The boat ride to the next closest dock where we have stowed transport is the longest twenty minutes of my life.
I stand at the bow, my clothes soaked with salt spray and other men’s blood, my mind racing through every possible scenario.
Did I leave enough guards at the mansion?
Are they loyal, or has Adrian bought them off?
Is Sophia awake, wondering where I am?
Or is she already in chains, terrified, calling my name?
Does she have the same dead look in her eyes as Nicole did?
The idea of Sophia scared and helpless makes rage burn through my veins, hot and acidic.
It’s too much like the memory of whenIwas the monster taking her from all she knew.
Guilt settles in my stomach, a twist of nausea, as memory confuses Nicole’s broken, helpless stare when I found her with the fear and hopeless acceptance of Sophia’s kidnapping and fate.
Her terror when I found her in the tunnels.
I can’t let down another woman in my protection.
Sophia…will never feel that fear again. She is mine to protect.
If Adrian touches her, if he so much as looks at her wrong, I’ll make his death last for days.
I’ll make him beg for mercy I’ll never give.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out with shaking hands, expecting the worst.
It’s a text from one of my guards at the mansion.All clear. Mrs. Artyomov is safe.
Relief hits me so hard I have to grip the boat’s railing to stay upright. She’s safe. She’s okay. Adrian hasn’t gotten to her yet.
But the “yet” is what terrifies me.
By the time we reach the mansion, dawn is breaking over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that seem obscene after the violence of the night.
I burst through the front doors, ignoring Elena’s startled gasp at my appearance.
I must look like something out of a nightmare, covered in blood and gunpowder residue, my suit torn and ruined.
I can’t move through the mansion fast enough. Each blink is a flash back, a reminder of the home invasion that changed everything for Nicole.
The overturned furniture.
The dead guards.
The dread as I searched for my sister.
I take the stairs three at a time, my heart pounding. The guards—thank fuck they’re alive—outside our bedroom door straighten when they see me, their eyes widening at my condition.
“Has anyone tried to enter?” I demand, my chest heaving, desperate for a full breath and rest.
“No, Pakhan. It’s been quiet all night.”
I nod and push open the door as quietly as I can. The room is dark except for the faint light filtering through the curtains. And there, in our bed, is Sophia.
