* * *
Sloane
My cheek throbs, fiery pain that snakes all the way to my temple. Anton—one of Dimitri’s generals who shuttled his girls back and forth from the hotel to the basement in Philadelphia—grips my arm hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, and I can’t stop looking over my shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of Griff.
A black car with tinted windows idles at the curb at the end of the block, and I try to dig my heels into the soft grass, but all that gets me are two bare feet and a growl to “Stop fighting or you will be sorry.”
I’m already sorry.
“What are they doing to Griff?” I ask.
“Shut up,cyka,”he snaps. Opening the back door, he shoves me into the car. The urge to try the opposite door is almost overwhelming, but if I run, Dimitri will kill Marina, and I have no idea where she is. Or Jacob. What happened to him?
Anton’s large body squeezes in next to me, and the man in the front seat—one I don’t recognize, but who’s just as big and ugly—tosses him a roll of duct tape.
“Hands.”
I don’t fight. Don’t do anything but cross my wrists in front of me and let him wrap the tape around them. Six times. I count, though I don’t know why. What does it matter? I’m dead. Griff…maybe he’ll survive. Dimitri is a monster, but though he’d string his girls along with promises of fast food, hot showers, or a fix to take the pain away, the very few times he uttered the phrase “you have my word,” he followed through.
No one speaks on the drive. Anton ordered me to keep my bound hands in my lap, so I sit quietly, my fingers drumming on my knees while I chew on my lips until I taste blood.
Rain starts to fall, and the lights of Zurich turn to blurry streaks of bright colors outside the windows. One turn, two, three, and the car slows, making a final turn and rolling through a deserted parking lot.
Why didn’t I pay attention to the route we took?
Because you won’t survive this. He won’t let you. What’s the point?
Cool air hits my skin as Anton yanks me from the car, and my feet land in a puddle. The hem of my dress drags along the wet ground as I’m dragged down a long wooden dock. Lake Zurich stretches out before us, an inky black void behind an old wooden boat house with light spilling from a crack in the side door.
“Eto ya,”Anton calls out. The reply is muffled thanks to my heartbeat roaring in my ears, but a second later, the big asshole throws me to the ground just inside the boathouse.
Throwing my bound hands out to break my fall is almost useless, and pain sings all the way from my palms to my shoulders.Marina. Where’s Marina?
My eyes water, but I scramble back against the closest wall, blinking rapidly until I can focus on my best friend. The boathouse opens out onto the lake with a long wooden platform running down the center. On the far side, Marina lies in a small boat—no engine, barely even a canoe—with blood staining the whole left side of her dress.
“Marina!” Before I can get to my feet, Dimitri aims a kick to my ribs, knocking all the air from my lungs.
“My little Sophiana is all grown up,” he says. I struggle to breathe, curling inwards as nausea crawls up my throat. Air rushes back into my lungs in a whoosh. His scent is the same. Vodka andkvasyaand sweat. “I thought maybe I would take you from theBahnhofstrasse.You were all alone then. You and that stupid American. It would have been simple. But…you were always my favorite.”
“Bullshit,” I croak. “Your favorite was whichever girl you thought needed to be taught alessonthat night.”
He grabs me by the hair and throws me against the old wooden wall. Marina screams, the sound muffled, but full of pain and terror. My head hits hard, and my vision blurs. This is it. This is when he kills me.
“Maybe I should keep you alive for a bit,” Dimitri says as he crouches in front of me. “Teach you to be grateful for what I have given you.”
“You…gave me…nothing but pain.”
“I gave you one final night to bask in your glory,Sloane. You were the darling of the whole evening. I paid one of the hotel staff a thousand francs to send me photos.” He pulls out his phone and waves it back and forth. On the screen, Griff and I are laughing, his arm around my waist, my hand on his chest.
“Is he alive? Is Griff alive?” I ask. Tears tumble down my cheeks, and behind Dimitri, Pavel holds Marina against his broad chest and traces the sharp point of his knife along her cheek, under her chin, and down to her breasts. She whimpers and tries to pull away, but he chuckles and plunges the blade into her side. “No! Stop! I did what you wanted!Everythingyou wanted! Let her go!”
“Not everything.” Dimitri stands, towering over me, and holds out his hand. “You have not suffered as I have these past fifteen years.”
Does he seriously think I’m going to let him help me up?
“Pavel, Anton? My little Sophie needs moremotivation.”
“No! Please, no!” I thrust my bound hands up, but it’s too late. Anton curls his fingers around the back of my dress and yanks me to my feet, dragging me halfway down the walkway so I’m standing right in front of Marina. She’s struggling to breathe, her chest stuttering, and she’s so pale. Blood seeps from around the blade, less than I expect, but still too much.
