Page 48 of Captive Prize

Even I knew about the Ivanov devil.

The fact that I was still alive was a miracle.

There had to be a reason for that. But I had no interest in sticking around to find out what it was.

Roman’s men were better trained than mine. They were disciplined and actually followed orders.

It didn’t matter how much I screamed, swore, or begged now—no one was responding again or coming through that door.

I was going to have to get more creative.

The chains were solid.

But the chair? It creaked when I moved. It was old. Wooden.

Wood broke.

I threw my body against the armrests, restraints twisting violently, digging into my skin.

Thankfully, not hard enough to break it.

Bleeding was a complication I didn’t need.

A dangerous one.

A weakness Roman, the Ivanov devil, could exploit the second he discovered it.

My breath came in ragged bursts, my throat aching. I shoved the pain down.

I was used to pain.

And I’d be in a lot more of it if I let this man keep me here.

It was only a matter of time before his restraint snapped—and when it did, he’d do a lot more than just spank me.

The chair arms wiggled a little when I pressed against them. Not enough. I just needed the wood to crack. Or one of the posts to loosen.

I let out another scream, my heart pounding, sweat dripping down my spine, soaking my shirt.

“Motherfucker!” I shouted. I swore someone laughed.

I was going to kill that guard before I left.

I just needed to get free.

The arms of the chair weren’t giving.

But the chair itself wasn’t bolted down.

I inched it toward the desk—one awkward thrust at a time. No more than an inch with each hop.

There had to be something, anything I could use to break the chains or pick the locks.

Not that I had much leeway for my fingers to be of much use. I couldn’t even bend far enough to use my mouth.

This wasn’t going to be solved with clever little tricks.

I needed brute strength.

---