Chapter 30
Willow
The raw, dusty burn in my throat almost tore straight through me.
I slumped against a freezing concrete wall. The rough hemp rope had rubbed my wrists open. Blood and sticky scabs clung to my skin, and every tiny movement yanked on a live wire of pain.
The rag Lily had shoved in my mouth had been spit out a long time ago—like it even mattered. This busted warehouse sat out in some abandoned industrial stretch on the edge of the city. I could've screamed myself hoarse and nobody would've shown.
It had been my third day in there.
For three days, Lily and the three little trash-girls she brought hadn't given me a drop of water. Not a grain of rice.
Sometimes they strolled in with beer and takeout, sat at the wooden table a few feet away, and ate like it was dinner and a show. The salt-and-grease smell of fries and fried chicken drifted over while they smacked their lips on purpose, staring at me like I was some caged animal waiting to die.
"Damn, the fat girl can take it," the one with blue hair had said yesterday afternoon, squatting in front of me and nudging my knee with her toe. "If I went three days without food, I'd be passed out. Guess all that blubber really helps, huh."
They all laughed.
Lily leaned on the doorframe, a slim women's cigarette pinched between her fingers.
Smoke curled around her face while she smiled like she was posing for a magazine.
"Obviously. Otherwise why would Artyom pick her?
Yeah, she's a little chunky, but she's low-maintenance.
And you can play rough without worrying she'll snap in half. "
Their filthy words hit like needles.
If this had been the old me, I would've been choking on shame, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.
But then I just lifted my eyes, looked over the four of them—skinny as fence posts—then let my gaze slide away. I rested back against the wall and closed my eyes like I was saving my energy.
The truth was, I wasn't even that hungry.
I had hated this body for as long as I could remember.
In school they'd called me "fat bitch." At work people whispered "pig" behind my back.
When I shopped, salesgirls wore that fake-sorry face and said, "I'm sorry, we don't carry your size.
" Even when I slept with Artyom, I'd been terrified he'd see the soft rolls at my waist and feel disgusted.
But now the fat I'd hated for twenty-something years had turned into the reason I stayed on my feet.
Three days without food left me dizzy, weak in the hands and legs, but my head stayed clear.
I remembered exactly when they came in each day. I remembered the blue-haired girl limped a little on her left foot. I remembered Lily always fixed her hair before opening the door. I remembered the other two moved as a pair—went everywhere together, even to pee.
I waited for an opening.
Lily clearly didn't think I was a threat.
That morning they came in again, carrying beer and fresh grilled skewers. The smell hit harder than last time, smoky and rich, making my mouth ache.
They sat at the table, eating and talking about what bags they'd buy and where they'd travel once they got Artyom's ransom. They kept tossing in jabs about me—how I was fat as a pig, how I took up space just being tied there.
"Lily, does Artyom really give a shit enough to pay fifty million for some fat chick?" the ponytail girl asked, chewing on a skewer and talking through it. "He's got money. He could have any gorgeous woman he wanted. Why would he fold for her?"
Lily snorted and flicked ash. "You don't get men. They get bored of skinny. They wanna see what it's like with something soft. And she's got his kid in her belly. Otherwise why the hell would I go through all this trouble dragging her back here?"
I snapped my eyes open.
The pregnancy—no one knew. Not anyone. Just me and a doctor at the hospital.
Artyom didn't even know. So how the hell did Lily know?
Like she felt my stare, Lily turned her head toward me, lips curling with smug satisfaction. "What? Surprised I knew? Willow, you really underestimated me. Your hospital checkup records got flagged by old Andrei's people a long time ago."
Old Andrei.
I knew the name. The guy Lily had called in to help with the kidnapping.
Lily stepped closer, looking down at me like I was dirt.
"You actually thought Artyom was serious about you?
Don't be stupid. If he really liked you, would he have kept you hidden in that house for so long and never given you a title?
He thought you were new. That's it. Once you pop out the baby, you think you'll still have a place? "
I didn't answer. I just stared at her face while my heart slammed against my ribs.
Not fear.
Rage.
I'd been so damn wrong.
I'd thought Lily wanted to help me leave. I'd thought she'd felt sorry for me. When she'd gotten me into that car, I'd actually been grateful. I'd told myself she was one of the only decent things in my gray, miserable life.
What a joke. She had been poison from the start.
She'd gotten close, played kind, played helpful, all for this. She wanted Artyom's money. She wanted me—and the baby inside me—as leverage to buy whatever the hell she craved.
"Done talking?" I asked flatly. My throat scraped like sandpaper. "You are that sure Artyom will pay for me?"
Lily laughed like I'd told the funniest story in the world.
"What else would it be? If he didn't care, would he have posted people around that house?
Would he have traced it back to me? I already let it slip yesterday that you were in my hands.
Artyom is probably losing his mind right now.
He'll be here with the money soon enough. "
The blue-haired girl laughed too. "Lily is a genius. She planned it all. We bag the fat one, get the cash, and we are set for life."
They laughed like I wasn't even human.
The ponytail girl stood and went toward the door to take a call. The other two huddled over a phone, scrolling videos. Lily turned her back to me and lit another cigarette.
The flare of the lighter flashed, then died, and her posture screamed confidence.
Now.
I dragged in a slow breath and wrenched my wrists apart.
I hadn't been sitting there doing nothing for three days. I'd been grinding the rope against the wall every chance I got, fraying it down, fiber by fiber. Now I put everything I had into it—
Crack.
The rope snapped.
Lily whipped around at the sound, her smile still on her face for half a second—then she saw me standing right in front of her.
She froze, then shrieked, "How the fuck did you get loose? Grab her!"
The two girls at the table lurched up and reached for me.
I didn't dodge. I stepped into them.
I caught one girl's wrist, twisted hard. She screamed, and the beer bottle in her hand hit the floor with a sharp crash and shattered.
The other swung a fist at my face. I slipped to the side, grabbed her arm, bent, and threw her over my shoulder.
She slammed the concrete. A guttural sound came out of her, and she stayed down, gasping like she couldn't find air.
I'd said it before—those girls were too damn thin. None of them weighed even a hundred pounds. A stiff breeze could've knocked them over. They weren't built to fight me. Hell, even if I'd stood still and let them shove me, they probably couldn't have moved me.
The blue-haired girl saw it go bad and snatched up a jagged shard of the broken bottle, charging me with a wild, vicious look.
I frowned, angled away from the stab, grabbed her by the hair, and smashed her head into the concrete wall.
She didn't even get a sound out.
She folded and dropped.
It all took less than two minutes.
Three bodies lay sprawled across the floor. Only Lily still stood, pale as death, her cigarette fallen from her fingers.
"D-don't come closer," she stuttered, backing up, her hand shaking as she dug for a knife in her pocket. "I've got a weapon, okay? Don't make me!"
I didn't say a word. I walked at her, one step at a time.
No food, no water for three days—yeah, my legs felt soft. But against a woman who didn't even weigh ninety pounds? I still had plenty.
When I didn't stop, she bared her teeth, yanked out a small fruit knife, and lunged straight for my stomach.
I twisted away. My hand clamped around her wrist. I squeezed.
She shrieked.
The knife clattered to the floor.
I grabbed her chin and forced her head up to look at me.
All the smugness and swagger were gone. She looked terrified, tears trembling at the edge of her eyes. "Willow, I'm sorry. I was just—just being stupid. Please, let me go. I won't do it again. I'll let you go right now. I don't want the money. I don't want anything, I—"
"Let you go?" I laughed once, cold and sharp, anger crawling up my throat. "When you planned this, did you think about letting me go? When you used my baby like a bargaining chip, did you think about letting me go?"
I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.
The crack echoed through the empty warehouse.
Her cheek swelled instantly. A thin line of blood showed at the corner of her mouth.
"That one is for lying to me."
I lifted my hand again and slapped her again.
"That one is for going after my kid."
When I swung the third time, I heard fast footsteps at the entrance. Voices. I looked up and met Artyom's eyes.
He stood in the doorway, his suit wrinkled, his hair slightly messed up like he'd been running on pure adrenaline. His gaze hit me first—my raw wrists—then the three girls on the floor—then my raised hand and Lily's face, already half-out cold from what I'd done.
The bodyguards behind him stopped too, clearly not expecting this.
The air went dead quiet for a beat.
I released Lily's chin. She collapsed like wet laundry, a useless heap on the floor.
I dusted my hands like there was dirt on them and looked at Artyom, chin high. Proud as hell. "You are late. I handled it."
He didn't speak. He crossed the space fast.
Only when he reached me did that familiar scent wrap around me—cold cedar and something darker underneath.
Artyom looked me over from head to toe.
Then he stripped off that expensive suit jacket, careful as if I might shatter, and draped it over my shoulders. After that, he pulled me into him, hard.
Behind him, the bodyguards finally moved, swarming in to secure the scene.
His arms locked tight around me, tight enough it stole my breath. But I felt his heartbeat hammering against my ear, heavy and fast.
"Idiot," he rasped into my hair, his voice rough with something that almost sounded like it shook. "Who the hell told you to do it yourself?"
I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in, and the tension I'd been carrying finally cracked.
My eyes burned. "I'm sorry. I made you worry. I shouldn't have trusted her."
Footsteps rushed up. The head of his security team reported, respectful and clipped. "Sir, the scene's secured. Lily and two of her people are cuffed. Do you want them moved now?"
Artyom didn't let go of me.
He turned his head, his eyes cutting to Lily's unconscious body. His expression iced over, sharp as a blade. "Take them back. And get a doctor here. Treat my wife's wounds first."
I shook my head, about to act tough and say I was fine—
Then pain flared in my wrist.
Artyom's gaze dropped instantly. His face darkened. He took my hand and stared at the deep purple-red marks where the rope had bitten in, his jaw tightening.
"We're going to the hospital," he said, flat and absolute. Then he looked at the bodyguards. "Call a doctor. And clean this place up."
Artyom scooped me up in his arms.
Curled against him, I instinctively touched my stomach. "Don't worry. I'm really okay. The baby's okay."
His eyes landed on my belly, and something shifted in his face—shock, relief, something bright, and something I couldn't quite read.
He looked like he wanted to say a hundred things.
I didn't have it in me to listen. I glanced down at my hands, then at the bodies on the floor, and a laugh slipped out.
I'd spent my whole life thinking being fat was some unforgivable sin, some shame I could never scrub off. People had mocked me for it, judged me for it. I'd been too scared to even admit I liked someone, because I always thought I didn't deserve it.
But when I fought back, I finally understood.
This body had never been my burden.
It had been my armor.
It had given me the strength to survive long enough to get my chance—and to protect myself, and protect the child inside me, without waiting for someone else to swoop in.
In Artyom's arms, I closed my eyes.
And I drifted off.