31. Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
EMMA EASTON
Consciousness comes back to me in pieces. I feel…cold, first. And pain. Then the sharp, awful taste of blood in the back of my throat.
I inhale too fast and immediately regret it as dizziness crashes through my head. The floor beneath me is concrete, freezing against my palms where I’m braced awkwardly on one side. My vision swims for a second before slowly pulling into focus.
Dim, fluorescent lighting, no windows. I blink, realizing with absolute horror that I’m in a basement.
No.
No, no, no—
I force myself upright quickly, tilting hard enough that I have to catch myself against the wall beside me. I jolt at the sudden sound of chains when I move. Panic immediately claws up my spine as memory comes back. Gunfire, running, and Jude shouting my name somewhere behind me….
Hands grabbing me. And then nothing.
A sharp breath leaves me as I finally look around.
Heather is sitting a few feet away, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, her mascara streaked beneath her terrified eyes. The moment she notices I’m awake, relief floods across her face. “Emma,” she whispers.
Adela sits beside her, dark hair disheveled and expression filled with rage. Even sitting captive on a concrete floor, she somehow still looks like she’s seconds away from killing someone.
“Well,” she mutters dryly, “this is deeply fucking irritating.”
Heather lets out a shaky breath.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay calm as I look around the room again. There’s a heavy steel door across from us. No windows. No obvious exits.
My pulse spikes.
“Are you okay?” Heather asks quickly, her voice trembling. “You hit your head when they brought you in.”
“I’m okay,” I say automatically, even though I absolutely am not. My hand rises instinctively to the side of my head anyway, fingers brushing tenderness near my temple.
Adela exhales sharply through her nose. “I really didn’t think I’d end up held captive in Russia again,” she says. “Honestly feels repetitive at this point.”
Despite everything, a strained sound almost escapes me. That’s Adela. Still somehow sarcastic in the face of death.
Then realization slams into me, and I look around again. My chest tightens instantly. “Where’s Adriana?”
The room goes quiet.
Heather’s expression crumples while Adela’s jaw hardens.
“She isn’t here,” Adela says flatly.
Ice slides down my spine. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”
Adela glances toward the door before looking back at me. “The blonde one took her.”
Blonde.
My stomach sinks. The man from the event, who shot her before.
I close my eyes briefly as dread crashes through me in waves.
Adriana had barely survived Nolan. Barely survived Alexei.
And now she’s alone somewhere in this place with one of his men.
I hate that I give a shit about her. But when it comes to the clutches of brutal men, I’d still protect any woman.
Fuck.
“They shot Micah,” Heather sobs suddenly, rubbing her already red eyes. “I don’t know if he’s alive, Emma.”
I swallow the bile that just rose to my fucking throat. “Wh—what? No.”
“What if he’s dead?” she cries, shaking her head. “I’m so fucking scared.”
“Please focus,” Adela murmurs. “You can be scared for him. But we need to figure out how to get the fuck out of here.”
Heather wipes at her eyes again. “Do you think…do you think they’re okay?”
I open my mouth, but no answer comes. Because I don’t know. I don’t know if Micah is alive. I don’t know if Jude made it out. I don’t know if any of them are still fucking breathing. And if they are still alive, then Alexei has the ultimate leverage.
The steel door suddenly unlocks with a loud mechanical clank, making Heather jump. Every muscle in my body tightens as I prepare to see the face of the bastard who tortured the man I love for months.
The door swings open, and Alexei walks in. His dark coat is lightly dusted with melting snow, and his black gloves still cover his hands as his steely gray gaze drifts lazily across the room, then settles on me.
That smile appears. “There she is,” he murmurs softly. “His biggest weakness.” The smile on his face never fully reaches his eyes. And that’s probably the scariest thing about him. How calm he stays while doing monstrous things. While being a monster.
Heather instinctively shifts closer to me as he steps farther into the room, the heavy door closing behind him. Adela doesn’t move at all, though hatred sharpens visibly across her face.
Alexei notices it. “I’m relieved to see none of you were seriously harmed,” he says smoothly, removing one black glove finger by finger. “Contrary to popular belief, I do dislike unnecessary damage.”
Adela lets out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s genuinely insane coming from you.”
His gaze flicks toward her briefly, amused more than offended. “Still unpleasant. Good. I was concerned captivity might soften you.”
“It never did before, motherfucker,” she spits. “And if you remember, I’ve killed more people than your pathetic men have combined. And we’ll kill you, too.”
He scoffs.
My pulse pounds hard as I force myself to stay steady. “Where’s Adriana?”
Amusement flashes in his cruel eyes. “She’s being returned now,” he says simply.
Returned.
The word makes nausea crawl up my throat.
The heavy lock on the door clicks again before I can respond, swinging inward a second time.
The blonde man struts in, with Adriana stumbling behind him in chains.
Her wrists are restrained in front of her, metal rattling softly with every weak step she takes.
Auburn hair hangs disheveled around her face, partially hiding a split lip stained with dried blood.
One side of her neck is bruising already, fingerprints beginning to bloom on pale skin.
But it’s her eyes that make me sick. They’re empty. Gone…somewhere else entirely.
Heather gasps quietly beside me.
Adela goes completely rigid.
The man shoves Adriana forward carelessly enough that she almost falls to her knees before catching herself against the wall.
The chains clink sharply in the silence.
And immediately, professionally, horribly, my brain starts identifying the signs before I even want it to.
Dissociation, acute shock, compliance response, fear conditioning…
I’m going to throw up.
Adriana doesn’t look at any of us as the man secures the chain to a metal ring bolted into the wall. She just sits there afterward, shoulders trembling faintly while her gaze fixes somewhere on the concrete floor. Like she left her body hours ago and hasn’t come back yet.
I hate him.
I hate all of them so much that it hurts.
Heather’s voice shakes. “Adri…”
No response.
Alexei watches as we all absorb the scene. Then he sighs softly. “Unfortunately,” he says, “Erik here became impatient.” He pats the blonde man on the shoulder. “Told him it was okay to test her before selling to Vlad.”
The man, or Erik, smirks.
“Do you approve?” Alexei turns to his man with an insufferable casualness.
Erik bites his lip. “So much so, that I’m going to keep her, if that’s alright.”
Alexei smirks.
Adriana finally looks up, her green gaze meeting Erik’s. But her expression says that she’d rather die.
I want to kill them.
Adela’s expression turns murderous. “You fucking psychos. You wouldn’t like it if I shoved a fucking broomstick up your ass, would you?” She scoffs. “Need more abuse of men in this fucking industry if you ask me. You all think you’re really something with that tiny little sword between your legs.”
Alexei ignores her completely.
“Vlad will be joining us shortly,” he continues, eyes drifting lazily between us. “He was very interested in seeing all of you up close before arrangements are finalized.”
My blood runs cold, and Heather pales beside me. Adela looks like she might actually launch herself at him despite the obvious impossibility of escape. The reality dawns upon me that these men may very well sell us. We’ll be trafficked and abused, and our parents will never hear from us again…
Alexei studies me carefully as recognition crosses my face, and satisfaction flickers briefly in his expression.
“There you go,” he murmurs. “You understand now. Without your boy to protect you, I’ll make you disappear.
Definitely want to see what’s so great about you first.” The way he says it has me clenching my jaw.
“You’re insane,” I whisper.
Alexei suddenly reaches forward to yank my head back, his fingers digging painfully into my scalp. “Jude’s mind is fucked. He’s weak. Strung out on drugs,” he sneers, his grip tightening in my hair. “Little rockstar can’t save you.”
And then he lets me go and takes a step back.
“Fuck you.”
He just smiles.
I can’t stop staring at Adriana. At the bruises and the blood, and the horrifying silence. I already know what Erik did to her. The thought makes me so angry.
Alexei slips his gloves back on slowly, gaze drifting toward the ceiling above us. “Jude almost escaped me tonight,” he says conversationally. “Almost.”
My chest tightens painfully at the sound of his name.
A faint smile touches Alexei’s mouth. “But men like Jude always forget something very important when they try to become heroes.” His eyes lower back to me. “Sometimes, heroes die.”