Her Ruthless Heart (The Devil’s Plaything #3)

1. Robin

Robin

P ain splits my skull like an axe through wood.

I drift back to consciousness in pieces.

The way my tongue can’t move, weighed down and dry. The sharp ache radiating from my wrists.

My mouth tastes like it’s stuffed with bitter cotton. A steady drip, drip, drip echoes somewhere in the darkness. Water? Or something worse?

I try to move my hands and panic shoots through me, waking me completely. My wrists are bound behind me with something hard and sharp, cutting into my skin. My ankles are cuffed together with several zip ties. The chair beneath me, when I test it, doesn’t budge an inch.

The smell hits me next. Stale sweat. Mildew that clings to the back of my throat. And underneath it all, something metallic and nauseating that makes my stomach lurch.

Blood. Old blood. And new blood, too.

I swallow down the bile. I can’t throw up; I’ll choke. Because I’m gagged with something that stinks as badly as the room around me.

I breathe in slowly through my nose, trying to focus.

My eyes adjust slowly to the dim light, and the room materializes around me like a nightmare coming into focus.

Cracked concrete walls weeping with moisture, a rusty drain in the center of the floor, which is so grimy I can’t tell what color it used to be.

A single bulb dangles from a frayed cord overhead, swaying slightly as if someone just walked past.

The chair I’m tied to is bolted to the floor.

My breathing starts to race, shallow and panicked. The zip ties bite deeper as I struggle against them, sending fresh fire up my arms. I force myself to stop once more, to think.

Adrian and the kids. I remember seeing them through the windows as I took the garbage out, and then…

A man. A man getting out of his car, approaching me, talking about Eva…

The memory goes fuzzy, and it hurts to think about Eva, so I go back to thinking about Adrian and the kids. Are they safe? That’s the only thing that matters.

Heavy footsteps echo somewhere outside. Multiple sets. I strain to hear voices but catch only murmurs. More footsteps. A door slamming somewhere. Then silence that stretches until my ears ring with it.

I look around the room again. There are no cameras in the corners, although I can’t see behind me. But I’ll need to take the chance. I test the zip ties again, more carefully this time. The hard plastic scrapes against my wrists, already raw and bleeding. But maybe if I can create some slack?—

A sound near my feet makes me freeze. Tiny claws scrabbling against concrete. A rat emerges from the shadows, its black eyes reflecting the weak light as it sniffs around the base of my chair.

I jerk backward instinctively, and the rat scurries away into the darkness.

But I need to get it together. Rats are not what I should be scared of right now.

I take some more slow breaths through my nose. The air flowing into my mouth tastes like rust and decay, but oxygen is oxygen.

I need to think .

Whoever took me—he knew who I was. And he didn’t worry about hiding his face. No ski mask or hiding in shadows. I remember now that my head is clearing, how he dangled the bait for me, told me that Eva wanted to see me.

Dumbass , I think bitterly. Eva was right; I wasn’t made for her world. My naivety is still my Achilles heel.

But…wait. The man waiting to approach me mentioned Eva. This is about her . And if this is about her, then she’ll know I’m gone. And Eva Novak doesn’t let anyone take what’s hers?—

But I’m not hers. Not anymore.

The hope dies as quickly as it rose up, and I remember her words to me: Hope is the worst evil of them all .

She was right.

The footsteps return, closer now. Coming downstairs. My mouth goes dry as parchment behind the gag.

The door creaks open, and light cuts across the filthy floor in a harsh triangle.

Two figures shuffle into the room, one stocky with shoulders like a linebacker, the other lean and ferret-faced.

The bigger one has a cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke curling around a face that’s seen too many fights.

The other one taps a black baton against his palm in a steady rhythm.

I can’t look away from it, up and down, up and down.

“Well, well, well.” The big one comes right up close to me, and I catch the stink of garlic and cheap whiskey on his breath. “Eva Novak’s little prize finally woke up.”

The other one snickers. “Ain’t much of a prize anymore, huh? Looks like she’s been on the discount rack.”

Their laughter fills the small space, bouncing off the walls and surrounding me. I meet their eyes, even though my heart is trying to bash its way out of my chest.

“Oh, you got something to say?” The large man reaches out to yank down the gag, and I suck in a breath.

“Where’s my family?” My voice comes out stronger than I expected, though it cracks slightly on the last word.

They exchange amused glances like I’ve told the funniest joke they’ve heard all day.

Ferret-face wanders over and crouches down to my eye level. He reaches out with thin fingers to stroke my hair, and I jerk my head away hard enough to send pain shooting down my neck.

“You’re asking the wrong questions, sweetheart. Should be worried about yourself.”

He leans closer, close enough that I can see the yellow of his teeth, the broken blood vessels in his eyes.

“Once your bitch is dealt with, we’ll auction you off again. Hell, maybe I’ll even put in a bid myself.”

Both men burst into laughter. My vision blurs at the edges, rage and terror warring in my chest. But I force myself to hold the ferret’s gaze, to let him see that I’m not broken yet.

I keep my voice level, almost conversational. “I’d be surprised if you even live to see another sunrise.”

The laughter stops. The room goes dead silent except for the steady drip, drip, drip from somewhere in the walls. The stocky one’s cigarette pauses halfway to his mouth.

“You have no idea what Eva will do to the people who hurt me,” I go on. And as I say it, I can even start to believe it.

Start to hope.

For a heartbeat, uncertainty flickers across both their faces. Then a loud bang echoes from somewhere above us, and they both jump.

My heart jumps, too. Eva. She’s here. She came for me .

But the two men just glance at each other and burst into even louder laughter.

“Just those goddamn pipes rattling again!” The large one wipes tears from his eyes. “Jesus, girlie, you have a talent for the dramatic, I’ll give you that.”

The ferret straightens, slapping the side of my head hard enough to make my ears ring. “No one’s coming to save you, princess. We’ll kill your girlfriend the moment she gets close. Why do you think we took you in the first place?”

My heart sinks like a stone. Of course. I’m not a prize.

I’m bait.

Just like they used her name as bait for me.

The big one pulls out a crumpled newspaper and drops it on my lap. “Hold still, princess. Gotta send your girlfriend proof you’re still breathing.”

The ferret holds up a phone, grinning. “Come on now, smile pretty for the camera!”

I stare directly into the lens, letting every ounce of my hatred show.

“That’ll do,” he chuckles, lowering the phone.

The big man drops his cigarette and grinds it under his heel. “Boss’ll be here in a few hours,” he says to the other. “Let’s get organized.”

He turns toward the door. The ferret drags the baton across my shoulder and tips my face up to see his grin. The look in his eyes makes my skin crawl.

“See you soon, sweetheart.”

The door slams shut, the lock turns with a heavy click, and then there’s only the sound of their footsteps retreating upstairs.

As soon as I’m alone, my composure crumbles. My shoulders shake as I slump forward as much as my bonds allow. Tears leak from my eyes before I can stop them.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes the tears come faster. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I see my family. Adrian. Dane. Alicia. Maisie. All of them worrying, scared, waiting for me…

I’m never going to see them again.

The certainty settles over me. These men, whoever they are, are going to hurt me first—that much was clear from the way they looked at me, talked about me. And then they’re going to sell me off just like…

The Gattos.

Of course. I was too panicky to see it before, but they must be from the Gatto Family. The Boss they referenced—they meant the Gatto Boss.

I can’t remember his name. Did I ever hear it? Did I meet him? Yes. Yes, I think I did, just as I was getting ready for the auction, he came in to look over the merchandise .

I feel like I’m clawing back some control, having at least worked out who my captors are. And maybe I can learn more about them.

I force myself to focus on the sounds around me. Footsteps above. Muffled voices. The steady drip of water. If I can map their movements, maybe I can find a pattern. A weakness.

The voices grow louder for a moment, then fade. How many of them are there? Three? Four? Are they taking shifts watching me?

I have to get out of this. For Adrian, who trusts me to come home. For Maisie and Alicia and Dane, who still believe their big sister can fix anything.

I’ve been their protector since Mom died. I won’t let them down now.

But as I sit in that stinking room, blood trickling down my fingers and terror fluttering in my throat, another truth hits me.

Being away from Eva these past weeks has been like trying to live without a beating heart. Every morning I woke up expecting to see amber eyes looking into mine. Every night I reached for someone who wasn’t there.

I told myself it was over. Told myself I was better off without her cold cruelty, her hot-and-cold games. Even when things were good between us, there was a darkness there. But sitting here, facing the very real possibility that I might die, only one thing feels important.

I want to see her again.

I want to tell her that I love her— really love her, not just the passion and the intensity, but the woman underneath all that ice and granite.

The one who secretly cared for her father, who fixed the village school just because she could, who looked at me sometimes like I was the only real thing in her dark world.

Grief washes over me in waves. What if I never get the chance? What if the last thing I ever said to her was that heartbreaking goodbye in Vegas?

What if she never knows?

The thought breaks something inside me. I lean forward and let myself cry—ugly, gasping sobs that echo off the concrete walls. For my family, who might lose me. For Eva, who might never know how much she means to me. For the future we’ll never have.

But after a few minutes, the tears stop. My chest still aches, but something harder settles in its place.

I’ve survived too much to give up now. I’ve always been able to rely on myself. I raised four kids on minimum wage. I sold myself to save my family. I’ve been knocked down before, and I always get back up.

This time won’t be different.

I’m getting out of here. I’m going home to my family.

And I’m finding Eva Novak and telling her exactly how I feel, consequences be damned.