Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
“Ugh.” A groan creeps up my chest and tumbles from my mouth.
The sound reverberates through my head, bouncing off the inside of my skull like a tennis ball.
That is, if the tennis ball were shot out of a freaking canon at a hundred miles an hour.
My pulse pounds in my head. With each beat of my heart, pain stabs behind my eyes.
My tongue feels like sandpaper and pain lances my throat as I swallow.
What happened to me? My memory feels like a broken thing, each section unconnected and strewn about in a random order.
Clenching my eyes closed, I sift through the pieces.
Gray, I remember Gray. Despite the pain in my head and limbs, my body tingles at the memory of his hands on me, his cock inside of me, forcing the pleasure from my body.
I remember being held by him and the smell of chocolate. Cocoa! Yes, he made us cocoa. I recall the way his smile lit up his face when he delivered a tray of snacks and hot chocolate to the couch. Hot chocolate that I never drank. But what else?
I lift my hands to cradle my throbbing head.
Something scratches at my wrists and my hands won’t move.
A vision appears behind my eyes. It plays out like a movie on an old screen, grainy and dim.
An explosion, gunfire, blood. Rough hands grabbing me, the taste of blood in my mouth.
Gray, my beautiful monster, blood coating his face, his hand reaching for me.
Fuck. I should have drank the cocoa.
Fear shivers through my belly, making my muscles clench and my stomach churn.
Steeling my nerves, I pry my eyelids open.
The sight of the room I’m in hit me like a ton of bricks, and I swallow a mouthful of bile, narrowly avoiding vomiting down the front of my shirt.
Overhead lights dimly illuminate concrete walls.
The yellowed light bulbs cast an eerie glow over the rough stone, highlighting the damp, moldy patches that creep up from the floor.
Plastic bins are stacked in the corner of the room.
They remind me of the ones Mom used to keep old papers in, tucked away in the basement.
Hers were nicer. I’m not sure why, but they were definitely nicer.
These are stacked haphazardly and messily labeled with permanent marker.
I try to focus my eyes, to read the chicken scrawl on the side of the boxes, but without my glasses, it’s no use.
Not that it truly matters, but I’d like to know what kind of old junk I might die next to.
I will not die here. I will not die here.
I will not die here, some stupid, encouraging voice chants in my head.
It sounds an awful lot like mine, but it can’t be.
Though given that it feels like I’ve suffered a blow to the head, maybe it is.
Maybe a head injury has rewired my brain into believing it can be optimistic.
Focus, Ava! It screeches inside of me.
I inhale a shaky breath, cringing as the sour taste of mildew slides over my tongue.
“She’s awake,” a gruff voice sounds from behind me. “Tell the boss.”
I whip my head behind me, wincing at the pain that shoots through my neck at the abrupt movement.
Standing at the far end of the room, their backs pressed against the wall, three men stare at me.
Their eyes rove over me. Like a physical thing, their gaze touches me.
It prods at me, reminding me that the only thing covering my body is Gray’s shirt.
One of the men steps forward, his boots stomping across the floor until he’s standing only inches away.
He steps in front of me and I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s no longer at my back.
I tilt my head up, craning my neck to look at him.
There’s something familiar in his dark eyes.
My eyes travel down to his neck where brightly colored tattoos peek out from beneath his shirt collar.
Then downward, to where his muscular arms are crossed over his chest. The skin of his forearm is marred, marked with angry, red scratches and a nasty looking bite mark.
Then I remember. I pinch my lips together, trying to keep from grinning at the damage I caused him.
He notices the direction of my eyes and his lips turn down into a scowl.
“Not this time, cara,” he grumbles.
He reaches a hand toward my face and I flinch, expecting the worst. I pinch my eyes shut as his fingers trail down the side of my face, his touch gentle.
My stomach quivers in disgust at the feel of it.
I move to push his hand away, but pain slices into my wrists.
My eyes pop open and I force my head down to look at them.
It’s only then that I realize I’m bound.
A rope wraps around my wrists, tying me to the wooden chair beneath me.
Unable to break free, I do the only other thing I can, the thing that I’m best at.
I make myself small. Shrinking back into the chair, my shoulders draw inward and my chin presses toward my neck.
A deep chuckle rumbles through him. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together, bella.”
The lust in his voice makes my insides shrivel. I can feel the tears burning behind my eyelids, but I refuse to let them fall. I won’t let them watch me break.
Click, click, click.
The measured steps of high heeled shoes echoes through the room. Tall, Dark, and Scary rips his hand away from my face, quickly stuffing them into his pockets. He steps away from me, his eyes cast downward. A tremor crawls up my spine. Who can make a man like this afraid?
A feminine laugh jingles through the small space, its tone delicate and sultry. My eyelids shoot open. Standing in what seems to be the only doorway in the room is a woman. Confusion muddles my brain as my eyes pour over her. This is the boss? A woman?
Her designer pumps clacks against the concrete as she steps toward me.
She taps a manicured, red fingernail against her hip before picking a piece of invisible lint from her white pencil skirt.
She cocks her head, her dark hair rustling over her silky blouse.
It falls over her shoulder like a wave of silk that dips between her breasts.
With her thin frame and fitted clothes, she looks like a supermodel.
I shrink further into my chair. Her chocolate eyes meet mine and I freeze, my muscles tensing as if they sense the danger within her gaze.
A ghost of a smile twitches at the edges of her red-painted lips. “So, this is who Grayson has chosen? This mousy little thing?” Her lip curls as she drags her fingers through a lock of my hair. She drops it and wipes her hand over the front of her skirt.
“What do you want with me?” The words grate over my dry tongue, but at least my croaked voice hides the way my voice wavers.
“Oh, topo,” she chuckles, “surely you know who you’ve been in bed with.” A smile peels across her face, her lips rocketing up into her pronounced cheekbones. Crinkles form beside her eyes, showing some of her age, or at least what’s not hidden by Botox. “Or has he not told you what he is?”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip. Say nothing, a voice whispers through my head, give her nothing.
“I wonder if I have you to thank, topo,” her voice holds an air of humor that isn’t reflected in her eyes, “since it must have been you that had Grayson distracted enough to fall into my trap.”
My brow furrows in confusion and her smug smile widens.
“I set your boyfriend up to take the fall for killing a rat that snuck out of my house.” She looses a heavy breath, her fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt.
“But of course, it didn’t all go according to plan given that he was meant to die during that job.
I was going to leave it alone, let it play out, thinking that those Bratva assholes would have killed him straight away.
That is, until my men saw him coming out of Mikhail Volkov’s club. ”
Her words swim around in my head, morphing my thoughts into a confusing jumble of nonsense.
A painful knot forms in my stomach. The ache climbs up my esophagus, making my throat clench.
There’s so much that I don’t know about the world Gray lives in.
There’s so much that he hasn’t told me. My fists clench behind my back, the motion making the ropes scrape against my sore wrists.
I’ve read enough books about villains and mafia men to know better.
I should have asked these questions. But those were just books.
They weren’t real. But this? This is definitely real.
“God,” the woman's scoff pulls me out of my thoughts, “you really are dense. I’ll spell it out for you, very slowly since I suspect you need that. My family has been at war with the Volkovs for years. Grayson was the perfect weapon to bring them down a peg. That’s all he’s really good for, anyway.”
My eyes narrow on her, heat climbing up my face as anger begins to simmer in my veins.
She inches forward. I try to move away, but I’m locked in place.
Her fingers wrap around a lock of my hair and she yanks my head to the side.
Hot breath ghosts over my face as she whispers in my ear.
“And so here you are, my little bit of revenge.”
My head snaps back as she releases the strands from between her bony fingers. My muscles scream at the odd movement, but I mask the pain on my face. I won’t let her see it.
“He’ll come for me,” I spit between gritted teeth.
Her laughter roars through the room. “Oh, that’s just precious! Do you think he loves you, topo? Men like Grayson aren’t capable of it. But it really doesn't matter because he’ll be dead very soon.” She lets her voice trails off before she mutters, “if he isn’t already.”
Dead? My eyes widen and ice shoots through my veins.
My fingers twitch at my back, splinters of the tough rope jabbing under my fingernails.
No, no, no, no, that little voice inside of me screams, he won’t.
He can’t. Not now that he’s mine. Not now that I love him.
I blink against the salty tears that burn in my eyes, refusing to let her see them.
“Now,” she purrs, “be a good girl and I’ll make sure my men play nice with you.”
A throat clears behind us before a masculine voice says, “Bianca, you’re needed upstairs.”
My eyes droop as the bitch sashays out of the room, a wave of bone-deep exhaustion finally hitting me. At least now I know her name.