“Because… like Roman says. It’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.”
I wasn’t sure how that applied in this context, but she wasn’t in a philosophical mode. She dove straight into asking questions about how I could pull off getting Esmeralda out of my uncle’s house. While she didn’t say something stupid like suggesting I ask the Orlov force to help me, she was attentive to my loose ideas of lying to my uncle and making him get out of the house. “I’ll make up something that would lure him out of the house.”
“Do any of the guards there want to help? Or would they?”
I winced and shook my head. “Maybe one of the driver’s sons. He cleans the cars and hangs around in the back. He’s all right.”
“Good.” She frowned as we pulled up to the hospice’s parking lot. “I know Andre would help if you could ask him?—”
I put my hand on hers. “No, Anya. He wouldn’t. To trespass on my uncle’s property like that to get Esmeralda out, he’d be causing war. I can’t—and won’t—ask him to do that.” I narrowed my eyes. “And seeing how independent you are, you'd better not concoct some hare-brained idea to interfere either.” Glancing at the two guards in the front, connecting with their gazes via themirror, I eyed them with the hope that they’d agree and see to it that Anya didn’t do anything risky.
We arrived, and there was no time to argue about it any further.
Once we exited the car and walked toward the building, though, there was no time for me to do anything but scream.
A car sped up close, cutting me off from approaching the building. Anya screeched in surprise, jumping back. The young-faced Orlov guards grabbed her, holding her back and out of the way of danger. One had his gun up, but it was already too late.
“No!” I screamed it, hoping someone from the facility would hear. Hoping that someone from the sidewalk, anyone in the city, could be an innocent bystander and become my hero.
Three Giovanni soldiers exited the car and rushed at me. Their suits blurred like shadows on this rainy gray day. They came at me without pause. Using the element of surprise, they gathered around me.
It didn’t matter if I backed up and ran. If I punched and kicked and fought.
I was outnumbered. Captured. And as I tried to scream and buck and get free, they picked me up without breaking much of a sweat and tossed me into the trunk.
It happened so quickly.
I was lagging again.
Too many details shifted so suddenly.
They’d shown up, snatched me right out of the parking lot, and I was gone.
Hugging my arms around my stomach, I blocked my baby from being hit. I rolled. My back smacked against the wall. Like a piece of litter chucked into the trunk, I was tossed around and bruised from the fast ride with too many sharp turns.
One second, I was there with Anya, trying to work on my plan to save my cousin.
The next, I was in the trunk, no doubt headed “home” to face my uncle’s wrath.
Squeezing my eyes tight, I willed the nausea to stop.
I clenched my face, wincing, as I tried to calm my frantic mind.
Deep down, though, I suffered the most in my chest.
Body, mind, and soul.
I feared that I had once again failed—this time, I’d failed Andre in being able to protect his baby he didn’t seem to even want.
I’m sorry, little one.
I’m so sorry.
The car skidded to a rough stop, sending me skidding over the rough surface of the floor. Darkness swallowed me as I waited with bated breath for what would come next.
Hell.
Misery.
