Page 78 of Captive Prize

He placed his other hand on my good shoulder. “You’ve done enough. Let us take it from here. It’s going to be a snap. You already did all the hard work. I doubt any of our men will get more than a paper cut.”

I gritted my teeth but said nothing.

“I mean, how many men could they have left here?” Damien asked.

“Twenty, tops. But most of them aren’t very well trained. It’s going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. They were distracted by the girl, but it wouldn’t matter.”

“I don’t know, seems a little mean,” Kostya added. “Should we give them a fighting chance? Like maybe only send in five men or give them a heads-up?”

“Nah, but we will give them a few hours alone with the bitch first, I think that will—” Gregor’s words were cut off as my one good hand shot up and grabbed him by the throat.

I didn’t remember standing. One heartbeat I was clenching my fists, the next I was on my feet, body screaming, blood soaking through the bandages.

My hand clamped around Gregor’s throat, I slammed him into the wall so hard a picture frame crashed to the floor.

His eyes widened, but not with fear—with surprise. As if he forgot what I was. Who I was.

“What the fuck?” Mikhail yelled. The needle was ripped from his hand, hanging from the thread dangling from my shoulder.

“Get off,” Gregor said in a low, threatening tone.

I didn’t back down.

“She is mine. Not yours to play with or allow others to harm.” I spoke through my teeth.

“Last warning,” Gregor said.

“If you kill her, I swear I’ll make you regret it. If she is harmed in any way, you will pay. I will hold you personally fucking responsible.”

Silence dropped in the room like a guillotine.

Gregor’s face hardened, confusion flickering into something darker. “You’ve lost your damn mind, Roman. Are you choosing her over your family?”

Arms wrapped around my torso and biceps, pulling me off of Gregor.

But only because I let them.

“Nah, brother,” Damien said. “He means he wants to take her out. You know how the Ivanov devil is. Letting one live is going to fuck with his stats.”

Damien shoved me back onto the table, his forearm heavy across my neck. His hand pinned my good shoulder with more force than necessary. His eyes met mine—tight with suspicion. He didn’t trust my act. Not fully. He was buying me time, not offering belief.

Mikhail cursed as he sat back down and started restitching the few stitches I had ripped.

Gregor said nothing for a moment.

The entire room was dead silent, waiting for his reaction.

He and Artem may have been in the middle of a cold war, but my attack had been against Gregor, and it was up to him to respond.

He pulled out a wooden chair from the table and sat right behind my head. I was forced to look up to face him.

“Why? What is it about this girl that has you all worked up?”

I said nothing.

“Are you choosing her over your family?” he asked again.

Was I?

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