But here’s the thing about bait—it doesn’t always stay on the hook.
I scanned the room. The men were laughing among themselves—and it was the kind of casual, ugly laughter that said they thought this was already over.
They had no idea.
Nik would be coming. And whether I got out of here alive or not, Nik would murder every last one of them, the mayor included.
Just then, the four men rose from their seats and sauntered over to me.
One of them stepped forward, spit flying from his mouth and landing warm and vile across my cheek.
Before I could react, he drove a fist deep into my side. White-hot pain exploded through my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. The force sent me swinging in a wide, helpless arc, the chain overhead screeching as my weight jerked it taut. My dress flared up, baring my pantyless ass to the pack of grinning jackals.
Every instinct screamed at me to curl up, to protect my ribs and stomach, but that would’ve wrenched my shoulders further. My fingers clawed at the hook as I attempted to keep enough tension in my arms to stop my shoulder joints from tearing clean out of their sockets.
The men whistled and catcalled, barking out filth, their eyes crawling over my exposed skin.
And then a deep, metallic rumble cut through the laughter.
Every head turned.
At the far end of the warehouse, a rolling metal door shuddered upward, the sound echoing through the cavernous building. Light from outside spilled in, followed by the low growl of an expensive engine. A gunmetal-gray sports car rolled inside.
A winged door lifted slowly, and out stepped Ciro Delgado.
The men straightened instantly—postures snapping from predatory looseness to rigid attention.
But he didn’t look at them.
He looked at me.
He dragged his eyes—black, flat, and cold—over me inch by inch, the way a butcher sized up the next carcass to carve. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t even hate. It was worse—pure, calculated ownership. It was the kind of look that made me feel dirty just for existing.
“Nice to see you’re awake, Lyla.” His grin was all yellow teeth and poison. “Or perhaps I should say, Mrs. Volkov.”
I stayed silent, swaying slightly, fighting the temptation to react.
“You’re turning out to be more valuable than I’d expected,” he went on, his tone conversational, almost amused. “Sure, you had value at the auction. But now? Now you’re bait—bait that’s going to bring down a syndicate leader, one of the most powerful men in the world.” His smile thinned. “And a pain in my ass.”
Nik was alive. That was the only thing that mattered.
Delgado pulled his phone from his coat, tapped the screen, and turned it toward me.
My stomach rolled.
It was a picture of me—unconscious, strung up on this hook while two of his men held my dress above my waist and groped me. My legs and hips were on full display, like some kind of trophy fish.
The bile rose in my throat. I gagged, fighting it back.
Delgado let out an insidious chuckle.
“You’re an insurance policy, Mrs. Volkov. As soon as your husband’s dead, I’ve promised these men they can have you—however they want—as long as they kill you when they’re done. Payment for a job well done.”
Rage boiled up inside me, overpowering the fear momentarily.
“You’ll never kill him,” I spat, my pulse roaring in my ears. “He’s too smart for a thick-headed, short little rapist like you.You strut around like you’ve got a stick shoved so far up your ass you can taste it—lording over rats. You’ll never rule anything more than the gutters.”
His smile vanished.
