18. Sienna
SIENNA
H e didn't even give me time to speak. That frosty wall back in place between us after one phone call.
My heart leaps out of my chest, and I hit pause on the TV.
Russia? That's bad, right? I'm not getting any closer to returning to London or New York. What if I never make it out of Russia?
A flutter of hushed Russian pricks at my ears from unfamiliar voices. It's only ever Andrei or Sergey who stand outside my door when Nikolai isn’t attending to me personally.
I creep over to the door and press my ear to it, eavesdropping. “If no one is out here guarding the door, doesn’t that mean she’s by herself? We can go in and make it look like she did it herself. We can be done with this job. I’m fucking over this babysitting gig. ”
“We’re sitting ducks here if the Armanis find us. We’re just being used as pawns, and I don’t want to lose my life over some blonde bitch.”
My heart freezes.
Fuck, this is bad.
I’ve seen the way the men here—excluding Nikolai and Andrei—look at me, like I’m a nuisance, an object rather than a person.
Run . Instinct tells me to flee. But where to? My gaze immediately goes to the window. Is it worth the risk? I might do the job for them if I break my fucking neck in a fall.
“The Armanis are definitely watching us. The power outage at the cabin had to be their doing. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can return to the boss and soak up his appreciation for a job well done. Everyone else feels the same.”
“Maybe we should have our fun with her first.”
“And risk Udav ’s wrath if he finds out?”
“So we don’t let him find out. I know where the spare key to her room is. You stay here while I get it.”
I’m already moving, hurrying to drag the chair from the corner and wedge it under the doorknob. This is the only way I can delay the inevitable.
Fucking stupid Nikolai. He’s always been so careful to make sure I’m safe in here, yet these assholes are moments away from getting in.
And when the fuck did I start depending on him for my safety ?
This is my chance. As stupid as it may be.
I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, an outfit better suited for scaling down a fucking fort.
I’m out of my fucking mind. I restart the TV show, hoping the noise will help to mask my escape.
I opt for bare feet since I only have shoes that are more for aesthetics than function.
And when I run, I’m going to fucking sprint for my life.
My heart races as I quickly work the window’s lock with my hairpin.
When I open the window, my gaze narrows on the ocean in the distance.
I need to avoid the town. No one close will help me.
I have to find a way to the mainland and then figure out how to call my father and friends.
But I’ll get to that. Right now, I need to focus on getting out.
When I look down, though, my stomach sinks. There’s a thick enough branch to land on, but that’s if I land on it and don’t slip. Then my gaze sinks to the ground. Fuck me. What if I miss the branch?
I sharpen my resolve, frustrated with myself. I’ve become complacent. These men have been waiting for an opportunity to hurt me. So why have I fallen under some kind of assumption that everything will be okay just because Nikolai tells me so?
I’m not a damsel in distress waiting in some tower.
I’m more capable than I realize. If I’ve learned anything over these last few weeks, it’s that.
I might’ve been raised to survive social circles, but I’ve learned I can do other things too.
Like jumping out of a second- story window, skillfully landing on a tree branch, and scaling down it effortlessly.
Yep, that’s me , I try to convince myself, but even my inner voice is sarcastic.
I look back at the door when I hear another person speak. I have to move. Now. A nauseating swirl hits my stomach as I look back down, but I purse my lips and look at the base of the tree branch. I need to aim for that.
Slowly, I climb onto the window frame, the cool air of the evening hitting my face and tangling my hair. Okay, I can do this.
Without a second thought, I jump. My body comes to life, the adrenaline running its natural course as I fly through the air. But gravity is quick to take my wings. I tunnel out everything and focus only on the landing spot.
My body collapses against the tree, and I cling to it for dear life, my nails acting like claws as I dig them into the bark. And then I look down. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
No. I will not cower.
I find my next branch and jump to it. Then I find another and another before I land on the soft grass. My feet and hands are scratched up from the bark and my awkward landing, but none of that matters right now. All that matters is that I run.
I look back up at the window, appreciating my efforts to not kill myself in the process of my escape. Then I hear the banging and rattling against the door .
Run. Like now.
My legs pick up speed, and I’m running into the line of trees. My heart is pounding, my breathing heavy as I hear shouting behind me. Fuck, what will Nikolai do to me if he catches me?
I push the thought out of my mind. No, I can’t think like that. I didn’t come this far, only to run back to my kidnapper with my tail between my legs.
It’s a reality check remembering that Nikolai is my kidnapper .
I run for what feels like forever but is probably only a few minutes, a cold sweat breaking over my skin.
My gaze darts back and forth, trying to make out shapes in the shadows. I raise my hand as a branch hits me in the face, slapping its tiny, finger-like leaves across my skin.
“Hey!” I hear someone yell, and my entire body shifts into survival mode. Run like you’ve never run before.
The men shout in Russian, but I don’t focus on that.
Just run, Sienna. Use these long-fucking legs you were born with.
There’s movement in my periphery, and my heart stutters as I’m tackled from the side. It knocks the breath out of me as we roll down a hill, scratches carving up my exposed arms, and a heavy body falls on top of me .
I try to wriggle free, and when my eyes open, I’m terrified. The man on top of me is snarling. And I know he hates me.
I fight against him, but his weight pins me to the ground, and a growing fear clogs in my throat.
“Pretty things are only useful when they’re obedient,” he snarls in Russian.
Another man runs over, his breath coming out sharp as he says, “We should take her back to Udav . How did she even get out?” He looks back toward the manor.
“Or we can be done with this bullshit job. We can say she fell and snapped her neck.”
My heart sinks when I realize Nikolai really was protecting me from these men. It was never about keeping me locked in but keeping them locked out.
I bring my knee up between his legs, smashing his balls, and he curls into himself as I push him off. I go to run, but the other man yells, “Halt!” I skid to a stop, then slowly turn to face him, looking down the barrel of his gun.
Everything stings, and that fear I’ve been trying to push down and control comes creeping back in.
“You stupid bitch!” the one on the ground says, then pulls out a knife, his face twisted into a vicious snarl.
Bang!
I flinch at the sound, expecting to feel pain, but instead, the man with the knife jolts to the side, dropping dead.
My eyes grow wide as I see the glisten of blood quickly seep into the ground.
My gaze flashes back to the man who was holding the gun, but he’s no longer looking at me.
His gun is pointed toward the trees, as if searching for the predator.
I freeze the moment I see the flash of angry green eyes.
“ Udav , the prisoner?—”
Nikolai is behind him in a blink, the man not hearing his approach.
I can’t look away as I watch the man drop the gun, grappling with Nikolai’s forearm that wraps around his throat and severs his breath.
My mouth opens and closes, and my stomach turns with terror as the man’s eyes roll into the back of his head, his sounds barely audible, until he goes completely limp.
Nikolai maintains a terrifying calm as he releases the man and watches him fall forward and roll down the small hill. Then his gaze slides to me, and I feel the terror constricting my lungs. I understand now why they call him Udav .
This is not the Nikolai I’ve come to know over the past few weeks. The man who protected me, taught me to throw a knife, and fucked me better than anyone ever has. No, the man who stands before me now is nothing but a lethal, soulless shell.
“You made a mistake tonight, little doll.” His voice is distant and cold. My entire body burns, and I fold forward, bile rising from my stomach. The buttery taste of popcorn burns as it comes back up.
I heave again, my lack of athleticism along with what just happened catching up to me.
“ Udav ,” Andrei calls as he appears with another two men. When he spots the dead bodies, he asks in Russian, “What happened?”
“They tried to damage the package,” Nikolai replies coldly, also in Russian. “I’m sure the boss would disapprove of them stepping out of line.”
I look back up at him as he holsters his gun and walks over to me. I step back, and his gaze narrows. “Now is not the time to test my patience. I told you there are consequences when you disobey me.”
“They were going to hurt me,” I bite back, yanking out of his grasp when he goes to pull me by the elbow. “They all hate me here. The moment you were gone, they spoke about—” I suck in a sharp breath as his gaze narrows.
Fuck.
I’ve just inadvertently admitted that I can understand Russian.
“Seems like I underestimated you, mishka ,” he says in Russian, so quietly that only I can hear. “I won’t make that mistake twice.”