Page 157 of Fierce Pursuit

The interior of the cabin was dark and musty, smelling of mold and something else, something metallic and familiar. Blood. The realization came as Matvey flicked on a battery-powered lantern, illuminating the single room.

A mattress lay in one corner, stained with rust-colored patches I didn't want to identify. A wooden chair stood in the center, with rope coiled neatly beside it. A bucket in another corner. Nothing else except dust and cobwebs.

"Home sweet home," Matvey said, shoving me toward the chair. "At least until Ivanov decides what to do with you."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Why now?"

My father's face remained impassive. "We owe Solovyov. He's called in the debt. The Ivanovs are inturmoil. Their boss is weak and distracted. Now is our time to strike. And we're going to use Artem to do it."

"A debt you pay with your daughter," I said bitterly.

"Be grateful," Matvey interjected, leaning against the wall, watching me with those dead eyes. "He could have asked for much worse."

"What could be worse than selling your sister?"

He smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. "Use your imagination."

I shivered with revulsion. My father checked his watch again, his movements agitated as he cut the zip ties from my wrists with a pocketknife and thrust a water bottle between my hands.

"Hurry up," he snapped. "Use the water to clean your face."

"And if I refuse?" I asked, raising my chin defiantly.

"I think you know the answer to that," he said softly.

Rage and terror warred within me, but self-preservation won out. With shaking hands, I awkwardly dampened a corner of the blanket they'd used to kidnap me and wiped at my face, the fabric coming away streaked with blood and dirt.

"Good girl," my father said, the praise as revolting as it was unfamiliar.

Outside, the crunch of tires on gravel announced another vehicle approaching.

My father's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "He's early," he said, an edge of panic in his voice.

He turned to me, grabbing my shoulders. I stifled a scream of pain. My shoulder was definitely dislocated, but I'd be damned if I let them know. I knew from pastexperience, it would only lead them to exploit the injury to cause me even more pain.

"Listen to me. You will be respectful. You will be obedient. You will agree to whatever he proposes. Do you understand?"

I stared back at him, saying nothing, letting my hatred speak for me.

His hand twitched, clearly wanting to strike me again, but the sound of car doors slamming stopped him.

"Last chance, Viktoria," Matvey warned, crouching in front of me, snatching my wrists together as he tied rope around them. "Cooperate or find out exactly how expendable you really are."

Footsteps approached the cabin, heavy and deliberate.

My father straightened his jacket, smoothing back his hair. Matvey rose and crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance. Both of them stared at the door with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

And I realized, with a clarity that cut through my fear, that they wereafraid. These men who had terrorized me my entire life were afraid of whoever was about to walk through that door.

The footsteps stopped. A shadow fell across the threshold, massive and imposing, darkening everything in its path.

And for the first time since they'd dragged me from my dorm, I felt something other than fear. Something dangerous. I felt hope.

But hope in this world was a double-edged blade. This man who made my father and brother tremble could be my salvation...or my complete destruction.

One thing was certain, I was about to trade one devil for another, and there was no telling which one had the blacker soul.

Moonlight silhouetted him, a mountain of a man carved from darkness itself.

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