Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gabbi
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was Victor watching me.
I didn’t move. Didn’t tense. Just kept my breathing slow, steady, controlled.
My head was still resting against the back of the worn-out couch, my body curled slightly, wrapped in the thin blanket one of his men had tossed at me last night.
I had barely slept. Not with the way Victor had kept his eyes on me, watching, waiting. Testing.
Now, as the morning light seeped through the cracks in the wooden walls, he was still sitting across from me, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"You sleep lightly," he mused, his voice slow, calculating.
I forced a sheepish smile, shifting slightly, rubbing my hands up and down my arms as if trying to chase away the cold. "Hard to sleep in a new place."
Victor tilted his head, his dark eyes studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out yet. "You’re nervous."
I let out a soft laugh, looking down. "Shouldn’t I be?"
A smirk tugged at his lips. "You should."
My stomach twisted, but I kept my expression open, my body language relaxed.
He was testing me again. Poking at the edges of my story, searching for a crack, a hesitation, anything that told him I didn’t belong here.
And he was smart. I knew he wasn’t convinced yet.
If I wanted to get out of this alive, if I wanted to get close enough to find out where they were keeping Liam, I had to escalate.
I had to make him believe I wanted to be here.
Victor leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "What do you want, Gabbi?"
I let the silence stretch between us, as if I was choosing my words carefully. Then, I met his gaze, letting my lips part slightly, letting him see something just vulnerable enough to be believable.
"I want to survive," I murmured.
He chuckled, low and deep. "Smart girl."
I let out a slow breath, shifting my weight, moving just enough for the blanket to slip off my shoulder. His gaze flicked down for a fraction of a second before coming back up, amusement flickering across his face.
"You really think I’m buying this?" he asked, voice smooth, unconvinced.
I smiled, tilting my head slightly. "I think you want to."
Something in his eyes darkened.
He pushed to his feet, moving toward me with slow, deliberate steps. I didn’t move, didn’t pull back, didn’t let a single trace of fear show as he stopped in front of me. Close. Too close. His fingers lifted, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch light, barely there. Testing me.
I forced myself to relax, tilting my head slightly into his touch like I was comfortable, like I wanted him there.
"You’re very good at pretending," he murmured.
I let my lips curve into a soft smile. "So are you."
His smirk deepened. "I like you."
I let my breath catch slightly, just enough for him to notice. "That’s good, isn’t it?"
His fingers traced the side of my neck, slow and deliberate. "That depends."
I felt it then—the shift in the air, the exact moment I needed to move.
I leaned in.
Just enough. Just slightly. Letting him think I wanted to. Letting him believe this was my choice.
His lips curved, pleased. And then, just as he started to close the last bit of distance, I did it.
I kissed him first.
Slow. Tempting. Just enough.
His lips were warm, firm, tasting of whiskey and power, of a man who had never been told no in his life. I let myself press into it just enough to make him believe it, just enough to make him think he had me.
He responded instantly, his hand sliding up, fingers curling into my hair, his grip tightening slightly as he deepened the kiss. I let him.
Because this was the game.
Because I had to win.
I ignored the nausea twisting in my gut, ignored the way my hands wanted to push him away. I needed him to trust me. I needed him to believe me.
I let it last just long enough, then pulled back slowly, deliberately. My lashes fluttered as I met his gaze, my breath just the slightest bit uneven, my lips parted like I was waiting for him to kiss me again.
Victor exhaled, pleased, his thumb brushing over my lower lip.
"Maybe," he murmured, "you are useful after all."
I forced myself to smile.
Even as my stomach twisted, even as I felt my skin crawl.
Even as I knew that somewhere out there, Bobby was watching.