Chapter Ten
Not This Again
Willow
B efore I am even able to claw my way back to the waking world, I feel the pain. My back aches and burns and I know that damage wrought will leave a new layer of marks to bear witness to the crimes committed against me.
I honestly thought I was past this bullshit after my uncle died but it seems like I am caught in a cycle that continues to repeat itself. Men in our world would rather beat a woman into submission than try to enjoy her backbone. Not that Kirrill gives a shit either way.
As long as he can sell me for a fortune he couldn’t care less what state I am in, as long as I’m still breathing.
Slowly, I shimmy my way over to the edge of the bed while remaining on my stomach, before allowing my feet to touch the floor. I gingerly stand, breathing through the stinging pain as my skin moves with every small action.
Looking around the room, I see a bathroom which I will not be using unless the world is on fire. I can only imagine the amount of surveillance equipment set up in this space. I don’t give a shit about nudity but I sure as shit will not be giving these sexist pigs a show.
The handle rattles before the door pushes open. Kirrill enters dragging a small dark haired woman behind him.
“Clean her and make sure she is ready for tonight,” he orders, before leaving, the lock clicking into place once more.
I stare at the waif before me. She is so skinny that I can see her ribs through the navy blue dress she is wearing. Although she looks like she could fall over in a light breeze, her hair is clean and combed and she is dressed neatly.
“What does he expect you to do?” I ask, keeping hold of my temper by a thread.
“I need to make sure you are clean and presentable.”
“And if I fight you? Because we both know I would win.”
A set of the palest blue eyes I have ever seen lock with mine piercing me down to my soul.
“I will receive the same treatment you did upon arrival.”
Fuck! If they hit her as hard as they did me they will break her. Literally.
“Fine. But I won’t undress.”
Not that it matters. I am basically naked. Dressed only in the pair of panties I was wearing and a torn shirt, I could just as well not be wearing anything.
“I will help you change so the cameras don’t catch anything,” she says softly.
Called it. Fucking criminals and all their goddamned cameras.
“What is your name?”
“Noelle.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t.”
She throws her shoulders back and tilts her chin up, making her way to the bathroom.
She has some fight left inside her even if it only shows for only fleeting moments.
Inside I hear the water running and I carefully walk toward the entrance.
I watch her add Epsom salts to the water and even though I know it will burn like a bitch I am grateful for the small measure to avoid infection.
“I need to see your back,” she says, moving back toward me. “Narcisco rarely hits hard enough for stitches, but I need to make sure.”
With a nod I turn and release the material I have clutched to my chest even though I still keep my breasts covered. Her fingers barely touch me as she takes in all the new marks.
“Have you been here before?” she asks, her voice cracking.
I know she is looking at the crisscross pattern of the marks my uncle’s man put on my back all those months ago.
“No. Not all monsters hide. I used to live with mine.”
For long moments neither of us speak before I hear her move.
“Sit on the edge of the tub. I will clean your wounds and apply ointment. You will need stitches to one of them and I will do that as well.”
Who the hell is this woman?
Strangely, she reminds me of Thalia but without the spunk.
Is this what my friend lived through? From what I’ve learned she has lived through so much worse.
I send up a silent prayer that Rafe will find me before it gets any worse, but I already know the odds are not in my favor.
I need to prepare myself for the possibility that I will never see my husband, brother, or friends again.
I would rather die than allow these bastards to violate me.
Rafe and Dom have been hunting this piece of shit for years and haven’t found him.
This is the closest any of us have been to him and I can’t even put a bullet in him.
I suddenly wish Rafe was even more possessive.
I know some men track their wives with devices put into jewelry but Rafe wouldn’t do that. If he had, he’d already be here.
My heart aches for my husband as the strange woman washes and patches every inch of me before helping me get dressed in a corner of the room while holding a towel in front of my body.
Through the beating I didn’t cry a single tear, and I didn’t make a single sound. But slipping on the white sundress that has been supplied for me has a sob breaking free before a tear slips down my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Noelle says softly, not making eye contact.
“It’s not your fault,” I say a moment later once I regain my composure.
“All the same. I know what comes next and I am sorry.”
I nod. Her words send a shiver of fear running down my spine even though I hold myself back from crying once more. Tears won’t do me any good in this situation. I don’t have the luxury of letting myself fall apart right now.
Once more, the lock rattles before the door swings open. The man who tried to beat me into submission last night takes me in before nodding.
“Please follow me,” Noelle says as she walks past him and out into the hallway.
My bare feet feel like lead, but I force them to move. I don’t know what the rest of this house holds for me, but I do know that refusing to do what is demanded of me will only cause more pain.
We pass several closed doors before Noelle knocks on one.
“Enter,” I hear Kirrill call out before she opens the door and waits for me to step inside.
He sits behind a large oak desk. His office oozes masculinity, all wood and dark accents. Large shelves filled with books cover the wall behind him with dark, modern artwork adorning the walls. Three men are seated before him. All of their gazes snap toward me in an instant.
“Willow, my dear. So glad you could join us,” Kirrill says with a broad smile, speaking to me like we are long lost friends.
I glare at him. I want to spew profanities and tell him I’m not a guest at his goddamn tea party. I am able to hold myself back, though. Barely.
“So this is the infamous Willow Hernandez,” one of the men says with a heavy French accent. His eyes undress me as he speaks. “I hear you are a murderous little bitch.”
All the men chuckle at his stupid little joke.
“Give me a blade and I’ll show you,” I reply.
“The mouth on this one,” another man says lowly, his accent thick but I’m unable to place it.
I don’t pay him any attention. It’s the third man that interests me. He stares at my feet. Not at the short hem of the dress or the fact that my nipples are visible through the semi-sheer material. No, he stares at my feet as he grinds his teeth.
“Narcisco has already started retraining her. It seems Raphael Gallo let her run wild. But any of you would easily be able to tame her,” Kirrill says, his fingers steepled in front of him. “Breaking them is half the fun anyway.”
“What is the asking price?” the man who won’t look at me asks, turning his attention back to Kirrill. I have to strain to hear his words through his thick Russian accent.
“Twenty-five million.”
“That’s a lot of money,” the man with the French accent says. “And her husband will be looking for her.”
“ Da. He will,” the Russian man interjects.
“Leave her then,” Kirrill says with a wave of his hand. “I wanted to offer her to you before the auction tonight. You know how those events can be.” His voice trails off as fear skitters up my spine.
“I’ll take her,” the Russian says before putting his phone to his ear.
He speaks rapidly in Russian before ending the call. A moment later Kirrill’s device receives a notification before a brilliant smile spreads across his face.
“Will you be staying for the auction?” Kirrill asks the man who just bought me like I’m a fucking loaf of bread. “I have new stock and some of the items for bid are quite delicious. Even if I say so myself.”
“No.” His words are spoken with an air of finality. “I want her loaded into my vehicle. I want to get her back to Russia before her husband can even know she was here.”
The man is still speaking but I lose track of what he is saying. Darkness creeps into my vision as a cloth is pressed over my mouth before the abyss swallows me whole.