“That was the last time I ever saw her,” I whisper, voice hoarse and throat aching. “Fedorov sent his enforcers to find us, and we were too young to get away. He told us she got on a bus and left us there.Abandonedus.”
“And you believed him?”
“I don’t know what to think.” I pause to wipe at my eyes, searching my mind for the answer and still, after all these years, coming up blank. “I’ll probably never really know what happened to her.”
“Anything could’ve,” he admits grimly. “But I’m not sure believing his version of events is the best option.”
“He took care of us after that. Made sure Eva got her treatments and gave us a place to live. But what I didn’t understand—what I wish I could warn myself about—was that Fedorov always expects a return. Nothing he ever does is free. Me and my baby sister were starting a debt of our own.
“Every single thing he gave us, we were going to have to pay back. Since we didn’t have money, he’d take his payment in other ways,” I say, feeling hollow. Finding it difficult to meet Killian’s eyes. His expression has only tightened, his scowl deepened. “The meals and doctor’s visits and even the roof over our heads—it all had a price.”
“Jhene…” he rasps.
“I found out when I turned eighteen. On my eighteenth birthday, he made it clear what I was to him from then on. How I’d be repaying my debt. I cried for days after it happened. But it was only the beginning. That was just the first time of many…”
Killian pulls me back into his arms, holding me so close it’s as if he thinks I’m about to slip away any second.
It’s immediately soothing. His arms are shields protecting me from the rest of the world, and I nestle myself deeper into him, taking comfort in that.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jhene.”
He sounds pained. My trauma deeply disturbs him, and I can sense it does.
That’s comforting too—that Killian Rourke cares about me so much, it upsets him to hear how I’ve been hurt.
I feel the same way about him.
Maybe the most unexpected twist of my lifetime.
The cruelest too.
Because no matter how much we care about each other and how safe he makes me feel, I’m still Fedorov’s property. I’m still bound to a debt I can never repay, trapped in a web I’ll never escape.
And knowing that breaks my heart most.
NINETEEN
Killian
The fightagainst Sharapova is only a month away, which means I’m deep in training to prepare for it.
Sharapova’s a machine—six foot six, two hundred and fifty pounds of Russian muscle with a knockout record that makes most fighters piss themselves before even stepping into the ring.
He’s been lurking in the wings this entire time, waiting it out to see who fought their way up for the championship. He’s the prized fighter backed by the Bratva and their stranglehold on the gambling rings in the boxing world.
I’m going to enjoy wiping that smug fucking look off his face.
Malone’s been pushing me harder than he ever has before. My training sessions have doubled. Things like morning runs, afternoon sparring, evening conditioning.
By the time I collapse into bed each night, I’m so damn exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.
But it’s worth it. Every aching muscle and bruised rib—even the drops of sweat that pour from me every training session—brings me closer to that championship belt.
Dez shows up to Malone’s thinking he’s about to ride off the back of my success.
“There you are, Kill baby!” he cries out with his arms spread open. He flashes a wide grin of gold teeth. “Just how I like to see you—training your ass off.”’
The last thing he’s expecting is the feral growl that rumbles out of me as I round on him and slam him against the wall.
