Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I look at the man and blink in surprise. He looks familiar to me. Why does he look familiar? I shouldn’t know who he is, but something tells me I’ve seen him before. I shake my head, unable to process anything further. They drag the man to his feet and haul him out of the room. Demyan turns to the remaining men, raps out instructions, and they get to their feet, heading into the hallway with guns drawn. Demyan slams and locks the door behind them.
“Stay on the floor, Calina,” he orders. I don’t move. I don’t speak. I watch him in silence. We’re alone in the wrecked room with the dead body of the boy and I can’t stop shaking.
“Who was that? Who did that?” I finally whisper.
He raises a brow to me and looks at me for a long minute before he speaks. “We will know soon,” he says. “We’re sweeping the security footage and my men will extract the truth from the gunman.”
I nod, a chill running through me. I’m glad I don’t need to witness the methods they use to “extract the truth.”
“I—I’m sorry he died,” I say stupidly, looking at the dead body on the floor in front of me. I feel like we need to cover his body or something, and I look around the room for something, but find nothing.
“Thank you,” he says with a sigh, and for one brief moment I catch a glimpse of his humanity. “He was our youngest member. Just joined a week ago, still wet behind the ears and learning his place.”
“I saw,” I tell him. “I could tell.” I feel like I need to keep talking. “He talked back to you or something?”
Demyan looks at me in surprise, then to my shock, his lips quirk up in a smile. “You’re an observant little kitten, aren’t you?”
I don’t respond.
“Yes,” he says, sighing, facing the boy again. “He was bold and fearless, but needed a little fear put in him,” he says. “Needed to learn to curb his temper and obey instructions.” He raises his eyes to mine and smirks. “Like someone else I know.”
I squirm and look away.
Then he sobers and his voice grows angry. “But he didn’t deserve to die, and those responsible for this will pay.”
“Do you have any idea who is responsible?”
His gaze grows distant, but all he says is, “There are a few possibilities. When you and I go this weekend, I should be able to put the final pieces in place, if my men aren’t able to extract the truth from our prisoner.”
He reaches for my hand and yanks me to my feet, and with one hard tug, pulls me to his chest. “You are not injured at all?”
I shake my head.
“Good,” he says with a rueful smile that makes my belly flip. “I’m the only one allowed to hurt you.”
“Lovely,” I mutter, but he doesn’t reply.
He begins cleaning the wrecked room, when his men arrive and speak to him in Russian.
He nods, gives a few more curt instructions, then turns back to me.
“Come,” he snaps. “There are no more intruders and those I summoned are ready to meet you.”
They’re ready to doll me up for him. I inwardly groan.
After that… I’m his to do with as he will.
At least then I can begin paying back what I owe him.
He takes me in silence back to his room. Once inside, he releases me and shuts the door.
After a few minutes, a knock sounds on the door, and he lets in a whole team of people carrying bags and beauty supplies. I’m whisked away to the little bedroom, only to find stacks of boxes containing clothes and shoes. After what happened this morning, this feels so wrong, so frivolous and pointless in the face of imminent death and violence. But I let them do what they came here for, allowing them to beautify me, because I know the choice is his. Demyan stands in the corner of the room, occasionally answering his phone and snapping out a brief response before shutting it off.
For hours… for torturously long hours… I’m pampered and preened, waxed and tweezed. My hair is done, my nails and feet groomed, my makeup applied meticulously, and I’m measured for new clothing. It’s grueling. Who does this for fun? God.
All while he watches.
When they have me lie down to wax the bikini area, I try to stop them.
I’m such a fool.
“Not there,” I say. “God, please.” It’s so invasive. But Demyan’s watched for a reason.
“Yes, there,” he contradicts. “Calina, lie still.”
So I lie there and let them do that.
It’s so weird, this fashion sort of show thing, when I’ve witnessed a murder and a gun fight in broad daylight. Is this what it’s like all the time with men like him?
Does it matter? This is my existence now. This is how I’ll pay for Calina’s sins.