Page 152 of Konstantin
I reach for it, biting my lip as I position it just right and press it into my ankle. I don’t want to hurt myself, not after everything, but this is different. I have no choice.
With a wince, I draw enough blood before I toss the shard to the far side of the room and let out a sharp cry.
The door creaks, and heavy footfalls shuffle closer. Here they come, just as expected.
Two of Konstantin’s men appear, and when they see me in my state of undress, they quickly avert their eyes.
How cute. Criminals with a sense of honor.
“What happened?” one asks.
“Ow! This is cutting into me. I’m bleeding!” I force my voice to crack, sounding panicked. “Oh my God, it hurts so bad!”
They stop, eyes widening as they take in the blood.
“Please, just get something to wrap this with,” I beg, my voice trembling with the pain I’m faking. “Just bandage it up, then chain me back. Konstantin wouldn’t want me bleeding out on your watch. I’m still his wife!”
One of them hesitates before stepping forward. “Okay, we help.”
My breath hitches. Now’s my chance.
The second man mutters something in Russian to the first, too fast for me to catch, but I feel the tension radiating from him. The one who agreed to help steps forward, while the other disappears to grab supplies.
The guard kneels to unlock my ankle, and I hold my breath, every muscle wrung tight. He pulls out a set of keys, selects one, and releases the cuff around my ankle. I wince, pretending the pain isunbearable, but my focus is on the gun in his holster.
This is it. It’s now or never.
In a split second, I snatch the weapon from him before he can react, aiming it directly at his face. His eyes pop, his arms shooting up in surrender as I jump to my feet.
“Your car keys. Now!”
Slowly, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the keys and tossing them to the floor with a resigned sigh.
“Relax. I not hurt you,” he says, his eyes crinkling into a small grin. “Boss kill me if I do.”
“Great. So you’ll let me go without being a problem. What a good boy.”
He chuckles dryly, hands still raised. I start moving toward the exit, but then a door opens and my pulse gives a little kick.
The second man returns with the bandages, and when he sees the scene, he mutters something else in Russian. Probably something like,I told you so, you idiot.
His attention bounces between me and the guy with his hands up, the tension in the air suffocating.
The first one shakes his head at the second. “Otpusti yeyo. Boss skazal ne trogat yeyo, yesli ona popitaetsya sbezhat.”
I catch a few words—something about letting me go, the boss having told them to maybe? My understanding isn’t great, but when the second man raises his hands and begins backing away slowly, I know I got it right.
I glance between them with a cold edge. “Now, one of you give me your shirt.”
They peer over at each other, but I don’t have time for this nonsense. Konstantin could be back at any minute.
I raise the gun a fraction higher, the threat hanging in the air. “Your damn shirt. Now.”
The first guy immediately pulls off his black T-shirt, handing it tome.
Taking the bandages from the other man, I say, “I need one more thing.”
“Oy boji moy. What now?” the second man asks. “You need my pants too?”
