Chapter 25
CHARLOTTE
5 Years Later.
Moscow.
A searing pain rips through my face as Vlad’s deep, gravelly voice slices through my sleep. My body shakes as I open my eyes. My wrists sting and burn as I tug on the rough, cold chains, the metal biting into my skin.
“Time to wake up, whore,” he spits in my face.
I keep still and quiet. If I behave, I will see my daughter. If I fuck up, I stay chained here.
My limp arms fall, and before I can sit up, his rough hand closes around my throat, the pressure pinning me to the mattress.
“Today is a special day, isn’t it?” he asks, stroking his index finger over my lip.
I search his dark eyes. He looks at me with pure hatred.
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
I have to be careful. It’s not just myself that I have to fight for now.
“How could you possibly forget, maylshka?” He pauses, and his jaw ticks. I choke on a cough as his fingers tighten around my throat.
“Today is the anniversary of Isabella’s conception. Or shall we call it the date my slut of a wife bedded another man?” He says her name with such malice, it almost makes me feel sick.
Pulling me up by my neck, he forces his face close, his stale, smoky breath a suffocating wave.
This isn’t going to go well for me. It hasn’t in the past four years. He won’t kill me, not yet anyway.
He made that clear the night I tried to escape. Even with a blade plunged through his stomach, there was no getting out.
He has more hold over me now than he ever did. Despite my father being gone, the threat over my own daughter outweighs that. I get sent out on the most treacherous jobs; why? Because he knows I will always return to Isabella.
There is no way out for me from this prison.
A sinking feeling appears in my gut. Today is the anniversary of the last day I felt alive.
I wonder what happened to Jimmy?
The jarring impact of Vlad’s hand on my head snaps me out of it, my skull protesting with a dull ache as it is forced to the side.
“What do you have to say to me today?”
As he yanks back my hair and licks my throat, a shiver runs down my spine before he parts my legs.
“I’m sorry.” I make it sound as genuine as I can. I’ve almost perfected this scared, innocent act.
I’m begging for forgiveness when, in fact, all I want to do is slice open his chest. This time, fatally.
“Whore,” he whispers, his fingers digging into my thigh. I resist cringing. I am numb to this now.
A sharp intake of breath escapes me as he snakes his arm around my waist, his grip on my tender wrists a burning brand. Welts on top of scars. I gave up begging him to stop chaining me to the bed.
He doesn’t trust me not to kill him in his sleep. I suppose he’s clever in that respect.
Instead, now if I have a job coming up, he won’t do it as tight. It might impact my work.
I close my eyes and take myself back five years to the day. How it felt to have Jimmy’s hands on me.
How he set me on fire with his words, with his touch, with everything.
He cared about me.
He, even now, is still the light in this nightmare I live.
I tug down on the sleeves of my hoodie when I open the door to Isabella’s room.
“Mommy!” she squeals excitedly, jumping into my arms.
“Hey, baby.” I hold her tight, breathing her in.
“Uncle Drago said we are doing maths today,” she says in a grump, and I laugh.
“Math is important.”
A deep frown creases her forehead as her face scrunches up in a pout, her lower lip jutting out.
“Can we do fighting after?” She gives me a cheeky grin. She reminds me of her dad when she does that.
She’s mischievous like him and knows what she does and doesn’t want. Just like him.
“If you do your math, we can do some training, yes.” I place her down on her feet and she slides her hand in mine, dragging me over to her painting bench.
“Wow, that’s pretty, baby.”
She takes a seat and gives me a brush smothered in pink paint.
“I drew you and me.”
“I love it. I can put it in my special notepad.”
She looks up at me.
“Can you tell me what my daddy looks like?”
I sigh and sit cross-legged on the floor next to her. Vlad wants nothing to do with her, so I told her the truth that he isn’t her daddy as soon as I thought she could comprehend it.
I never wanted her to think her father could be so evil.
I feel sorry for her, never being able to leave this house. But it’s best for everyone she’s kept a secret, much like I am. Vlad is scared of Tatiana; that is something I am sure of, that is why our lives rest on the fact she does not know we are here. To her, I’m just a childless contract killer. She has no idea what her brother is really up to. That alone keeps us alive.
The second she does find out, we die. That is the agreement Drago managed to secure with Vlad. And that is why we have to find an alternative.
Drago’s influence and power between the siblings has been enough to keep us alive, but for how much longer, I don’t know.
“How about I draw him with a pencil in my special journal?” I ask her.
I wonder what Jimmy looks like now.
Sometimes I wonder if she would be better off with him and just let me rot here.
But then she smiles at me and she keeps me alive.
Grabbing the black leather pad I keep in a draw, it’s how I make notes of important contacts, dates, names. Anything I can use.
And it’s locked up in Isabella’s school room. We can’t leave the property, so Drago has become responsible for her learning, on top of keeping tabs on me. A pain shoots through my chest. He never asked for this life. He stumbled on me in the basement and ever since has held the burden.
“Did someone say numbers?” Isabella’s bright blue eyes light up when Drago’s voice booms through the room.
“Mommy said I can fight after!” Isabella sasses back.
I sheepishly turn to face him, and he raises a brow.
“Did she now? And is Mommy in a fit state to fight?” He tilts his head. He’s worried about me. I know that.
I almost lost my mark last week. My task has been to remove any remaining men that were once part of Ivan Volkov’s army. It’s safe to say a few of them know how to fight, and I got caught between a wall and a knife.
Instinctively, I rub on my sore wrists. This is not helping.
“I’m always ready.”
He nods, stepping past me and crouching next to Isabella.
“How about you go get the whiteboards and pens, sit at the table and wait for me? I just have to speak to Mommy real quick.” He taps her shoulder, and she nods, jumping off her little seat.
I wait for her to be out of earshot.
“Talk to me about?” I ask, pushing my feet into frog pose to try to relieve some tension in my hips.
“A job.”
I shrug. The usual.
“Anything interesting?” I ask, almost uninterested. I’d rather be here, homeschooling Isabella and plotting my escape.
“We need to talk in private later.” The vein on his temple protrudes. That’s never a good sign.
“How?” I throw my arms in the air.
“I’ll speak to Vlad. Meet me in the office after Isabella goes to bed.”
Drago stands and brushes off his suit jacket.
“That’s good. Like life can’t get any worse,” I mumble under my breath.
“Charlotte. Suck it up. You are alive and so is your little girl. Not a hair on her head has been harmed. I am doing my best, and so are you. Stop this fucking pity party. You’ll get yourself killed, and then what happens to her? What kind of mother does that?” he hisses, his eyes darkening, and I jump to my feet.
Within a second, I’m in his face, fists clenched by my side.
“Say it again, Drago, and I’ll fucking drop you on your ass. I might be a bit defeated at the moment. It’s been a rough few weeks. But I’m still in there.”
A slow smile spreads on his lips as he steps back.
“There she is. Keep going. Find her again. The fighter who takes no shit. I need her.”
I blink a few times.
“What has he got me wrapped up in?” I ask quietly, and Drago shakes his head, looking at Isabella.
“Not here.”
I suck in a breath. Here we go.
I’m trapped worse than ever before. Even after he murdered my father after the birth of Isabella—my punishment for getting pregnant and running from him. He knew he now had someone more important to keep me in place.
My daughter.
And the threat that she would suffer the same fate.
The seriousness on Drago’s face tells me this isn’t good.