How quickly could I get to him? And would I be able toget my knife out in time? There was no way out without him, but if I could somehow incapacitate this huge, highly trained Bratva king, then maybe…
My lip trembled. What could my tiny knife do against his brute strength?
A click came from behind me, and bile rose in my throat. I knew what that sound was. Inhaling a deep, shuddering breath, I slowly turned around to face Igor.
Igor, who had a pistol pointed straight at my head. He jerked it towards the metal chair that was tucked beneath the desk. “Sit. Down. I will not ask again.”
Moving on trembling legs, I implored him with my gaze. “If you kill me, you’ll start a war. You don’t want that.”
He kicked out the chair, sending it towards me with a metallic screech. “You do not know what I want.”
I sank onto the chair, and with his gun still trained on me, he walked around the back. His arm shot out, the gun pressing into my temple as he wrenched my already hurt left arm back. A cry of pain tore from my throat as a click sounded.
He’d fucking handcuffed me to the chair.
I kicked out frantically, and he smashed his fist into my stomach, making me double over, gasping for breath as tears sprang to my eyes. It hurtso much.
I was dimly aware of Igor’s low chuckle as I lashed out again, jerking in the chair, and then suddenly, my movements were halted. I blinked away the tears, panting. Electrical tape had been swiftly wound around my legs, holding them tightly together so I couldn’t kick out effectively anymore. I stared hopelessly up at him.
Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he began rolling up his sleeves. The gun was now back inside his holster, in clear view without the jacket to cover it. “You will listen. If youspeak without permission, I will use this.” Jerking his head towards the roll of tape on the floor close to the chair, he smiled again. “You understand?”
Tears dripped from my chin, but I refused to wipe them away. Holding his gaze, I licked my lips, tasting the salt from my tears. “I understand.”
“Good.” Turning to the bag on the table, he popped open a clip on the top and unrolled it.
It wasn’t a bag, after all. Or…it was. Just not the kind I’d been expecting. It was a roll-up tool bag, but instead of tools, it was filled with what could only be described as instruments of torture, gleaming in the overhead strip light.
My eyes widened. Igor glanced back at me with a satisfied expression as he took in the sheer horror on my face.
“I was not truthful before.”
“What?”
“I said you could join me. That was joke. You and your family attacked my men. You took one hostage to torture for information, and now you pay.”
No. “Hostage? What about— Are you— Anton?” I couldn’t eventhinkproperly, struggling to process his words.
His lip curled. “Anton is not involved. He is…dolboyob. Not fit to be in charge of enterprises. I will be Pakhan, and he will bow to me.”
“You’re deluded,” I whispered. His expression darkened, and his hand flew out, smacking me across the face. I gasped, hot pain flaring along my cheekbone.
That wasit. No matter what his size was, no matter what he might do to me, he was going to pay.
Pushing the pain aside, I concentrated on what I needed to do. My left hand was cuffed, but my right hand was stillfree, and I had one chance to surprise him. I had to put everything I had into it.
When my head swung back, I spat at his feet, hoping with everything I had that it would distract him from my fingers closing around my comb-knife. He roared in outrage. At the same time, I flicked the lid off the knife, swung my bound legs out to connect with his shin, and launched myself and the chair forwards, using the momentum to drive my body—and most importantly, my knife—into him.
My hand slashed upwards. Maybe it was muscle memory from all the training Ryker had drummed into me, or maybe it was sheer luck, but either way, my blade found a target, puncturing the underside of his jaw and up into the inside of his mouth.
“Suka,” he spat, the word garbled through the blood spraying from his mouth and hitting my face. He launched his body forwards, slamming into mine, taking us both to the floor. My head hit the stone so hard, my vision went white.
His hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing hard. I thrashed uselessly, fighting to drive the knife in further, but I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.
I was going to die.
The last coherent thought that entered my mind before my consciousness slipped away was that I never got to tell Jay how I felt about him.
42
