Chapter 28
ELLE
The air in this room smells like bleach. Cold, metallic, suffocating. Every breath tastes like dust. The overhead light hasn't gone off once since they dragged me in, and it makes time impossible to track.
I stopped counting somewhere between panic and numbness. When I lived in this building before, I was given a prison meant for a princess.
Now my mother can't be bothered to care where I'm kept, as long as I'm kept quiet.
For hours, I screamed. Shouted. Begged. Prayed she'd remember I'm pregnant. That some scrap of empathy would surface.
But empathy isn't in Gayle's dictionary. If I had a baby on my hip, she'd have thrown us both in here without blinking.
The door's locked. Windows boarded. The only sounds are the vent's hum and the occasional laugh from the guards outside. Every set of footsteps in the hall makes my heart lurch.
Natalia was here for a while. Beside me. Crying and begging for us both, like she has a conscience. All it did was make the guards laugh and make me hate the sound of her voice.
Hours ago, they came for her. She didn't come back. I should care. I don't. She put my baby and me here. That little liar. If I get out of this, I'll kill her myself.
I sit on the bed, knees to my chest, wrists rubbed raw from zip ties, hair a wreck, head aching from crying until nothing came out. I'm so tired that even fear feels like background noise.
I press my palms over my eyes until I see stars. The thought of Egor's hands on me, his voice in my ear, makes my stomach lurch. Gayle is capable of anything. I thought marrying Nikolai meant she couldn't touch me anymore.
God, how stupid I was.
The door clicks.
I jerk upright, heart pounding, expecting one of Gayle's goons.
It's Jeffrey.
For a second, I don't recognize him. Thinner than I remember. Older, maybe. Or just tired. The last time I saw him, he was standing by the car when I left this building as Nikolai's newly promised bride. He didn't stop me. Just gave me that tiny nod that said go.
And now here he is.
"Jeffrey?" My voice cracks.
He shuts the door quietly. "You look like hell, kid."
I want to laugh at a friendly face. Instead, a lump the size of a fist lodges in my throat. "What are you doing here?"
He glances at the camera in the corner, then back at me. "Working. Same as always."
"For her?"
"For now."
He crosses the room and kneels in front of me. Something in his face. Guilt, maybe. Or the weight of loyalty when it's aimed at a monster.
"She's going to sell me, isn't she?" I whisper.
His jaw flexes. "Egor's men are already in the city."
Everything inside me collapses. My throat burns. I grab his sleeve. "Please, Jeffrey. You've known me since I was a kid. You said you'd never let her hurt me."
He looks at me for a long moment. Then leans in, voice barely a whisper.
"That's still true."
The world goes still. "What?"
He glances at the door. Reaches into his jacket. Pulls out a small black handgun and slides it under the blanket beside me.
"Jeffrey..."
Finger to his lips. "Don't talk. Don't cry. Don't make a sound." His eyes are steady, softer than I remember. "You remember how to shoot?"
I nod. My hands tremble as I feel the cool metal under my palm.
"Keep it close. Anyone comes in that's not me, you shoot first. Don't think. Don't wait."
For a second, I forget how to breathe.
Nikolai.
A sob hits my throat before I can stop it. Jeffrey gives me the smallest, saddest smile.
"He's coming for you, kid. Don't make it harder for him."
I bite my lip until I taste blood. The look on Nikolai's face the last time I saw him. The cold, steady rage. The way he stared at me like he was making a promise with his eyes that his mouth couldn't safely say.
I've never seen that kind of love. Not from anyone.
The kind that burns and breaks and saves all at once.
Jeffrey adjusts his jacket. "I'll be close. Stay low. Keep quiet."
Before I can thank him, he's gone.
The lock clicks. Silence rushes back.
I sit gripping the gun, fingers slick with sweat. The weight feels wrong and right. I want to believe. I want to believe he's coming.
But the world has taught me better than that.
Still. I can't stop hoping.
I imagine him out there, tearing through whatever hell Gayle built, and I know. I know he's coming.
I feel it in my bones.
Then the first gunshot tears through the silence.
I jump. Heart slamming. Another shot. A third. Then screams.
I crawl off the bed and crouch behind the dresser, gun clutched to my chest, body shaking.
Chaos outside the door. Boots pounding. Someone yelling they're here! Another voice: cover the north hall!
Jeffrey's voice, close, right outside: "Stay down! If anyone tries to take you, shoot them!"
I can barely breathe. "What's happening?"
He doesn't answer. I hear him run.
Seconds stretch into forever.
I stay behind the dresser, finger on the trigger, metal digging into my palm. The lights flicker. My ears ring from gunfire echoing through the walls.
I count shots. Like they'll tell me who's winning.
A sound at the door. Not the handle. A thud. Then another. Someone testing the lock from outside.
I raise the gun. Both hands shaking. If it's not Jeffrey, if it's not Nikolai, I shoot. That's what he said. Don't think. Don't wait.
The lock gives. The door swings open.
A man I've never seen fills the doorway. Armed. Not one of Gayle's. Different tactical gear, different stance. He sees me, sees the gun in my hands, and raises one palm.
"Mrs. Ivanov." Calm. Professional. "Viktor sent us. Your husband is two floors up. We're clearing the building."
My arms drop. The relief is so sudden it nearly takes my legs out.
"Where's Nikolai?" I manage.
"Coming to you. Stay here. Stay low."
He moves on. More men behind him, sweeping the hallway with military precision. Not the sloppy thugs Gayle hired. These are trained. These are Viktor's best.
The sounds of fighting get closer. Louder. Then closer still. I hear Nikolai's voice somewhere above me, shouting orders, and the sound cracks something open in my chest that I didn't know was sealed.
He's here. He's actually here.
I press my back against the wall, gun still in my hands, and wait. The building shakes with another round of gunfire. Glass breaks somewhere. A body hits a floor hard enough to make the ceiling rattle.
Then footsteps. Fast. Getting closer.
The door pushes open.
And there he is.
Nikolai.
He looks half-alive. Drenched, eyes bloodshot, a bruise forming on his jaw. His chest heaves like he's been running through hell itself. His shirt is torn at the shoulder and there's blood on his hands, though I can't tell whose.
When his gaze finds me, it's like air rushing back into a vacuum.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then I set the gun down carefully on the dresser, and run.
He catches me halfway across the room. His arms wrap around me so tight it knocks the breath from my lungs. My hands clutch his shirt, my face pressed to his chest, and I breathe him in. Rain. Smoke. Gunpowder. Nikolai.
"I've got you," he says. Voice raw. Wrecked. "You're okay. I've got you."
I hold on like the world will end if I let go.
Then I see her.
My mother. In the doorway. Gun raised.
"Nikolai..." I try to pull him sideways, pointing, my voice strangling on the warning. "Gayle!"
A sound splits the air.
A gunshot. So close it burns my ears.
I scream.