Page 9 of Vendetta Crown

Aurora will fight. She will survive. Just as she did before.

My Aurora isn't just some damsel waiting for rescue. She'll find her way, or make one.

As consciousness slips completely from my grasp, I cling to this image of her. Not broken. Not defeated.

A fighter.

My fighter.

3

AURORA

I can feelKristofer's hand burning against my lower back as we approach the concierge desk. My heart hammers so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it echoing through the ornate lobby. The Hermitage is even more impressive than the photos online. All gilt edges and crystal chandeliers. The kind of place I'd normally stop to admire.

Not today.

Today, it is either going to be my prison or my salvation.

"Checking in," Kristofer announces, his voice dripping with false charm. "Christensen."

I dart my eyes around the lobby, searching for any sign of security or someone who might be connected to Potyomkin. Did my message even reach him? Does he care? The uncertainty makes my stomach twist.

"Of course, Mr. Christensen." The concierge taps at her keyboard, her perfectly manicured nails clicking against the keys. When she glances up, her gaze catches on the bruise across my cheek.

She freezes for a millisecond, just long enough for me to see recognition in her eyes.

She sees it. She knows.

Kristofer squeezes my waist painfully, leaning close to my ear.

"You better not have tried anything stupid, Jamie." His breath is hot and rancid against my skin. "Remember what happens when you make me angry."

"I didn't." I swallow hard, keeping my eyes down.

The concierge's eyes flick between us, then settle back on her screen. The moment stretches like taffy, each second an eternity as I wait for... something. Anything. A security team. A phone call. Any sign that my desperate message was received.

"Your reservation looks in order." She reaches beneath the counter and produces two keycards in a small paper folder. "You'll be in suite 1424, west tower. The view of the Strip is unrivaled. The finest in all of Vegas, in fact."

My heart plummets to the marble floor beneath my feet.

"Welcome to the Hermitage, Mr. Christensen." She slides the keycards across the polished countertop. Her eyes meet mine for just a moment, completely professional, betraying nothing. "Enjoy your stay."

Kristofer's fingers dig deeper into my side as he snatches the keycards with his free hand. "We will. Thank you."

I'm trapped.

Kristofer's hand slides down my back as we walk away from the concierge desk. My legs feel like they're moving through mud, each step taking me closer to a nightmare I've spent seven years running from.

His fingers creep lower with each step, until they're resting firmly on my ass. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, trying not to flinch away.

"You know, Jamie," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear, "I really thought you were going to do something stupid and desperate. But it seems like you're my good girl after all."

My stomach churns at the phrase "good girl." It sounds nothing like when Ruslan said it. From Kristofer's mouth, it sounds tainted and poisonous.

"And as a token of my gratitude, I'm going to let my good girl feel good before the wedding." He squeezes my ass hard enough to bruise.

Panic seizes my throat, choking me. I know exactly what he means. The same thing he meant in the back of that police cruiser seven years ago. The memory threatens to pull me under, but I force it away.

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