Page 84 of The Russian's Bought Bride

“And Danielle?”

“He hasn’t seen her yet.”

Not good enough.

Every instinct I have is screaming now, and for the first time in years, I’m genuinely afraid I might be too late.

Chapter 26 - Dani

Consciousness comes back in fragments, cold before the subtle pain slips through the cracks and burns through me as my awareness slowly registers.

Then the sharp chemical smell of antiseptic sears the fog in my head, and my eyes gradually open.

I try to move instinctively, realizing immediately that I can’t, and panic sets in so fast it steals the air from my lungs.

My wrists are strapped down, causing immediate resistance when I try to pull away. Yanking my legs, they don’t move either. My ankles are just as stuck, leaving me with no choice but to stay in place.

The realization hits with brutal clarity as my vision finally steadies enough to make out the room around me.

The metal table feels like ice beneath my back, and the harsh fluorescent lights hum overhead. Medical equipment sits arranged nearby, all perfectly lined up in a haunting row.

No.

No, no, no.

A terrified sound catches in my throat as memories slam back all at once…the crash, hands dragging me from the SUV, and Nikolai reaching for me despite his wounds before everything went black.

My breathing turns ragged immediately as I struggle harder against the restraints, and the leather bites painfully into my skin. Regardless of how I move and squirm, I don’t go anywhere.

“Awake already?”

The voice makes my stomach drop, and I go perfectly still the moment my gaze lands on him.

The man stands several feet away near a rolling metal tray with his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. He looks composed in a way that feels deeply wrong considering the situation, eyes hard yet disturbingly calm beneath the bright lights.

Dr. Volodin stands beside him, and the sight of him nearly makes me sick.

He won’t look at me fully, and his expression is tense in a way I don’t remember from before. His movements are clipped as he organizes supplies with visibly unsteady hands.

But it’s the sight of him that makes me connect the dots about the other man. Despite never seeing him before, I already know it must be Grigori Malenkov.

“You…” I mumble, my voice cracking as I look at the doctor again. “Why are you doing this?”

Neither of them answers immediately, and that silence only makes the terror crawl higher up my throat as I pull uselessly against the restraints again.

“Please,” I say, hating how weak the panic in my voice makes me sound. “Please don’t do this.”

Volodin flinches almost imperceptibly, but Malenkov doesn’t.

Instead, he steps closer to the table and studies me with detached calculation that makes my skin crawl.

“You’re here because you’re valuable,” he says simply, looking at me with a specific kind of disinterest, like I’m nothing more than a thing to be taken. “And you signed a contract. One you didn’t fulfill.”

The words hit harder than yelling would have, making me feel like I’m not even a person anymore. To him, I’m just inventory.

“Your organs alone are worth a fortune,” he continues evenly, reaching over to pull at the strap around my closest ankle. “You’re healthy, young, and you have more than enough to give. Besides, after a Lukov interrupted our operations…he’s cost us a great deal of money.”

Nikolai.