Chapter 2
Cara
When we return to Las Vegas, we don’t go straight home.
We go to the antique shop.
I know what happens in the back room. And I know why we’re here.
“Take him to the back,” Dmitri tells Ivan and Isaak, who hold the tied up and blindfolded Italian between them as he shouts what I can only assume to be curse words in Italian. Familiar words, unfortunately, even if I don’t know what any of them mean.
With a nod, the men drag him into the antique shop, his angry voice eventually fading away.
I frown as I watch Dmitri turn to me. I know that he’s about to tell me to go home and rest, even after things went fine in New York City. Does he really see me as being so weak, so delicate? How will he treat me once he finds out I’m pregnant with his baby?
“I need your help.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
Dmitri breathes in through his nose, looking uncertain and torn as he pinches the bridge of it. “Luca talked to his cousin about the guard we captured. His name is Milo, and there’s a good chance he was one of the Italians at the farmhouse.”
My stomach drops. One of the men who tortured me may be inside the antique shop right now. “Oh.”
I can’t think of anything else to say. Honestly, I feel paralyzed on the spot.
“I know that I’m asking a lot, but I need you to listen to his voice, really listen, and see if you recognize it,” Dmitri tells me. He looks guilty from just asking this of me.
As much as I don’t want to be within a thousand miles of the men who tried to break me, I know that I’m the key to figuring out who they are so that they can be punished. I need to hear his voice.
“Okay,” I say with a nod.
“Are you sure?” Dmitri asks. “You can say no.”
“I told you I wanted to help,” I reply. “This is how I can do that.”
Dmitri nods before motioning for me to follow him inside. He takes me through the shop and down the hallway, his shoulders stiff. “Move.”
Ivan and Isaak step out of the way after making sure that Milo is properly tied down to a chair with the blindfold now stripped off.
Dmitri turns to me as I cautiously step into the room. “I’ll get him to talk.”
All I can do is nod as I stare at the man. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Neatly trimmed beard. Nothing familiar, but if they’re right about him, I’m finally staring at one of my torturers in the face for the first time.
Dmitri clamps his hand down on Milo’s shoulder, fisting his shirt in his hand. “Were you in Las Vegas a few weeks ago?”
Milo screws his face up at Dmitri and mutters something in Italian.
“English!” Dmitri barks out as he jerks Milo forward before slamming him back against the chair.
“No!” he shouts. His eyes dart to me before rushing away.
Why won’t he look at me for more than a second? Guilty conscience?
Dmitri holds his hand out, and Isaak slaps a blade into it. He presses the tip of the knife against Milo’s cheek, just like they did to me, making him grimace as blood bubbles up under the blade. “Did you flee like the others, like the fucking coward you are?”
“I’m not a coward!” Milo spits out.
I frown, still unsure if his voice sounds familiar or not.
“You’re already pissing me off,” Dmitri grits out as he leans closer to Milo.
Milo suddenly rears forward and slams his head against Dmitri’s, making Dmitri stumble back as blood bursts from his nose. Milo immediately starts laughing. “How’d that feel, pretty boy?”
That voice, slick, amused, cruel, slides under my skin like a blade.
It’s Creep.
“Son of a bitch!” Dmitri bites out as he presses his hand against his bleeding nose.
“I know him,” I say.
Dmitri whips around to face me, not even focused on the pain any longer. “You recognize his voice?”
I nod as my lungs fight to remember how to work.
Every inhale makes my chest ache as I stare at Milo, remembering all the sick things that he said to me.
“He was one of them. One of the worst.” My throat tightens.
“He threatened to… use me. He said he’d leave me on the side of the road when he was done. ”
Dmitri’s face turns a deep shade of red, his fist already shaking before he slams it against the side of Milo’s face. “You. Sick. Fucking. Bastard.”
He punches Milo with every single word, bloodying his face up so much that I can barely recognize it.
I don’t try to stop him. I just watch, feeling the weight on my soul lift just a little as Milo gasps and cries out in pain. Even with all of that, he hasn’t felt a shred of what I suffered at their hands for weeks.
Dmitri eventually stops before he breaks every finger in his hand, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept going despite that. He shakes his hand and turns away from Milo. “I’ll burn him alive. Cut him up slowly until he bleeds out. Whatever you want me to do.”
All of that sounds like things he would deserve, but I hold my hand out. “Can I have the knife?”
Dmitri doesn’t even look surprised. He places the weapon in my hand, blood dripping off his knuckles. “I do still need him to tell me something.”
“What’s that?” I ask him, feeling a surprising wave of calmness settle over me. It feels like there’s finally power in my hands.
“There’s a Ferro smuggling hub in the city,” Dmitri says. “I need the location. It’ll hurt a little when all their drugs go up in smoke like the casino they burned down.”
I nod to him before walking over to Milo, the air feeling hotter and heavier than usual. A sliver of me wants to be scared in his presence because that’s how I always felt, but I’m angry most of all right now.
Angry that he tortured me. Pissed that he endangered our unborn child. Furious that he just hurt the man I love. Livid that he’s still alive to breathe air and experience another day.
“Out of everyone who tortured me, you were one of the worst,” I tell Milo as I tighten my grip on the knife.
Milo smirks at me, obviously not scared by the sight of me with a knife in my hand. He’s only seen me at my weakest, frail from starvation, bruised and bloody from beatings. “Pretty bird got her wings back. This is how you want to spend your freedom?”
“This is exactly how I want to spend my freedom,” I reply before slicing downward, cutting him from his temple to the corner of his mouth. The feeling of blade slicing skin makes me tremble for a second.
It’s that easy. Like a hot knife through butter.
“Ah! You bitch!” Milo spits out at me.
“All the others complained constantly about having to keep an eye on me and question me. You complained the least,” I say, remembering all the conversations that I overheard. “You wanted to torment me. You wanted to break me.”
“And we did! You were nothing!” Milo grits out.
Rage boils in my blood as I glare at him. “I was still alive. That was something.”
Milo scoffs. “You cried for hours.”
“But I never begged for anything, did I?” I snap at him before cutting his other cheek just to bring him more pain. He deserves it. He deserves more pain than what I could ever inflict.
“I’ll kill you this time!” Milo shouts at me as blood rolls down his face and tumbles off his jaw.
“No, you won’t,” I tell him as I lower the blade, blood trickling off the tip and hitting the ground by my feet. “You’re going to sit there and tell me where the Ferro smuggling hub is in Vegas.”
Milo lets out a cold laugh. “You really think I would tell you that?”
“You will if you want to keep the thing most valuable to you,” I reply as I step closer to him.
Milo screws his face up at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I learned a lot about you when I was captive, even when you weren’t talking to me,” I tell him, my eyes not moving from his. “You place so much of your self-worth on your manhood.”
“Are you serious?” Milo scoffs at me.
“You constantly bragged about your conquests to the others. You had girls brought out to the farmhouse,” I say, adjusting my grip on the knife handle. “And you talked about forcing yourself on me every single time you came into the basement.”
Milo glares at me, the amusement draining from his face. “If I had gotten my way with you, there’d be nothing left.”
The corner of my mouth turns up. “When I get done with you, you’ll be nothing.”
Milo flinches hard when I point the knife between his legs. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Where is the smuggling hub?” I demand, moving the knife closer.
“Touch me and I’ll fucking ruin you!” Milo snaps.
“Talk!” I shout back, pressing the tip of the knife against the seam in his jeans.
“Fuck, okay!” Milo yells as he tries to pull back from me as much as he can. “It’s the warehouse on Cheyenne! Behind the custom print shop!”
“I know where that is,” Isaak says from the doorway.
“Get all the information you can about that building and the area around it. We’re going to hit it. Hard,” Dmitri tells Isaak before turning to me. He gives me a nod, a faint smile playing out on his lips. He looks…proud.
I take a deep breath as I face Milo again, trying to calm myself, but he looks too relieved. Like he just saved himself. Like he won’t ever get punished for what he did to me.
That’s unacceptable.
I drive the blade down.
His scream tears through the room but I don’t flinch.
I leave the knife and turn away from him, his cries ringing in my ears. It should disturb me, but he didn’t stop hurting when I cried. Why should I give him the mercy that he never gave me?
Ivan grimaces as he looks away from Milo, his hand moving to shield his groin like he’s afraid he’s next.
Dmitri isn’t fazed. He would’ve done worse. “Ivan, clean up this mess after he bleeds out.”
“Yes, sir,” Ivan mutters.
My hands are shaking when Dmitri takes one and leads me out of the room, not saying a word until he helps me into the backseat of the SUV. He then cups my face and presses his lips against mine. Soft but firm.
I lean into him, adrenaline still rushing through me. Months ago, I would’ve been shocked at my actions, but after what I went through, I’m not the same person anymore.
I can’t be. That woman is gone. That woman can’t survive in this new world that I intend to live in for as long as possible.
Dmitri’s teeth lightly graze my bottom lip, and I hear his breath hitch. He remains close like he wants to continue, but he draws back instead to meet my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I say. I’m not totally sure, though. I just stabbed one of my torturers in the dick without hesitation.
Because of me, he’s going to bleed out and die.
I don’t kill. I’ve always been against cold-blooded murder.
But part of me is starting to understand my father’s words. To survive in this world, sometimes it does come down to killing or being killed. I wanted to believe that I could avoid those rules.
That’s just not possible, especially if I want the ones I care about to survive too.
“I was going to call a meeting, but that can wait until later,” Dmitri replies as he motions for me to scoot over so that he can get into the SUV and shut the door behind him.
“You don’t have to stay if you’re just worried about me,” I tell him, not wanting to throw off his plans. I want him to go after the smuggling hub. I want Paolo to hurt.
Dmitri smiles, actually smiles, and shakes his head. “I don’t think that I need to be worried about you. What you just did…that was fucking incredible.”
Warmth spread through me as I smile and lean my head against his shoulder. I need to tell him about the pregnancy test, but this is one of the best moments that we’ve shared together since I was rescued. I don’t want to ruin it just yet.
I want to hold on tight and never let go.