Page 24 of Desperate Crimes
But it’s pointless. It’s too dark.
I might not know what the heck is happening. But it’s obvious I’ve been kidnapped.
And honestly? I don’t even care why—because right now, all I want is to go home.
“Look, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone,” I say, desperate to get out of here.
That’s a lie, though. I will tell someone. Everyone.
My father is Adrik Volkov.
My uncles are literal wolves in suits.
I even have honorary uncles who are Vipers.
My sister is married to Liam O’Doyle.
My cousins are married to scary fuckers, too.
My family doesn’t just have influence—we are the table everyone wants a seat at.
This? Kidnapping? It’s honestly kind of cliché.
I mean, yeah—it sucks.
And yeah—it’s humiliating.
It’s also not the first time someone’s tried to use me to get to my family. I know how this works.
My wrists tremble in my lap as I pull on the hem of my dress. It doesn’t help. Goosebumps break out across my skin. It feels clammy, my pulse is a staccato drum beneath my breastbone, and my mouth tastes like panic.
But the real reason I’m cold?
He’s watching me.
Somewhere in this cavernous space—this surreal den of velvet shadows and dark secrets—he’s lounging like a predator that already knows the outcome.
“You really want to leave already?” His voice slithers through the air like smoke, warm and sharp, curling around my spine. “We didn’t even get to the good part.”
I flinch.
What the hell does that mean?
“Are you kidding?” I snap, voice high and shaking. “You—you kidnapped me! Drugged me! I could press charges?—”
“You’re the one who’s kidding yourself, Princess.”
The endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret. Like a sin.
“Tell me. How many nights have you dreamed this? How many times have you wished some dark lover would slither inside your room from the shadows and steal you away?”
My breath catches—actually catches—like a damn heroine in one of the historical bodice-rippers I sneak-read under the covers.
“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But I do.
God help me, I do.
