12. Isabel
Isabel
Fifteen Minutes Earlier
My eyes dart around the room, searching for anything I can use against this man. Anything that might give me an edge. It’s time to dig deep. Do whatever it takes to get away.
He’s bigger than me. And I’m not at full strength. If he gets close enough, it won’t take much for him to overpower me.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” Marvin rubs his hands together in a circle as he stalks toward me. “I made it special for you.”
His foot kicks the glass still lying on the floor, and he grunts in irritation. “What? You don’t like apple juice?”
“Not particularly.” I sidestep to the right, keeping distance between us as my attention lands on a large vase atop the dresser. “Nor do I care for bologna.”
That gets his attention. His head rotating slightly, giving me the opening I need to reach the dresser.
“What a shame. I’ve learned over the years that apple juice is great at disguising the bitter taste of roofies. Still working on the sandwich part. Hard to hide it without leaving a trace. I’ll figure it out. Maybe a little spread to ensure it sticks.”
His nonchalant attitude about drugging me only fuels my temper. Now I really want to hurt him. How many other women has he done this to?
Men like him don’t deserve mercy. They deserve to suffer the same fate they’ve inflicted on their victims. Poetic justice at its finest.
I move as fast as I can, but it’s not quick enough. The vase is heavier than I expect, but I manage to lift it and send it hurling straight at him. It falls short, landing at his feet, shattering into fragments on impact.
Undeterred, he clicks his tongue. “Breaking you in is going to be fun.”
“Fuck you.”
His lips curl into a wicked grin, and my mouth goes dry.
“Oh, you will… one way or another. Keep fighting.” I feel his eyes moving over me. “It makes the game so much more enjoyable. I love it when a woman fights back.”
I grab a smaller trinket off the dresser and throw it at him, darting to my left as he lunges. It clips his shoulder but does nothing to slow him down. If anything, it fuels him to move faster.
His hand clamps onto the back of my neck, and he shoves me forward, using my momentum against me. With a sickening thud, the left side of my face slams into the wall.
The impact sends stabbing pain exploding through my right cheek as a yelp slips free. Tears flood my vision, turning everything into a hazy mess of color and emotion.
“You’ll pay for that,” I warn, forcing the words past the pain, trying to keep him focused on something other than what he’s doing. “Tell me who Rurik is.”
“Your empty threats don’t scare me.” He breathes in my ear, his voice low and cruel. “Why do you care who he is? All you need to know is that whenever he’s finished… you’re mine.”
“I’ll never be yours.” As the pain intensifies, I swallow hard, struggling to keep the bile down. “When your brother gets here, he’s gonna kick your arse.”
“You really think that will happen?” He laughs then licks my face.
My entire body recoils. Disgust hits hard and fast as I twist against him, trying to break free, but his grip only tightens.
“Now, be a good girl and hold still.”
Not a fucking chance, shithead.
His knuckles brush along the front of my body, and I surge against his hold, refusing to go still for him. I’m not going down without a fight. I’ll defy every attempt he makes to control me, no matter what.
With his weight, he presses in, trapping me. A mistake, because that frees my legs just enough for me to use them.
That’s all I need.
Using what my sister drilled into me, I drive my foot back with everything I have. Aiming blind, but striking hard—anywhere I can, and hard enough to matter.
He laughs mockingly at my failed attempts… until I land a solid blow to his knee. A howl of agony escapes him, and for a fleeting moment, his hold weakens.
I take it. Twisting, I pivot to face him.
His smug expression tells me he thinks I’ve made an error in judgement—I haven’t. This position is better. It opens him up, giving me more room to move, more ways to strike.
For half a second… I have control. Then it’s gone.
His weight slams into mine, his hand a vise around my throat, constricting my windpipe. “Now, what? I agree this is so much better.”
As his grip tightens, the lack of air makes my head swim, dizziness creeping in as my vision blurs at the edges. I fight it off.
Not yet.
I force my breathing to steady, refusing to black out before I get my chance. Once again, he’s left my legs free. When will he learn just how stupid that is?
Leaning in, he drags his nose up the side of my face, invading the little space I have left. That movement loosen his grip, allowing me to breathe marginally better.
“Are you scared?” His voice is low, almost amused. “I can smell your fear…and it fucking turns me on.”
He presses his groin against my stomach, making me acutely aware of his arousal. “My favorite is the first time. Want to know why?”
Our eyes lock, and I hold his gaze, doing my best not to show him an ounce of fear. “Because you’re an arsehole.”
His lip twists into a sneer, his gold tooth catching in the light. “The first time is always the best. After that...” His grip tightens slightly. “It changes. You lose a little more fight each time… until there’s nothing left.”
“I’ll never stop,” I spit out. “And you’re wrong.”
Once again, he pulls back, offering an opening while exposing himself. “Am I?”
I grit my teeth and sneer, nodding weakly, his hand still firmly on my neck. “Yes.”
I move without thinking. Driving both knees up hard and fast. The hit lands exactly where I need it to. Right between his legs, busting his balls.
He gasps. His grip breaks, and he doubles over, folding in half.
My feet now under me, I stumble for a second before regaining my balance. It gives me another chance to strike. This is my one shot. I have to seize it now because my body is too weak to withstand another attempt.
I’m so glad Gabby drilled this into me. Learning how to maximize impact while absorbing the force through my heel was hard but necessary. We practiced for hours until I could do it without thinking.
Now it’s instinct.
I don’t hesitate once he’s down. Planting my back leg, I strike again. The hit sends him crashing to the ground, blood bursting from his nose.
Steadying myself, I move for the door, hoping this time it will open since it locks from the outside.
He had to leave it unlocked, right?
I’m inches away from my target when he grabs me from behind and rips me back, spinning me around to face him. Blood streaks down his face, fury twisting it into something vicious.
His hand comes out of nowhere, slapping my right cheek and sending a blinding wave of pain through my head as I go down.
I barely hit the floor before his foot comes crashing into my side, rolling me over. The force sharp and sickening, drives the air from my lungs. The agonizing pain is unbearable, and bile surges up my throat.
I can’t stop it.
The small amount I’d eaten comes back up, leaving a mess on his shoe.
“You cunt!” His booming voice fills the room, amplifying the pounding in my head. “You’re in for it now!”
I crawl across the floor, driven by sheer desperation, trying to put as much distance between him and me as I can. To my surprise, I make it further than expected, but it is only a ploy.
Seconds later, he snatches that hope away.
Pain sears through my scalp as his grip tightens in my hair, forcing me to my feet. In a moment of desperation, I reach for what I hope will be my salvation.
The rough floor scrapes against my skin as he pulls me along, my head snapping with every step, leaving me disoriented, unable to fight it.
“Remember, you have no one but yourself to blame for this. Fighting me only makes it worse on you.”
He grabs my left arm and uses it to toss me on the bed, where I land awkwardly on my right side.
I can’t move.
The pain locks me in place. My chest constricts, a suffocating pressure building as I struggle to breathe before he’s on me again. The taste of fear turns metallic in my mouth.
My vision blurs, my one good eye struggling to focus. Making it difficult to see what he’s doing.
The crack splits the air.
As his belt lashes my back, a cry tears from my throat, a sound I can’t stifle.
“I’m going to whip the shit out of you before I fuck you, you little cunt. Teach you a lesson about obedience and respect.” The air splits with the sound of leather right before the next strike. “You’ll burn for days. Perhaps next time you’ll think before making a foolish choice.”
I roll just before the strike lands, narrowly avoiding the impact. “Not a chance. I’ll kick you again if I get the chance.”
The belt slips from his hand, clattering to the ground as he lunges for me. His hands clamp around my throat, vise-like, cutting off my air until a desperate wheeze is all I can manage.
He’s right where I want him.
As I raise my arms, I hold on to him with my left hand and drive the hidden ceramic shard into his neck—straight into his jugular. Blood floods his throat, thick and hot, choking off his breath as his gasps turn into wet, bubbling sounds.
He claws at the shard, panic replacing that smug control. When he rips it free, blood pours from the wound, soaking the bed. His body collapses on top of mine, heavy, the fight drains out of him in seconds.
Hot tears stream down my face, more from the relief of surviving him than the pain ripping through my body. When his convulsions finally stop, I struggle out from under him, tumbling off the bed, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
“Pull it together, Isabel,” I tell myself as I push my weak body upright. “You aren’t free yet.”
My legs wobble, but I push forward, grabbing the door handle. It gives with a satisfying click, and I can’t help but grin.
After dragging it open, I rest against the doorframe before moving into the hallway. Rows of identical doors stare back at me.
Are there others like me trapped behind them?
Thunderous footsteps rush up from behind, and I spin too fast. In my haste to flee, I stumble, crashing to the unforgiving floor, the impact jarring through my limbs.
“Fuck off!” I snap, my voice raw with anger. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you!”
The air seems to shift as the person approaches. They crouch beside me, soft fingers brushing my cheek as they tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Good to know you’ve not lost your spunk. How about we get the fuck out of here before you kill me?”
“Aiden?” I don’t know how he found me, but my suspicions about his betrayal resurface. “Fuck off.”
“Not a chance, babe.” Gently, he scoops me up, my broken body finding comfort against his powerful chest. “I’m going to kill whoever did this to you. Slowly.”
“Too late. Already took care of that,” I whisper as I lean into him, too exhausted to argue, too tired to sort through what I’m feeling.
If he’s working for Rurik, I’ll deal with him later, remove his balls with a spoon and make a pretty necklace.
Right now, I can’t think.
I just need a second. So, I let my eyes close. Rest.
Lane’s voice fades in. “Well, damn. Looks like she got to him first. How is she?”
“Bad.” Aiden adjusts me in his arms, his voice stern and lethal. “She’s out. Breathing’s shallow. No way can she walk out of here on her own.”
He’s right. I’m too weak, but I’m not out.
As more footsteps echo on the stairs, I flinch.
Is it Rurik’s men coming to make sure these men don’t leave with me?
Aiden seems to relax when Ryan speaks, his concern clear in his voice. “We need to get her out of here.”
“Russian bastards are dead.” A voice I don’t recognize announces.
Needing to see who that could be, I pry my eyes open just enough to find another familiar face—Marty. And after what I just did, I quickly close them, guilt taking over.
Aiden draws me close and nods toward the room I just came out of. “Another body’s in there. Didn’t get a name, but he’s lucky I didn’t find him first.”
“It’s his brother,” Lane reports.
“Serves him right.” Marty’s cold, unforgiving tone is surprisingly comforting. “Let’s get the fuck out of here while we still can.”
Warm hands move over me, checking my pulse. Not Aiden’s. If anything, his grip grows tighter.
“Fucking hell,” Ryan grunts. “Her heart rate’s low. We need a doctor. She’s been drugged and beaten, possibly…” He doesn’t finish.
Aiden shifts me in his arms, and we’re moving. Quickly, but in a manner that tells me it’s done with caution. I wish I were more alert so that I could watch. I bet it’s an amazing sight to see, but I’m too tired and I just want to get the hell out of here.
We make our way down the stairs and into the open, gaining speed moments later. He’s running, yet I feel completely safe. I know he won’t drop me or fall. He’s more than capable of getting us to our destination without incident.
A door creaks open, and we slip into the back of a truck. An overhead light clicks on, and Aiden growls when he gets a clearer look at my face.
The sheer intensity of his rage is a physical presence. He’s beyond angry. I’m almost afraid to look, but I do because I need to. The unspoken truth in his eyes is more than I can unwrap right now.
A door slams, and I freeze. Then breathe through it, refusing to let my attacker win, to let my fear dampen my spirit.
I force a smile, and Aiden’s stern expression melts away. “You came for me?”
“I’d burn down the world for you, princess.” Very carefully, he brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “You’re safe now.”
I nod and lay my hand on his arm. “Whenever I’m with you, I know I’m safe.”
Bringing my hand to his lips, he kisses it. A comforting warmth travels up my arm, reinforcing my faith in him.
“Rurik,” I whisper as my eyes close. “The man who took me. His name is Rurik.”
“Did you get that, Pauly?” Aiden grunts, his voice once again full of rage and something else.
I swear I hear him mutter under his breath a vow of vengeance on the man who dared to put the woman he loves in danger. How his death won’t be quick, not after what he’s done.
Is it wrong to hope I’m there when he carries that promise out?
Maybe, but I don’t care. Now if I can wrap my head around the other part, the one about me being the woman he loves.