unfortunate situation.”
I snort. I know it will make Mother furious, but I can’t help it. It’s just all too ridiculous. “Well, he should want to marry me. I’m an expert at sucking cocks now, although Mason likely doesn’t care about that since all he needs is a beard. But really, Mother, thisunfortunate situationgave me skills men would fall over to have in a wife. If you want to sell me, advertise my proficiency in sexual services. You’ll get more bidders than just Mason Dickens.”
“GRACE!” Mother gasps so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t choke. “Language! We do not talk like this in this house! In fact, we will not be talking about this ever again. What happened to you was unfortunate but really, you should have been more careful. The police said you were taken going to your dorm after dark. After dark, Grace! What did you expect would happen?”
“It’s November, Mother. It’s always dark. And really, I didn’t expect much from you, but perhaps at least a hug? A few comforting words?” I laugh bitterly even as I say it because my mother doesn’t do comforting. Everyone in the hospital was nicer to me than my own parents, and isn’t that just sad? Notwanting to fight, I turn my back to her. “I’m going to bed. I have therapy tomorrow morning.”
“I cancelled that. You will not be airing our dirty laundry with strangers. Like I said, we will never talk about what happened again. It’s done, and you’re here now. It’s time to go back to your life.”
I want to scream and throw stuff, but what would be the point? Nothing will ever change because I’m not strong enough to stand up for myself, and I don’t have anyone to do it for me. I escaped one dungeon only to be tossed into another, and isn’t that damn ironic?
Chapter 36
Mikhail
The man doesn’t even gasp, staring at me as the bullet plows through his brain, entering through a neat hole in his forehead and exiting in a flurry of blood, brain matter, and bone fragments through a much larger hole in the back of his skull. I could have taken my time killing him, but I don’t care enough about him to torture him. I just need him gone. He was the last member of the Morozovs’ inner circle, the last person who survived the devastating fire of the mansion and could potentially point a finger at me, although I’ve been careful to cover my tracks.
There’s still the boss’ youngest son, who’s been abroad for months before the attack and hasn’t really been a part of the operations, so he’s no threat. If he becomes one, I’ll take himout too, but for now I need to get back to my Doll. I’ve been away from her for too long, and it has definitely affected my mood in the worst way possible. I suppose I didn’thave tokill that drugstore cashier, especially since I’m supposed to be lying low now, but he was such an annoying, whiny fucker I couldn’t deal with him for a second longer. Really, I’ve done the world a favor removing him from the population. Besides, they’ll never even find his body, let alone connect me to his disappearance, so there’s no risk.
Still, I need to get back to Grace before my grumpiness gets me in trouble. My fuse is entirely too short without her around to calm me. First, though, I need to get the lay of the land and find out what’s being said about the fire and who’s responsible for it. Since canvassing the streets wouldn’t help me maintain the illusion that I’m dead, I have to get information elsewhere, and there’s only one person in the world I trust.
Cameron picks up on the first ring. I hope that means he’s at home and not working. “Cameron Matthews,” he says, not recognizing the number since I’m calling from a burner phone. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you alone?”
“Well, that’s a weird question to ask… OH MY GOD! Mikhail?! You’re alive!”
I roll my eyes. “I am, but you better be alone and not screaming my name out loud in front of customers.”
“Right, sure. Sorry man. It’s fine. I’m home alone. But fuck! Mikhail, I thought you were dead. Everyone thinks you’re dead! They found a body in the Morozov’s basement and matched it to you based on dental records since it was apparently burnt to a crisp. I fucking grieved you, man! I even started sketching an ink to commemorate my best friend’s death, and you’re alive!”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”
Cameron sighs. “Yes, because you always have to do everything on your own. You Bratva assholes all think asking for help would make you look weak or something, but I swear to you, if you’re hiding from whoever took out the Morozovs, I can—” He pauses, then gasps. We’ve been friends for a long time, and he knows me well enough to guess what really happened. “Oh. My. God. It was you, wasn’t it? You single-handedly took down the entire family, didn’t you? Jesus fucking Christ, Mikhail. You don’t half-ass anything.”
“No, I don’t,” I say, laughing. “I thought it was time for a change of scenery, and I wasn’t really in a position to quit, so…”
“So you killed everyone. Sure, that’s an absolutely normal reaction,” he says dryly. “Dude, I can’t even… It was about one of your Dolls, wasn’t it?”
