Chapter 11 Sima
SIMA
I run as fast as my legs will carry me.
My lungs are burning, my heart hammering so hard it drowns everything else. The cold night air stings against my cheeks, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
There’s only one thought in my head, and it’s, Get out.
You have to get out now.
The driveway stretches out forever. My shoes slap against the gravel, slick and uneven, tripping me up every few steps.
To make things worse, I keep glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Petyr bursting out of the house at any second.
Coming to drag me back, chain me to the bedposts, have his dirty way with me.
The thought sends an odd heat down my spine. Just fear, I’m sure.
I don’t slow down until I reach the gate.
The iron bars loom tall, black, and massive against the moonlight. My chest burns with the effort of my impromptu marathon. If I get out of here alive, I am taking a cab everywhere for the rest of my life.
I grab the bars, but the gate doesn’t budge. My fingers slip on the cold metal as I try to figure out a way to open it.
But there’s no latch. Despite the old-fashioned look of this gate, it must open electronically, and only with the blessing of the master of the house.
Shit.
I glance behind myself again. Any second now, he might realize I’m gone. Before that happens, I have to be much, much more gone than I currently am.
Climb. Cold sweat breaks across my back as I realize what I have to do. I have to climb.
The only problem with that?
I am terrified of heights.
I stare up at the gate, heart in my throat. There aren’t any footholds going up, but the bars do grow wider. If I can reach past the halfway point, maybe I can slip through. Maybe…
I roll up my sleeves, take a huge breath, and start climbing.
The second I pull myself up, my foot slips. Turns out, my sensible heels are not so sensible when it comes to daring, vertical escapes.
I cry out, then curse myself because that’s the second stupidest thing I could have done after slipping.
I grit my teeth and swear under my breath. Okay, fine. No heels. Barefoot works just fine for chimpanzees. It’ll work for me, too.
I try again, planting my foot on a lower rung, pulling with everything I have. My palms are already stinging from the cold metal scraping them raw, but I can’t stop. I won’t stop.
I won’t be a prisoner for one second longer.
As I look behind my shoulder, I spot movement near the house. My heart skips a beat when I realize who it is.
Shit times two.
Petyr is looking around, searching for something. If I don’t make myself scarce in the next five seconds, he’s gonna notice me. And then—
Chains. Bedpost. Babies.
Lots and lots of stubble-covered, Playboy-ripped, glow-in-the-dark-eyed babies.
Nuh-uh. No fucking way.
I start climbing faster, but it’s the wrong thing to do. My foot slips again, scraping against something sharp, and this time, the fall isn’t gentle. I hit the ground hard, knock my teeth, jar my knees.
Shit, shit, shit!
Pain explodes in my legs. In my everything, really. The scrape on my foot is shallow, but do I really want to risk tetanus and lockjaw?
I glance back. This time, Petyr and I lock eyes.
And then he’s coming.
I throw myself at the gate again, heedless of whatever infectious diseases this iron trap might hold. If it gets me out of here, I’m more than willing to blow the rest of my savings on an ER trip and a bus ticket to nowhere.
I get a little higher than before, but then my gaze darts past my shoulder again, and that’s when my grip closes around empty air. I slam back down, breath knocked right out of my lungs.
He’s in the car now. The headlights jolt awake, the engine roars to life. If that’s how he’s coming for me, five seconds won’t be enough.
I leap up one last time, desperate. My palms scrape against the metal as I scramble up, legs kicking for purchase. But this time, I’m climbing, finally, one rung after the other, the moon suddenly closer than the ground.
Just one more step. I strengthen my hold on the bars, squint up at the last black rung that’ll seal my way to freedom. One more—
And then Petyr’s hands grip me around the ankles.
I lose my footing. Permanently. I fall backwards, and this time, I know that the ground isn’t going to be kind to me, that I’m going to break something. Everything, most likely.
Until I feel strong arms catching me around the waist.
I only get one short moment of relief for that before I remember what just happened. Who caught me.
And who dragged me down in the first place.
“Let me go!” I scream, thrashing in Petyr’s grip.
He sets me down. The second he does, I spin and bolt again. But he catches me just as fast, hauls me up like I weigh nothing, and doesn’t give me the courtesy of answering my pleas this time.
Instead, he throws me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
“Help!” I start yelling, though I realize the chances of being heard are slim-to-none. “Somebody help me! I’ve been kidnapped! Somebody—”
“Will you just shut the fuck up?” Petyr growls into my ear.
When I keep squirming, he delivers a sharp smack to my backside. The shock freezes me for a second, my breath catching. A strange tingle spreads across the offended cheek, something warm and quiet and almost… not painful.
He takes advantage of my distraction to chuck me into the passenger seat. By the time I’m back to thrashing and screaming, it’s pointless.
I’m caught.
The car door shuts with a heavy thud. I stare straight ahead as he rounds the hood and gets behind the wheel, fury and humiliation burning hot behind my eyelids.
“Petyr, listen to me,” I start rambling the second we’re moving. “This is a mistake. You don’t want this. You don’t want me. We can fix this. We can annul the marriage—no one has to know. We can just call the whole thing off!”
He doesn’t respond.
“I’m a terrible wife.” I keep blurting the first things that come to mind, desperate for something to stick.
“I can’t cook. I hate cleaning. I snore.
Loudly! You’ll regret this, I promise. Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not worth it.
I mean, putting up with me? I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy! ”
His hands stay steady on the wheel, as tight as his jaw. He’s not even looking at me. He’s thinking, I can see it, but it’s not about what I’m saying.
Somehow, that terrifies me even more.
I sink back into my seat, clutching my purse like a lifeline. The dark outline of the mansion comes back into view, looming larger the closer we get. My pulse skitters wildly.
And then we’re parking, and he’s emerging, and grabbing me, and hauling me up and over his shoulder again. We mount the stairs. We step inside, swallowed up again by the darkness of the Gubarev mansion.
Then the front door closes behind us, slamming shut with the finality of death.
The lock goes click.
My last hope goes with it.