Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Asshole.
My mouth feels as dry as a desert. I have to pee. He left me throbbing for release and nearly begging. I’m cold, my ass is killing me, and I’m so hungry, I’d eat damn near anything he’d give me, even those gross kholodets they like to eat, some jelly-like, gelatinous delicacy served in Russia.
Okay, maybe I wouldn’t eat that, but I’d stoop damn low right about now.
Ha, who am I kidding? I’ve already stooped lower than I ever thought possible. Chained up in the basement of my enemy, fighting against the man who holds my fate in his hands.
Even if he were to be smacked by some fairy godmother’s stick and he decided to grant me freedom… what he doesn’t know is they wouldn’t take me back. I’m damaged goods now, and my brother’s probably already dancing with glee at his good fortune. Imagine his luck, no need to split our inheritance.
I cannot allow the Romanovs to think they’ve bested me.
This must be on my terms.
I draw in a deep, calming breath. Blink.
Focus.
Hell, I’ve been in worse situations than this. My late father once tried to marry me to a Colombian crime lord. I was fifteen years old, planning my quinceañera, one of the most pivotal events in a young girl’s life as it marks the transition from childhood to adulthood.
Apparently, my father thought that meant it was time to sell and breed me. He and my mother fought. She threw the vase her mother had given her across the room. It shattered into pieces. In response, my father shattered her.
After she was discharged from the hospital, she left. I don’t know how she managed it. I don’t blame her for leaving, not really. I blame her for leaving me behind.
I blink my eyes and focus again. It isn’t going to help me to think about that now. I’ve risen above that. I’m better than the past I left behind. I will leave a legacy behind me, and it won’t be a woman who ever cowed to a man.
I take a deep breath and come up with a plan. So, I’m chained. He’ll be back eventually, either to torture me again or let me go and try something else. It was kind of cute how he called me a little liar. Of course I’m lying. I could tell him so much information it would fill reams of notebooks and systematically decimate everything my brother has built and hopes to build yet.
I can’t do that, though, and it has nothing to do with any half-assed loyalty to my family. I’m the one who will take over that cartel after I do away with my brother. I won’t give away the keys of the kingdom for all the money in the world, much less a threat of pain.
Ha. It amuses me he even entertained the thought of intimidating me into giving up anything. I live for pain. It turns me on.
I calm myself and focus on my breathing. Of course, I know exactly how I’m going to get out of here, but he might have a camera on me, so I must play it safe.
I look around the room, searching for a source of video feed. It takes me a minute. It’s hard to focus when I’m so starving. My vision keeps blurring in front of me. And the thirst. My God, I can hardly swallow.
Lev Romanov underestimated me. He thought he could chain me up and leave me here, and I don’t see any evidence of recording going on. I suppose he was pretty confident in these chains he has.
But he has no fucking idea who he’s dealing with. They call me La Sombra back at home—the shadow. I can be elusive and silent, capable of escaping anything.
And even naked, I’m prepared. With deft, quiet fingers, I maneuver the pin in my hair. It will take a little time, but I can undo this lock.
As I work, my fingers moving with muscle memory, his parting words echo in my mind.
This isn’t over. I will find out everything you know.
Not everything, mi querido jefe.
He thinks he can break me? I trained my entire life for situations exactly like this—to resist and to survive.
I grit my teeth and concentrate. I stifle a chuckle when I feel the lock give way under my fingers.
Yeah, baby, I’m that good.
Click.
The barely audible sound is the sweetest music to my ears.
I slide the chains off quietly. Now that I’m free, I have to move fast, every movement calculated so he doesn’t notice. My heart races with a thrill of defiance. I am not some helpless damsel. I am Isabella Morales, and no one will ever keep me in a cage.
I quickly assess my clothes. Wrecked. Shit.
I slide into my shoes. They’re clumsy, and I’d give anything for a pair of slim-fitting leggings and a tank top, but it’ll do for now.