Page 103 of Captive Prize

“Other than you?” I snapped. “She put her father in one of the most brutal asylums in the world. How long do you think Egor stays there? She killed one of the most ruthless businessmen in Russia. She made enemies—and then aligned herself withLos Infideles. Mateo and the others may be dead, but they weren’t the last of that organization.”

It might not be true.

But I didn’t need truth. I needed to win.

“No,” Artem said. “She’s a threat. If she joins us willingly, fine. I’m sure the women will welcome her.”

“Maybe give Alina some time,” Pavel mumbled.

Artem glared and continued.

“But if she’s forced into this family, we’re inviting a viper into our home. I won’t have someone I can’t trust near our children.”

“He has a point,” Gregor said, still smug.

Fuck.

How was I going to convince her, after everything, to marry me?

“That, and I’ve been informed that it’s the twenty-first century. Dragging women to the altar is,” Artem lifted his fingers in air quotes, “no longer ‘okay.’ A little too caveman.”

“He has a point,” Mikhail added.

No one paid him much attention.

“That’s the deal, cousin,” Gregor said. Still grinning like he’d won.

“She says yes willingly—or she’s gone.”

CHAPTER 25

ZOYA

Iknew this moment would come eventually.

It honestly surprised me it took this long.

The first few days after being locked in this room, chained to this bed, I slept. Consciousness faded in and out. When I did sleep, it was deep, cold, and dreamless.

But when I was awake, all I could do was think about him.

Roman.

Where was he?

Why wasn’t he here?

The only people who came were the girls who helped me get cleaned up or brought food. The doctor stopped by every few hours in the beginning, but less and less after that.

As far as I could tell, I’d been in this room for a little over a week. No one answered my questions or said anything useful, anything that might give me a sense of how much time had passed or what Roman’s plans were.

No one except the man who stood at the edge of my bed and glared at me.

Gregor fucking Ivanov.

When heavy footsteps echoed down the hall—too loud to be a woman’s, too firm to be the doctor’s—I hoped it was Roman.

I had been waiting for him. Waiting to see what would happen. Waiting for an answer to why he saved me.

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