And then, the cramps began.
Sharp. Relentless.
I lay curled on that filthy cot for hours, bleeding into a thin mattress that already smelled of mildew and rot. No one helped me. No one cared.
I bit down on my lip so hard it split open, because even if I could have screamed, I would not give them that satisfaction.
And now Ruslan stood in front of me, offering Harlan’s death like a bouquet of roses.
“I didn’t just kill him,” Ruslan continued, voice rougher now. “I made sure he understood why.”
A muscle ticked in Luca’s jaw behind me. Vito’s breathing grew heavier. Even Dario shifted his weight, tension vibrating off him in waves.
Ruslan’s gaze never left mine.
“He begged,” he said quietly. “He cried. He tried to bargain. I broke every finger he ever used to touch you. I made him remember your name before I ended it.”
Was I supposed to feel avenged?
Was I supposed to collapse into his arms in gratitude?
My hands trembled—not from fear, but from something darker.
The doctor shifted uncomfortably to the side, forgotten.
Ruslan’s voice dropped lower. “That man who kidnapped you... the one who—” His jaw tightened. “The one who violated you repeatedly. He slipped away during the fight. But I will find him. I swear to you, Elena, I will find him.”
I looked at him then.
At the blood soaking his shirt.
At the rage barely contained beneath his skin.
At the desperation flickering in his eyes.
Was I supposed to thank him?
For executing one monster and swearing to hunt the one who escaped?
As if that erased the fact that he locked me away — even though he knew I had done nothing wrong?
I turned away from him—away from the blood on his shirt, the storm in his eyes—and toward Dario.
My hands shook so badly I had to press my wrists together to steady them before I signed.
“Please. Get me out of here.”
I mouthed the words too, exaggerating each syllable, my ruined throat straining around the shapes.
I needed him to see it—not just the words, but the fracture running through me. The threadbare edge of my control.
Dario’s jaw locked. He shoved both hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers, a habit he’d picked up years ago when he needed to keep himself from breaking something—or someone.
His shoulders were rigid beneath the dark suit jacket, muscles coiled tight.
“We know we made an agreement,” he said to Ruslan, his voice low and edged with something lethal. “But we want it nullified.”
The air in the room shifted.
