Page 51 of Marked By His Touch

He leans closer, his gaze intent. "A passion that—intoxicating. I want you to feel it, too. I want you to want me. To fuck me."

"Don't be so hasty," I say. "Let me get comfortable first."

He smiles, his eyes gleaming. He moves away, leaving me momentarily free, his gaze never leaving my face. He's letting his guard down. Now's my chance.

"Make yourself at home," he growls.

My eyes dart towards the door. If I can just get close enough—

I focus all my energy on loosening the ropes, my fingers working feverishly against the rough fabric. The burning pain in my wrists is excruciating. With a surge of energy, I manage to slip one hand free, the rope falling away with a satisfying snap. I'm free. I'm going to make this count—for me andfor the women.

I take a deep breath, my body trembling. My hand shoots out, a swift, powerful movement aimed at his groin. My bloodied hand connects a precise strike that sends him reeling back.

He stumbles, a strangled gasp escaping his lips. His face contorts in pain. It's my chance. I know his weak spot.I won't let Zara’s betrayal be in vain. I'll use everything she taught me to survive.

I aim another punch, another precise strike to the side of his neck, where his carotid artery runs close to the surface. He crashes to the floor, his eyes wide with shock, and then he is out. He doesn’t move. Ican’t believe it.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed, my body moving with a newfound strength.I'm free.

My heart pounds as I race towards the door. What about the men outside? I didn't hear a lock click when they left, meaning they hadn't bothered securing me.They probably underestimated me.

They thought I wouldn't dare try. With a slow, deliberate push, I ease the handle down. The door clicks open.Yes.The two men outside, eyes glazed with boredom, haven't even registered my escape. One stares down the hall, and the other finally glances my way, but the connection doesn't register—that I'm alone, that I'm making a break.

I kick the first man hard in the groin, a precise move that sends him crashing to the floor, his hand flying to his privates, a cry escaping his lips. I'm getting better at aiming!Maybe Zara taught me a little too well...

I turn to the second man, who's just starting to react, his eyes widening in shock. I use Zara's fighting technique, a swift, sharp strike to his pressure point, the solar plexus for pain, and then to the carotid artery with my other hand. He collapses, unconscious, before he can even raise his weapon.

I push open the door and sprint down the hallway. My lungs are burning, and my legs are aching. I hear the sounds of commotion behind me, but I don’t dare look back.I have to get out.

I can see a glimmer of hope at the end of the hallway, a door. I don’t know this part of the club, and it feels—secluded. Cut off from the rest of the place.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, a tidal wave pushing me forward. I burst through the door, and another hallway stretches before me like a dark tunnel. Behind me, I hear the shouts and the pounding footsteps of at least one of the bodyguards. I can't stop. I can't look back.I'm not going to let him catch me. Not this time.

I run, my legs screaming. I don't know where I'm going, but I know I must get away. Door after door, I fling them open, each one a desperate gamble. I have to find a way out. I have to get to Katerina and Alexander.

I hear their footsteps getting closer, the thudding rhythm of boots a terrifying soundtrack to my flight.They're gaining on me.

The hallway seems to stretch on forever. I push open a door, the scent of grease and cooking spices hitting me like a punch to the gut. I'm in a kitchen, a chaotic, cluttered space.I need to hide. I need to think.

I spot a small closet in the back, a narrow space crammed with cleaning supplies and old containers. I dive into it, my body slamming against the cold metal shelves, my pulse throbbing in my temples. It's only a sliver of a refuge, but it's enough for now. My breaths come in ragged gasps, and each inhale is a desperate attempt to replenish the oxygen my lungs crave.

Where are the girls? Lena? Tatiana?

I reach for my pocket, my hand instinctively searching for the phone, for the lifeline to Katerina, to Alexander. But it's gone. Where the hell is it?Ah, I changed clothes when I was with Nikolai. Of course, the phone is there. Shit!

The world seems to close in on me. I try to swallow, but my throat feels dry, my mouth a cottony desert.I can't move. I can't think.

Tears well up on my eyelids, hot and stinging.

Where do I go? Which direction? Should I stay put? My mind is a swirling vortex. I can smell the spices and cleaning solutions, a strange mix of aromas.

I hold my breath. I'm okay—they're not coming in.

Calm down, Ava. Stay calm.

But then I hear it. A muffled sound, a whisper, carried on the air.Voices.They're coming closer.

I can't stay here. I have to move. I leave the closet, and I reach for the shelf, my hand instinctively grabbing a long, sharp knife. It's cold and smooth beneath my fingers.

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