Page 69 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

I grit my teeth, biting back the urge to spit in his face.“I’m not the same woman I was when you first chained me, Igor.You broke me there, but I won’t back down here.”

He stops, tilting his head, amusement glinting in his cold eyes.“Is that so?Because from where I’m standing, you look just as useless as ever.”His gaze drops to the chains binding my wrists, a cruel smile tugging at his mouth.“And just as helpless.”

I inhale slowly, willing myself to remain calm.“You must be desperate if you had to resort to this,” I murmur, meeting his gaze with steel in my own.“Kidnapping me, threatening a child.Are you that threatened by Dave?After all, he’s a better man than you in so many ways.”

The strike of the back of his hand comes as no surprise.In fact, I welcome the sting of the blow.It means I’ve struck a nerve, and the knowledge gives me a surge of satisfaction.Igor hates to be seen as weak, hates any implication that his power might be slipping.But I know better now.I’ve seen his cracks, his flaws, the depths of his depravity.

“You’ll learn to respect me, you slut,” he says, his voice a low growl as he leans closer, so close that I can smell the faint whiff of cologne and something darker, more sinister.“If it’s the last thing you do.”

I raise my chin defiantly.“Respect is earned, not taken by force.”

The second slap comes fast, a brutal crack across my other cheek that leaves my skin burning, my vision swimming.Pain flares, white-hot and blinding, but I grit my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s hurt me.

He brings his face to inches of mine, and I can see every detail—the scar bisecting his cheek, the crow’s feet around his eyes, and the hardness in his gaze that hints at years of cruelty.“I’ll break you,” he whispers, his voice dripping with malice.“Just like I did before.”

I smirk, despite the pain throbbing in my cheek.“You’re right, I did break before.But now, I’m sharper.Stronger.”I lean forward, letting my voice drop to a low hiss.“You’re the one who should be afraid.”

For a heartbeat, his eyes flicker with something—maybe a hint of uncertainty or a flash of anger.Then it’s gone, replaced by his usual mask of cold detachment.He straightens, smoothing his pristine charcoal jacket, and steps back, his expression harder than stone.

“We’ll see about that,” he states in an icy tone.He turns on his heel, striding toward the door with an air of command that sharpens his every step.“Enjoy your solitude.It won’t last long.”

As the door slams shut, locking me in darkness once more, I let out a slow, shuddering breath.My cheeks burn, but it’s nothing compared to the fire igniting inside me.I’ve been broken before.I’ve been a prisoner, a pawn in his sick game.But not anymore.Now, I’m playing for something bigger—something worth every ounce of strength I have left.

I close my eyes, picturing Rose’s face, her bright green eyes so much like Dave’s, her innocent smile, her laughter.She’s waiting for me.And I’ll be damned if I let this monster take anything more from us.

I press my back against the concrete column, feeling the cold bite into my skin, grounding me.This isn’t over.Not by a long shot.Igor may think he has the upper hand, but he’s forgotten one thing.

I know his weaknesses.And I’m done being afraid.

Ilie on the thin, scratchy blanket, my cheek pressed against the cold fabric, barely daring to breathe.Every inch of my body is tense, alert, straining to catch every whisper from the men huddled by the far wall.I pretend to be asleep, my eyes half-shut beneath lowered lashes, keeping my breathing slow and steady.The chains clink softly with my every inhale, a grim reminder of my situation—of the helplessness they think I’m wallowing in.

Igor’s men stand just a few feet away, their low voices carrying over the silence of the room.They don’t even glance my way, assuming I’m exhausted, too broken to be a threat.The arrogance—the absolute stupidity—of these men is almost laughable.They have no idea that every word they speak is fuel to my growing fire.I shift slightly, turning my head to the side to catch their voices better without making it obvious that I’m listening.

One of the men, a bulky brute with a scar bisecting his eyebrow, mutters something about “the big event.”His voice is a grating rasp, a sound I recognize—Boris, one of Igor’s favorite enforcers.I file that away, imprinting his voice and words in my mind, like marking a map.Every detail counts.Every word they spill is a breadcrumb leading me closer to understanding just how deep this horror goes.

“Dracul wants everything ready by tomorrow,” Boris says, his voice low but urgent.“Igor’s not happy with the security setup, says we need more men at the dock.”

Dracul.The name sounds foreign yet somehow chilling, almost as if it carries a shadow all its own.I keep my breathing steady, focusing on the sound of their voices, willing my heartbeat to slow.Whoever this Dracul character is, he’s not a mere criminal.There’s almost a mix of reverence and caution in the tone these enforcers use to talk about him.He’s definitely darker, someone who operates in the shadows even Igor’s twisted reach doesn’t fully grasp.

Another man, smaller, wiry with a rat-like twitchiness, laughs under his breath, a harsh sound that pricks my ears.“Igor’s always whining about security.Man’s paranoid.”

“Wouldn’t you be, Petrov?”Boris snaps back, sounding irritated.“If we get caught, this whole operation goes to hell.Dracul’s invested in this… personally.And you don’t cross a man like Dracul without deadly consequences.”

The words drop like boulders in my mind, each one causing a ripple of realization.This isn’t just about me or Rose.I’m ensnared in something far larger, a web stretching beyond Igor’s insatiable thirst for power.A network of men who consider people a commodity to be bought and sold.They think a life has value only if it gives them something in return.Igor isn’t just selling my daughter—he’s aligned himself with something far more sinister, a machine fueled by power, greed, and the suffering of countless innocents.

Boris lowers his voice, as if afraid the walls are listening in.“Dracul’s not just funding Igor.He’s supplying him with… new assets.Rumors are they share the same kind of preferences.And that their new sex toys, so to speak, are all part of the auction.”

Petrov whistles softly, definitely impressed by the news.“That kind of backing?No wonder Igor’s become so cocky—worse than ever.He thinks he’s untouchable with Dracul in his corner.”

They laugh, a smug and obnoxious sound that makes me fight a wave of nausea.Their amusement at this sick ring of depravity that they serve makes my skin crawl.I force my jaw to unclench, reminding myself that anger won’t help me now.Information is my weapon.Every word they’re spilling is ammunition, and I’m collecting it all, cataloging it in my mind to use it when I need it.

“Anyway,” Petrov sneers, full of mockery, “the dock’s gonna be swarming with big names.Not just the local players.Dracul’s bringing in some of his… associates.People with enough influence to make us all very, very rich.”

Boris grunts in agreement.“Just don’t get on his bad side.I heard what he did to the last guy who… tested the merchandise before Dracul got it.”

Petrov chuckles.“Oh, I heard.Took the man’s eyes out, first.Said they had seen what belonged to Dracul without permission.Then, he cut off the motherfucker’s dick, saying he had fucked Dracul’s possession.”

The men laugh again, and I feel bile rise in my throat.If Dracul is as twisted as Igor, if not worse, I know exactly the type of “possession” these two are discussing.Their next words make me doubt if they know, though.

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