Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 125368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“I love you.”
Viktor stiffened at my words for only a brief second. And then I felt all the tension drain from his body. I pulled away slightly to fully look at his face.
“I love you too.”
I knew he wanted to say more. So much more. I knew this was all too much for him. But…we were going to be okay.
I saw it in his eyes. Almost like a renewed hope. I drank in his handsome face. Bruised but alive. Hurting but still so devoted in the heart.
God, how I loved this man. I never knew it was even possible to love someone this much.
“Two weeks. We have only two weeks left,” Viktor stated.
“I trust you.”
He nodded before taking a deep breath. I watched as the heaviness faded from his shoulders. Viktor was no longer slumping or caving inward. He squared his shoulders, meeting my gaze with dark eyes…eyes that reminded me of the Viktor I fell in love with.
Dark eyes that held a mystery—a dangerous secret, something feral. That look on his face…the look everyone seemed to fear, I had come to adore.
My heart thundered in my chest when he bent down and took my lips so passionately, I lost my breath.
Two more weeks.
And then we were out of here.
Freedom.
Chapter 23
Viktor
Carlos was in the same room as me. He was standing right there on the other side across from me. Very few people had had the opportunity to be in the same room as Carlos Martinez. And those people were divided into two groups. The victims. And the allies.
You were only blessed to be in the same room as Carlos if he was either making you regret ever taking your first breath or he was signing some kind of deal with you.
You were either his enemy or his greatest ally.
Like the rest of us, he was the Devil dressed in a fancy suit.
I’d heard of him many times. Saw him once, eight years ago. The Russians and the Mexicans didn’t cross paths as often. There could never be more than one person in power—sitting on a throne of massive wealth and danger. I couldn’t exactly see Alessio and Carlos sitting a room, laughing and sharing jokes like best friends. Ha, that would be a fatal mistake. Many years ago, we had decided to stay out of each other’s way. A truce. This way, the two biggest cartels still ran smoothly without bumping heads. If so, it would have been war.
And now here we were. Business associates. Partners in crime.
Except I forgot how old Carlos actually was. Way fucking older than Valentin. The baddest, most feared Mexican Cartel King already had one foot deep in the grave. The white hair on his balding head, white beard, and dozens of wrinkles told me he was close to pushing mid-seventies. Fuck, he could probably even be in his early eighties.
He looked like Ayla’s baked donuts. Ugly and dry. Very repugnant. And definitely not edible. Bless her soul, she loved cooking but she wasn’t as good with baking. We couldn’t tell her that, though, or Alessio would rip my fucking trachea out of my goddamn neck.
Carlos might have still been in power, but his sons were right next to him. Waiting for their moment to take over as Kings. One day, all of this would belong to the twins—the psychotic duo. I was pretty sure they were counting down the days until their father’s death.
Taking my eyes off Carlos, my gaze scrutinized the rest of the room.
The party was ongoing, the night still very young. Except I wanted to be anywhere else except here.
This wasn’t your normal party. Yes, there was alcohol. Plenty of that. Dancing. Laughter. But it was all for the wrong reasons.
Woman naked, paraded around, made to dance and seduce their audience. It was obvious they were trained well. The collars on their necks were proof of what they represented.
Slaves.
To be fucked and to be sold to the highest bidder.
It was the annual party, hosted by Valentin Solonik. Filthy rich men from all across the world attended. There were around a hundred of us, give or take.
What a fucking night.
There was a bitter taste in my mouth, watching the show. Valentin thought it was time for me to attend these parties, to make myself familiar with the real business. For when it was time for me to take over. All of this one day will be yours—his words.
I didn’t refute him.
Only because I knew Carlos would be here. He never missed these parties. After all, he was Valentin’s partner.
And tonight, it was my turn to make a move.
Game on.
From across the room, Carlos and I made first eye contact. He raised his wine glass in a salute, his smile widening. The invitation was clear but I was playing this my way.
I knew he was intrigued. Intrigued by Valentin’s heir. He was the type of man who liked to dig deep into your head and shred apart your secrets, little by little.