Page 7 of Jewel of the Assassin
“That’s enough, Miss Volkov.”
I thrash, but it’s useless. He hauls me toward the house, my bare feet skimming the cold grass, my breath bursting. Damn. I should have known.
A minute later, the guard thrusts me into the entryway of our grand estate, and suddenly, I’m standing before my father—all decked out in his three-piece tailored suit, his chunky crest signet ring, Patek Philippe watch, and black fur-lined overcoat. I blow frustrated breath through my nose.
His face is a storm cloud, dark eyes flashing with fury. “We don’t have time for this. Soon enough, you won’t be my problem anymore.”
“At least I won’t have to see your face anymore. Silver lining, I guess.” No. More like a consolation prize.
His jaw tightens, but he grips my arm, his fingers bruising, and shoves me toward the limousine. I stumble but hold my head high, refusing to let him see me break. Our security guard passes him my discarded heels, which he promptly chucks at me.
Motion jolts me as I slip the heels back on and buckle my seat belt. The leather is cold against my back. My father settles across from me, his expression unreadable.
“You can’t fight this, Valentina. You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” he says, voice like iron. “The Makarova family won’t tolerate your defiance. Whatever you believe about Anton, he is not as passive as he seems. And if you make too much trouble, Nikolai will not be forgiving.”
I tilt my head, lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, good. Maybe they’ll actually torture me better than you.”
My father chuckles, low and cruel. “You think you’re clever. But Anton will put a child in your belly. That will be the greatest punishment for you.”
The words sink in like a cold blade. I grip my dress so tightly, my knuckles ache. Rage. Fear. Revulsion. They storm through me.
I force a smile. “You really think breeding me like a prize mare is going to break me? Please. I’ve survived worse—like being your daughter.”
Victor opens his mouth to retort.
Then, the world explodes.
The limo spins violently, and I scream from the tires screeching against the pavement as we swerve out of control. The driver shouts before the limo veers, slamming into the guardrail.
Time warps. Glass shatters. The world spins. My body is thrown sideways, then, sudden weightlessness. The sickening sensation of falling.
A crash that should have broken me. Except… it doesn’t.
Something inflates, cushioning the impact. But the force of the airbags still rattles my skull, snapping my head back against the seat.
A white-hot explosion of pain erupts behind my eyes.
For a moment, I can hear the wreckage—groaning metal, the distant blare of horns, my father’s muffled curses—but it all feels far away, as if I’m sinking underwater.
Then, warmth. Strong arms lift me, holding me like I weigh nothing.
My head lolls against something firm, a chest. No, a fortress of marble-like muscle. The scent of smoke, leather, and something darker fills my senses. My lashes flutter, vision swimming, trying to focus on the shape above me.
Too blurry. Just shadows, a golden glint. Like…a mask?
A voice? Maybe.
I can’t tell if it’s real or my mind unraveling.
My lips part, but no words come. The pain is swallowing me whole, dragging me into oblivion.
But before the darkness claims me, one last thought slithers through my mind.
It can’t be much worse than the fate I was heading toward.
Then…nothing.
4
