16. Jhene
SIXTEEN
Jhene
“Your little stray wandered too far from home tonight.”
A rare glimpse of amusement flickers across Rurik Raguzin’s chiseled face. He holds my gaze as he issues the taunt, his cell phone small in his huge hand. He’s placed it on speakerphone just so I can hear Killian’s furious roar on the other end.
“If you fucking touch her—”
“It is not our fault your stray wandered. You should keep better track of your pets, Rourke.”
I scream from behind the gag that’s been stuffed in my mouth. They’ve tied me to a meat hook. It hangs from the ceiling of what I’m pretty sure used to be meatpacking facility.
The way they’ve knotted the rope to the metal hook, my feet barely touch the ground. My body aches from how it’s been stretched, arms tethered above my head.
I went from watching a professional boxing match to being accosted in the women’s restroom and thrown in the back of a mystery van.
The worst part isn’t even the rope chaffing against my skin or the dirty gag that’s been jammed into my mouth.
…it’s the fact that I can hardly see anything. Not clearly anyway.
During the struggle at the Barclays Center, my glasses were knocked off my face. I heard a distinct crunch as Rurik’s men carried me off.
Now everything looks noticeably blurry as I’m held captive and Rurik taunts Killian.
“You’re a dead man,” Killian growls. “I won’t need a weapon to do it, Raguzin. I’ll be killing you with my bare hands.”
“Then come settle this now,” Rurik says. “You have been dropped the address. We will be waiting.”
He ends the call before Killian can bellow more threats at him. He slides the phone into the pocket of his suit blazer and starts toward me.
Rurik Raguzin is a huge man.
Which is saying a lot considering Killian’s no shrinking violet and neither are the Callahan brothers. But he’s well over six feet with a build that’s mountainous and jarring.
He stalks toward me, and it’s like old times again.
I’m back on Bratva turf, an object to be possessed. Just something to be consumed.
My insides twist tighter as I try to remember to breathe, but it becomes harder the closer he gets. Memories start to circle me in an attempt to drag me under.
“Everything is according to plan,” the Russian boss announces. “The Irish will be here soon.”
According to plan.
I’m nothing more than bait. A means for the Bratva to lure Killian and the others here. Another move in this war they’ve waged against each other, and I can’t do anything about it.
It makes me sick to my stomach knowing it’s my fault.
I scan the room to pick out the soldiers Rurik’s brought with him. Many of them blend together—brawny and hard-faced henchmen who are a dime a dozen—but two stick out among the others.
The first is the blond with ice-chip eyes and the dead twin brother. He and his brother have long been Rurik’s personal guard. From what I understand, his twin was killed months ago by Lochlan Callahan the same night I met Chantal.
…the same night I escaped the cages and the Bratva’s clutches.
He’s out for blood. He must want payback as badly as Rurik and Fedorov do for what was done to his brother.
Then there’s the man who gives me chills even at a glance. The man who’s almost as terrifying as Fedorov. He’s standing off to the side, dressed in black tactical gear, sheets of dark hair falling down to his shoulders. Most of his face is hidden behind a military grade half mask.
Only his brow and eyes are within view. Some of the deadest, emptiest eyes I’ve ever seen.
They call him Koschei—otherwise known as The Deathless—and he’s the most lethal assassin in the city. Maybe in the entire country.
If he’s here, someone’s about to die.
Rurik speaks to him in Russian. Way too fast for me to understand even a word of what he’s said, but it’s obviously an order of some sort.
Koschei nods and then steps back, disappearing into the shadows of the abandoned meatpacking building.
“Do not worry, Myshka,” Rurik says, turning back toward me. He’s spotted the concerned knit of my brows. “You will survive the night. The sovietnik wants his little mouse kept in one piece.”
He reaches out and strokes my cheek with the back of his long fingers.
I instinctively flinch away from his touch. The chain above me rattles.
I hate when men touch me. Most of all when Fedorov and his son do. The only time I’ve felt differently has been when Killian and I—
“He has missed you,” Rurik goes on, interrupting my thoughts. “We have all missed you, Myshka. The house isn’t the same without our little mouse.”
I turn my face away from him, but he grabs me by the chin and wrenches it back toward him. His grip is callous and forceful, a reminder how little of a choice I have in the grand scheme of things.
“He has been so patient with you,” he hisses in his thick, Russian baritone. “This is how you repay him? You choose to disobey?”
“Where is Eva?” I demand through the gag. The cloth muffles my words, though he understands.
Another rare glimpse of humor flashes across his face. “You can forget about seeing your sister, Myshka. You have been very bad. You will need to atone for what you have done.”
He releases me with a shove that sends me swinging on the hook. The chain clangs as it does. My shoulders ache to the point of discomfort.
I’ve done my damnedest fighting off the onslaught of emotion. I always do, walling myself off as best as I can so not to give them the satisfaction.
At the end of the day, I’m human. It breaks free anyway, a small hoarse cry slipping out.
I’ve squeezed shut my eyes as the past takes hold and transports me back.
The meatpacking facility fades and the past becomes the present. Eva’s sweet face materializes as she beams and then tosses her arms around me.
“Nene!” she cries out. “I’ve missed you so much.”
I wrap my arms around her too, hugging her tight and hoping this moment will last. If only this moment could be more than a rare reward from Fedorov.
As time’s gone on, we’ve seen each other less often. It’s become a fleeting opportunity to spend even a couple minutes together.
Eva’s not as frail as she was the last time I saw her. Which possibly means her condition isn’t as debilitating as it once was.
Fedorov swore he’s been taking care of her. Told me if I behave myself, she’ll get the medication and treatments she needed.
I’ve done everything he’s said. But so did Mom, and it didn’t turn out so well for her…
“Have you been eating?” I ask, pulling back slightly. “Have you been taking your meds?”
“Nene, I told you I would,” she says softly, the beginnings of a smile forming. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. I heard you got hurt. That Fedorov—”
“Shhh. What happens to me isn’t important.” I glance around out of paranoia, doublechecking we’re alone. “Focus on yourself, Evie. You need to stay in good health.”
The door pops open and the twins walk in. Two icy, identical blonds who instantly make my stomach drop.
I already know what’s about to happen.
“Time is up,” one says simply.
“We just got here,” I say in protest. “Can’t we have a few more minutes—NO!”
The blond on the left grabs Eva by the arm and yanks her away. I scream her name and move to stop him when the second one steps up and shoves me to the ground.
I land with a hard thump as Eva’s escorted off and disappears from view. The last time I’ll see her for much longer than I even realize…
“—Irish are here.”
The announcement pulls me back to the present.
One of Rurik’s henchmen has stepped forward to let him know. He gives a satisfied nod as I blink a few times and realize it was in my head.
I was thinking about the last time I saw Eva. So much time has passed, if not for those flashbacks, I’d almost forget what she looks like.
Gunfire erupts from outside the building.
Rurik’s men draw their weapons while the Bratva boss remains stoic and unfazed. He listens to the sounds of his men and the Irish go at it as if it’s mundane. He’s not threatened in the slightest.
As two of his soldiers break away to go defend them in the battle going on outside, Rurik holds up a hand.
“Not now,” he grunts. “Not yet. We will move forward as planned. Give them what they want.”
The soldiers bow their heads and instead move toward the back of the facility. Only the blond remains at Rurik’s side.
“And the girl?” he asks.
“She stays. We have already gotten what we needed. They will soon realize the same.”
I watch with a racing heartbeat as Rurik turns and strides off. He and the blond disappear through the rear emergency exit, and suddenly, I’m alone.
It’s just me and the rope tethering me to the metal hook. I don’t have a chance to consider how best to free myself.
Only a couple seconds pass before there’s a stampede of footsteps filling my ears. The main doors explode inward.
Killian appears amid a cloud of dust with his gun drawn and his face twisted in rage. He’s backed by at least ten other men from the clan, including Ronan and Sean.
They must’ve rushed from Barclays the moment they found out where I was.
“JHENE!” Killian barks. He crosses the dark, dusty space in a single long stride and draws a knife to slice through the rope binding me.
The gag is removed next. I drag a fresh breath into my lungs and work my jaw open and shut, grateful to no longer be chewing on the dirty fabric.
Killian engulfs me in his arms to stop me from stumbling.
It’s not just my mouth that’s sore but the rest of my body too. Even though I haven’t been tied up for long, it was long enough that my limbs ache and feel difficult to move.
“You came,” I croak hoarsely.
“It was never up for debate.”
I release a slow sigh. It’s out of complete and total relief. Enough to make me a little lightheaded.
But the guilt still lingers. It serves as a reminder that once again Killian and the rest of the Callahan clan have found themselves in a bind because of me.
That I’m the reason they’re so deep in this fight against the Bratva. The cost keeps getting higher and they keep paying it, whether they realize it or not.