Chapter 14 #4
"I don't have them," I repeat, desperation creeping into my voice. "I never did. Diane is lying to save herself."
This time, Volkov nods to one of his men, who steps behind Greyson and delivers a brutal punch to his kidney. Greyson grunts in pain but doesn't cry out.
"Stop it!" I beg, straining against my bonds. "Please! I'm telling the truth!"
"Perhaps," Volkov concedes, rising from his chair to pace between us.
"But you understand my dilemma. Ms. Mercer insists you are the one with the recordings.
You insist it's her. Someone is lying." He pauses, retrieving something from a bag near the door.
"Fortunately, I have ways of determining the truth. "
He returns with a small case, opening it to reveal a collection of instruments that gleam wickedly in the cabin's dim light. My stomach turns at the sight.
"Mr. Reed," Volkov says conversationally, selecting a thin, curved blade. "Perhaps you can persuade Ms. Bennett to be more forthcoming. Tell her what happens to people who withhold information from me."
* * *
Greyson
Blood pools in my mouth as I watch Volkov approach Livie with that fucking blade.
Every cell in my body screams to break free, to tear these men apart with my bare hands.
I've never felt rage like this. It's beyond fury, beyond hatred.
It's consuming everything except the desperate need to protect what's mine.
"Don't you fucking touch her," I growl, straining against the ropes until they slice into my wrists. The pain is nothing. Nothing compared to the terror of watching Livie bound to that chair, her eyes wide with fear she's trying desperately to hide.
Volkov turns to me, that snakelike smile still playing on his lips. "Ah, Mr. Reed. I wonder what information you might be hiding to keep Ms. Bennett safe."
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Just don't touch her."
"Greyson, no," Livie protests, shaking her head frantically. "We don't know anything!"
Volkov's eyes narrow as he studies us both, calculating. Then his expression shifts, a new strategy forming. "Interesting. Perhaps we've been approaching this all wrong." He gestures to one of his men. "Bring me the girl instead."
My heart stops as the goon moves toward Livie. "What are you doing?"
"Testing a theory," Volkov replies, setting down the blade and picking up something that looks like pliers. "Ms. Mercer held out quite impressively when we questioned her directly. But when we threatened someone she cared about…" He shrugs. "Well, the information flowed much more freely."
The realization hits me like a sledgehammer. "No. NO!" I roar, throwing my weight forward so violently that the chair nearly topples. "You touch one hair on her head, and I swear to God—"
"You'll what?" Volkov interrupts, his voice hardening for the first time. "You are in no position to make threats, Mr. Reed." He nods to his man. "Begin with her hand. Let's see how cooperative Mr. Reed becomes when he watches Ms. Bennett suffer."
The man grabs Livie's bound hand, forcing her fingers flat against the arm of the chair. I've never known fear like this, pure, paralyzing terror that freezes the breath in my lungs.
"Wait." Volkov raises his hand, stopping his man mid-motion. "Perhaps we should try something more… psychological first." He nods to the third man who's been standing silently by the door. "Show Mr. Reed how valuable his woman truly is."
The man approaches Livie with a predatory smile that turns my blood to ice. He circles behind her chair, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders before sliding up to stroke her hair. His fingers trail through the dark strands, twisting them around his knuckles as he leans down to inhale deeply.
"Such beautiful hair," he murmurs, his accent thicker than Volkov's. "So silky."
I'm shaking, every muscle rigid with hatred as I watch his hands slide down to caress her arms, his fingers lingering at the delicate skin of her wrists above the ropes.
"Don't you think she's lovely, Mr. Reed?" Volkov asks, watching my reaction with interest. "My associate certainly thinks so."
The man continues his exploration, his hands now trailing along Livie's collarbones. She sits perfectly still, her eyes locked on mine, silently urging me to stay calm. But there's nothing calm left in me, only rage and the desperate need to tear this man apart.
I feel the rope at my right wrist giving way slightly. The constant strain has loosened it, creating just enough slack. I continue the subtle movement, flexing my hand while keeping my expression fixed in fury, which isn't difficult under the circumstances.
"Come here, Volkov," I say, my voice a deadly whisper. "Let's talk, just you and me. Man to man."
Volkov raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "You have something to tell me?"
"Information. About the recordings." I force myself to sound defeated. "But only to you."
He considers this, then nods. "Very well." He approaches my chair, leaning down so his face is level with mine. "What is it you know, Mr. Reed?"
The rope gives way completely. In one fluid motion, I free my hand, grab his expensive shirt, and yank him forward. His momentum throws him off-balance, and before his men can react, my fingers close around the knife tucked into his waistband.
I have the blade at his throat before anyone can move, my other hand still working to free itself from the loosened bindings.
"Tell your men to back off," I growl in his ear, pressing the knife hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. "Now."
"Stand down," Volkov orders, his voice remarkably steady despite the steel at his jugular.
The man touching Livie freezes, his hands still on her shoulders. The other two reach for their weapons but don't draw, caught in the standoff.
"Release her," I demand, twisting the knife slightly. "Cut her free. Now."
Volkov nods almost imperceptibly, and one of his men approaches Livie with a knife of his own. I tense, ready to slit Volkov's throat if the man makes one wrong move, but he simply cuts through the ropes binding her.
"Livie, come to me," I say, never taking my eyes off the men with guns.
She rises shakily, moving behind my chair to help free my other hand and my ankles. Her fingers tremble against my skin, but her movements are quick and efficient.
"What now, Mr. Reed?" Volkov asks, still unnervingly calm. "You can't possibly think you'll walk out of here alive."
"Maybe not," I admit, standing and dragging him up with me, keeping the knife pressed to his throat. "But I guarantee you'll die first."
I back us toward the door, Livie staying close behind me. "Your men are going to put their guns on the floor," I instruct. "Slowly."
They look to Volkov, who gives another slight nod. One by one, they place their weapons on the ground.
"Livie, grab one," I say, and she quickly retrieves the nearest gun, holding it with more confidence than I expected.
"You won't get far," Volkov says as we continue our careful retreat. "My organization has resources you can't imagine."
"Maybe," I reply, reaching the door. "But they won't help you if your throat's been cut."
I press the blade deeper into Volkov's throat, drawing more blood.
His breath hitches as the steel bites into his skin, creating the terrifying sensation that his jugular is about to be opened.
Before his men can react, I spin him around and slam his head against the doorframe, dropping him unconscious to the floor.
"Run!" I grab Livie's hand and we bolt out the door, sprinting toward the dense tree line thirty yards away. Shouts erupt behind us, followed by the crack of gunfire. Bullets whiz past, splintering bark from trees as we reach the forest edge.
I pull Livie deeper into the darkness, navigating by instinct through the underbrush. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, but she keeps pace, the gun still clutched tightly in her hand.
"Here," I whisper, spotting a dense thicket of bushes beneath a fallen tree. I guide her down into the natural hiding spot, crouching beside her. "Stay here. Don't make a sound."
"No," she protests, gripping my arm. "We need to stay together."
"They're coming," I say, hearing branches snap as the men enter the woods. "I have to take them out or we'll never make it back to the road."
Fear and determination war in her eyes. "Greyson—"
"Trust me." I cup her face, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips. "I'll come back for you. I promise."
She nods, her fingers finally releasing their grip. "Be careful."
"Don't move until I return. No matter what you hear." I brush leaves over her, concealing her further. "And, Livie? If I'm not back in twenty minutes, you run. Follow the moon, it'll keep you heading east toward the highway."
Before she can argue, I slip away, circling back toward the cabin. The gun in her hands will be her last defense if I fail.
I move silently through the forest, years of hunting with the club making me one with the shadows. Voices filter through the trees—Volkov's men spreading out, searching.
"Find them!" one shouts. "Mr. Volkov wants the woman alive!"
I spot the first man fifteen yards to my left, his dark suit ridiculous against the forest backdrop. He moves clumsily, unfamiliar with wilderness terrain. I circle behind him, Volkov's knife still clutched in my hand.
One swift movement—arm around his neck, blade across his throat—and he drops without a sound. I lower him gently to the ground, retrieving his gun before continuing my hunt.
The second man proves to be more challenging.
He moves with military precision, gun raised, scanning methodically.
I wait until he passes me, then launch myself from the shadows.
He manages to fire once, the shot going wild, before my weight brings him down.
We grapple in the dirt, his strength surprising as he fights for his life.