In two strides, he was on me.
He fisted a hand in the front of my dress, yanking me forward hard. The cuffs bit deeper into my wrists, making me wince. His breath was rancid with cigar smoke and cheap liquor.
“You worthless whore,” he hissed, his gaze boring into mine. “The only thing you’re good for is fucking and screaming.”
He turned his head just enough to bark over his shoulder to his men, “Make sure she bleeds. Suffers. But also that she lives long enough to beg me to forgive her…before she begs me to let her die.”
And then his fist came up.
The first punch split my lip.
The second snapped my head sideways.
The world tilted again, light flaring at the edges of my vision.
The third strike was nothing but a bright, crushing explosion before the blackness swallowed me whole.
When I came to, pain was the first thing I knew.
A deep, gnawing ache in my shoulders. A throbbing fire in my wrists.
Every single one of my muscles was locked tight from cold and strain.
I didn’t open my eyes. Didn’t move.
The last thing I needed was Delgado’s men realizing I was awake.
Footsteps scuffed the concrete nearby—at least two men.
“…as soon as we get the word Volkov’s dead, I’m first,” one of them said, his tone dripping with anticipation.
“Won’t be long now,” the other replied. “That picture of her worked like a charm. The tech guy sent out theintelfor Volkov to find. Bastard thought he was so slick, hacking into it. He thinks she’s in one of Mr. Delgado’s houses down in Mexico.”
I kept my breathing slow, even as my pulse began to pound.
“Dumb fuck’s only a few blocks away from her right now and doesn’t have a clue,” the first man went on. “On his way to Jet Aviation at Teterboro. Taking his shiny new toy down south.”
The second man laughed. “And the moment he sets foot on that jet, we hit the wings. BOOM. The jet fuel goes up in flames. No more Volkov.”
My heart slammed so hard I thought it might give me away. Nik was walking straight into a trap.
Boots shuffled closer. I stayed limp.
A hand clamped onto my arm, shaking me once. “You awake, bitch?”
I didn’t move.
Fingers slid up my inner thigh. Heat rose in my chest—not from shame, but from the effort of holding perfectly still while bile burned the back of my throat.
“She’s out cold,” he said over his shoulder, his palm cupping my crotch brazenly.
The other chuckled. “Bet she’s good to fuck though. We can split her in half, do whatever we want. Delgado said so.”
The first man gripped my ass, kneading hard enough to bruise. “Shame she ain’t awake for this. Might be fun to hear her beg.”
Every nerve in my body urged me to react—to kick, to claw, to rip him apart—but I forced myself to remain still.
“Can’t believe she’s still out,” he muttered, his fingers trailing lower.
