17. Sierra
SEVENTEEN
Sierra
Konstantin keeps giving me worried glances, and I hate him for it.
“You should have told me this would be too strenuous,” he says.
The car is pulling up to the mansion’s front gate, and the driver uses the remote tucked on the dash to open it.
“Too strenuous?” I repeat, the first words I’ve uttered since telling him to shut up when we’d gotten into the car. “No, a marathon would’ve been too strenuous. Having a quaint little dinner date with a sex trafficker isn’t fucking strenuous, Konstantin. I cannot believe— Did you really—” I sputter, throwing my hands up in the air when the appropriate words refuse to come out.
Konstantin’s expression turns darker. “What? You said you were feeling yourself sick because of the pregnancy.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. That was so Giulio Pavone didn’t rain chaos down on your entire enterprise when I insulted him by running out on a date with him. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
The car comes to a stop, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the driver hops out immediately.
“Sierrochka, who I do or don’t do business with is my concern. Not yours,” Konstantin says, voice clipped.
I stare at him for a long moment, then shake my head, disgusted. “No? I’m not like Vanessa Pavone, Konstantin ,” I say, practically spitting out his name. “I’m not going to have your babies and pretend you aren’t a wretched excuse for a human being. What the fuck do you think I am? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I go for the door, but Konstantin grabs my wrist and yanks it toward himself. He squeezes hard enough to cause pain, and I gasp.
“Who I am?” Konstantin growls. “I am Konstantin Igorevich Voronkov. I lead the American branch of the Voronkov Bratva. There are fifty men under my command, who will jump to obey my order. I will not tolerate insubordination or insults, especially not from my mistress .”
Rage boils up in me at his words, and I glare at him with a look of hatred I haven’t turned on him since he first took me from my home. “Excuse the fuck out of me,” I snarl at him. “I thought I was more than some whore to you, but I guess I was wrong. God, I can’t believe I ever willingly let you touch me.”
His eyes remain hard when he says, “You forget the deal we had. I’ve been too soft on you. Too nice. Maybe you were feeling yourself very clever, that you had us wrapped around your finger. But the only one in charge here is me. Understood?”
“Oh, I understand,” I tell him bitterly. “I understand that you aren’t who or what I thought you were. Because I thought you were a real man, not a coward.” I tug hard at his hold on my wrist. “Let go of me.”
I guess I’ll be taking Silvano Cresci’s offer to get me out of here after all—assuming Konstantin doesn’t lock me away, and assuming the offer is still good. I have never been this angry in my life, even when finding out that Silvano was responsible for my father’s death.
I don’t know what that says about me.
“You will obey,” Konstantin snarls. I feel a spike of fear, and the brand on my chest aches.
This is who he really is. This is who they all are.
“Yes,” I lie, my heart pounding hard in my chest as I try to formulate a plan. It’s another few beats before Konstantin finally releases me.
I get out of the car, where the driver is waiting awkwardly, keys still in hand.
Konstantin gets out on the other side, pulling his phone out. He says something in Russian, and the only words I catch are girl and go .
I know exactly what’s going to happen once I step into the mansion. He’s going to lock me away again. He’s going to be cruel, and remind me of our initial deal, and he’s going to try to break me. Yuri and Nikolai will follow his lead because they always do what Konstantin wants.
I don’t think.
I grab the keys from the driver. He cries out, but I hop into the driver’s side and lock all the doors. The seat is too far back and the mirrors are out of alignment for me, but I don’t care. I turn on the ignition. Konstantin slams his hand on the side of the door.
“Open fucking door, Sierra!” he shouts.
“ Nyet ,” I shout back, slamming my foot on the pedal and driving the car back down the driveway. I reach for the remote to open the front gate, and thank fucking god, the gate opens in time for me to race out of there.
I don’t even know where I’m going at first. I do know that I need to put as much distance as I possibly can between me and Konstantin, as fast as I can. I adjust the seat and the mirrors at the next stoplight. I don’t hear any loud engines roaring or motorcycles coming my way. It’s normal New Bristol suburb traffic.
My phone is still in my purse in the back seat of the car, out of my reach. I need to get rid of that, too, because I know they have a tracker in it.
I should’ve disabled it when I’d had the chance, but they would’ve known and they’re always with me anyway.
Fuck.
All right. There has to be a way out of this that doesn’t involve me being dragged back to the man cave by the hair, where they’ll lock me up and use me until I’m as broken as Vanessa Pavone is.
I will never, ever end up like that.
I find myself on the interstate, and I realize I’ve instinctively started to take the route back to my college campus. That’s as good a place as any to start from, I guess. I can call Kyran and find a place to hide until we can figure out logistics. It’s big enough for me to get lost in, even at this late hour. Maybe if I head into one of the frat parties that’s inevitably going on…
I force myself to slow down because the last thing I need is to get pulled over right now, even though I cast nervous glances at the side and rear view mirrors. They couldn’t have gotten a car ready that fast, though, and I have to believe that I have at least a five minute head start.
I park in the mostly empty parking lot and search the car for anything I can use. My purse and my phone, of course. I’d expected to find a gun or some kind of weapon in the glove compartment, but there’s nothing. I find a bottle of water and gratefully take a long gulp from it while I think about my options.
I don’t actually want Silvano Cresci’s help, but I don’t know who else to call. They still have my mother in a safe house, I assume, which means she’ll be protected against Konstantin’s retribution—but it also means I can’t grab her and run this time. Fuck.
I should’ve done that when I’d had the chance.
I should’ve done a lot of things.
I fumble with my phone, finding Kyran in my contact list and tapping the screen to call him.
It, of course, goes straight to voicemail because why would it not?
I try Silvano, and while it rings a few times, it goes to voicemail as well.
I don’t have any other contacts in his organization. I don’t have access to my bank account. I don’t have anything but the fancy dress that shows off my fucking brand and these shoes that are increasingly uncomfortable as the minutes wear on.
For a moment, I feel like breaking down into tears, but that has to be the pregnancy talking. I’m not this helpless. I never have been, and I never will be.
So despite all of my reservations, despite everything screaming at me not to do it, I dial James’s number. I’m running out of time. I have to get in touch with someone , ditch my phone, and get the fuck off of campus before it’s too late.
My panic and adrenaline are making me nauseated all over again, and I fight the urge to vomit all over myself.
I tap the call button and put the phone to my ear as it starts to ring.
He answers on the third ring. “Sierra?”
Fuck my life. Fuck. My. Life.
“I need help,” I blurt out.
“Sure, anything,” he says.
I fight back a snort. Yeah. Anything. He probably has some woman over even after begging me to take him back over more emails and texts than I can count now. “Meet me in freshman parking,” I tell him. It’ll be the busiest at this time of night, hopefully, and it’s not where Konstantin and his men would think to go. “I need you to pick me up and get me the fuck away from here.”
“I’ll be there in five,” James answers. He hangs up, and I get out of the car and head toward the drop-off/pick-up area. If James can be here in five minutes, that means he was already on campus. He was definitely fucking somebody. I hope that means he’s completely lost interest in me.
All the emails he’s been harassing me with say otherwise, though.
This is a bad idea.
I try Kyran’s number again, but it still goes straight to voicemail.
So much for always being there for his baby sister.
The bitter thought isn’t fair. He has a life of his own, but it still hurts.
I grit my teeth and try Silvano again, but this time, it goes to voicemail immediately.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter.
There goes that. I’m going to be completely reliant on James now.
I really need to ditch my phone, but I don’t know any other way to reach Kyran—and if I’m going to be honest with myself, I don’t trust James enough to be without a way to contact anyone. If I can get five minutes of peace, I know I can disable the tracker. I have to get away from campus first, then I can focus on that.
I breathe out a huff of relief when I see James’s car and hurry toward it. The door opens when I try it, and I slide in. “Okay,” I tell him, breathless from the exertion of my near-run to parking. “I need a place to lay low until I can talk to Kyr— my brother.”
“Your brother knows where you are?” James asks as he pulls away from the parking lot. He doesn’t even wait for me to finish buckling my seatbelt.
“Yes,” I lie.
I see that I have 12 missed calls as I start to go through my phone, but none of them are from Kyran or Silvano—just Konstantin, Yuri, and Nikolai. Fuck them. Fuck all of them. There’s nothing they can say to make this okay, and I’m not going back.
I watch the city traffic go by as James drives. “Where were you?” I ask quietly. “Before I called. You were only five minutes away.”
James laughs awkwardly. “At a party. Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything important.”
Something about the way he says it, the semi guilty tone, lets me know he was with another woman.
Worse: he wants me to know. He’s perfectly capable of lying without remorse, so that guilty tone is for my benefit.
“You mean it wasn’t any one important,” I mutter. I shake my head.
I wish I could warn those other women, but they’re going to have to learn the hard way what kind of person James is.
“Where to?” James asks.
“My place,” I answer automatically, then wince. “Fuck. I don’t have the key.”
James stays suspiciously silent, but he takes a turn that goes toward my apartment.
“I don’t have the key,” I repeat.
“I do,” James answers. “From when you gave it to me.”
I’d completely forgotten I’d given him a key. As useful as it is right now, it makes my skin crawl. How many times has he gone inside while I’m not there? “Great,” I say, sarcasm dripping heavily from my voice.
Fuck. It’s stupid, and it’s dangerous, but all I need to do is stay one step ahead of Konstantin and his men. They don’t know where my apartment is, and they probably think the lease is already broken. I can gather up some clothes, grab whatever other useful stuff I can find, then get out of here again.
I finish disabling the tracking app on my phone, and at least there’s that. It took longer than I’d hoped, but I’ve been distracted—and I hadn’t thought this through.
There’s still nothing from Kyran or Silvano.
We get to the apartment building and take the elevator up. James uses his key to open the apartment door, and a musty smell hits me. It’s been a few months since I’ve been there, and I can tell. I bet the fridge has moldy leftovers in it.
I spot a dirty bowl on the kitchen table. Wow, I hadn’t even cleaned up before I’d headed over to my parents’ place to eat my feelings. I feel like a slob, but it can’t be helped now.
“You can leave,” I tell James. “Thanks for bringing me here. I need to get in touch with my brother, then I’ll be fine.” I force a smile.
“I can’t leave you here if you’re in trouble,” he tells me earnestly, like he actually does give a shit.
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. You’re… You’d be in danger too. There’s no sense in both of us risking our asses. Seriously, you can go.”
James scoffs. “Is this about that reedy Russian guy? I can handle him.” He flexes his bicep. “I’ve been working out.”
I burst out laughing despite myself. “That reedy… That Russian guy can more than handle anything you can try to dish out.” If I wasn’t so pissed at Yuri, I wouldn’t mind seeing James get his ass handed to him.
James scowls at me. “Hey. You clearly think I’m capable, or you wouldn’t have called me.”
I almost tell him that I was using him for his car, but something tells me to stop at the last second. “I don’t want it to come down to that,” I cajole. “I’m worried about you staying safe. The guy he works for is seriously bad news. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of him.” I grit my teeth as the familiar anger washes over me again. I still can’t fucking believe Konstantin said those things to me.
James steps into my personal space, and I back up a few steps—straight into the kitchen table.
“I’m not afraid of him,” James says, reaching out to cup my chin. “Babe, I’ll protect you.” His eyes flick down, over my brand, and his expression turns grim. “You need to be protected.”
I clutch the edge of the table and give him a strained smile. “What are you doing, James? Weren’t you with somebody else before I called? Maybe you should check in on her.”
He shakes his head. “Nah. She was nothing. Not like you. You’re so fucking hot, Sierra. And that amazing dress? Fuck, you’re trying to tempt me.”
The dress.
The thought of it reminds me of how much of my body it shows. I try to adjust it to conceal the brand, but like earlier, it’s impossible to hide the mark. “I’m not trying to do anything,” I say, trying to sound calm even as my voice cracks. “I was on a date with someone else. The father of my…” I can’t bring myself to say the words. I can’t .
James scowls. “Your baby. Because you got yourself knocked up. But that’s okay. We can get rid of it.”
Get rid of it.
He’s not the first person to suggest it, but for some reason, it hits especially hard from him. I narrow my eyes at him, staring him down. “I’m not getting rid of it,” I say, realizing for the first time that no matter what happens, I have no intention of “getting rid of” the baby growing inside of me. “So don’t ever, ever say that again.”
He lets out a nasty laugh. “Sierra, be real. I’m not going to raise somebody else’s baby. It has to go.”
“I said no,” I snap. “And you don’t get a say in it. Even if I was going to take you back—and I’m not—you still wouldn’t get to tell me what to do.” I scoff derisively at him. “Like I’d even let you try to raise my baby. Get out. I only needed you for your fucking car.”
The mask completely drops. James snarls at me and pulls me up against him. “What the fuck? No, you don’t get to do that. I don’t agree to it. You’re mine , Sierra.”
“I’m not yours!” I shout, trying to shove at his chest—for all the good it does. He might not be a worthy opponent for Yuri or Nikolai, but he’s more than a match for me. “I don’t belong to you, and I don’t belong to anyone. Not now, not ever.”
Angry tears burn in the corners of my eyes.
James leans down for a kiss.
I’m still wearing the stylish-but-not-comfortable sandals. I slam the heel down hard on his foot, and even though he’s wearing sneakers, he yelps and releases me.
I dash away from him, but I only get two steps before he grabs my wrists and slams me against the wall.
“Fuck you, Sierra,” James says with a sneer. “Slut bitch, leading me on like that. But don’t worry. I’ll convince you.” His eyes go to my stomach. “But first, I get rid of this fucking problem.”
I don’t understand what he means until he raises his fist and brings it down against my stomach.
Pain blossoms through me as I double over, then fall to the floor, but it’s not over.
He hits me again, and again, and like in every other aspect of my life, a man erases my ability to choose what happens to my body.