“Place your bets, gentlemen…and ladies, of course!” Alexi called to the quietly humming crowd.
Again they erupted into a frenzy of activity. Dmitri peered down at me, and I stared back in a bloody rage. My opponent walked near, taunting me while I was still held in place.
“Hope you’re tougher than that pussy brother of yours,” he snarled, his Russian accent thick and coarse.
I flashed him a hard stare, calm and focused now, intent on revenge. I felt the change as it coursed through me. My despair rapidly evolved into a cool, but full-blown fury. I would begin with my adversary, and move on to whichever of Dmitri’s men got in my way before I finally reached Alexi and Dmitri themselves. Though the noise of the crowd had intensified, I tuned it all out and concentrated solely on my new path, the new target of my vengeance.
The timer rang, bringing an end to the betting session, and commencing the fight. The men holding me back released their grip and set me free. I stood up straight and faced my opponent square on. He snarled insulting epithets and danced around me with his fists held up like a boxer. He lunged and threw a punch, a glancing blow to my chin. I stumbled back then raised my fists.
I pushed the Russian’s arm around as he swung at me again. My fist sliced through the air and connected firmly with his sweaty face. Blood spurted from his nose, though he was only slightly stunned. He spun back around and, with surprising speed, ran headfirst, square into my chest. The impact knocked me backwards onto the floor. I used his momentum to hurl the Russian up and over my head, into a flying somersault behind me.
I scrambled to my feet and readied myself again. My opponent was fast as well, advancing on me with his fists swinging. He connected another blow, this time to my already broken nose. I was stunned for a fraction of a second. Blood flowed freely from us both. When the Russian swung his fist again, I twisted away, spun around, and booted a kick to the center of his back, followed by a blow to his head. He fell to his knees on the concrete, dazed and confused. I backed away and looked up into the gallery where Alexi and Dmitri stood.
Next to Dmitri stood another man. I recognized him as the third man at the table at Dmitri’s Tea House. He sneered at me with hatred, though I didn’t even know him. He exchanged words with Dmitri then turned away, roughly pulling a woman out from behind him. He grabbed her by what looked like a leather collar bound around her neck. Her hands were secured behind her back. And though her hair was a tangled mess covering her face, I knew instantly that it was Hannah.
My heart skipped a beat in terrified dread. The man jerked back on the collar, forcing her head up. To my horror, Hannah’s face was swollen, covered in angry scrapes, cuts, and bruises. She looked down at me, and I recognized the defeat in her dead, expressionless eyes before she turned her face away in humiliation.
“Hannah,” I whispered, taking a small step in her direction.
They’d dressed her in whore’s clothing that revealed bruised flesh and bloody streaks trailing down her legs. I gasped just as my opponent grabbed me from behind. He spun me around and landed two punches directly to my battered face. I wobbled back a few steps, shook my head, and stood straight up to face him. Rage, black as night, coursed through every cell in my body.
I took three steps forward and swung like a madman. I struck blow after blow to the Russian’s face, ribs, and abdomen. I kicked at his knee and snapped it backwards. He fell to the floor, screaming. But I kept moving forward as the fury and hatred swept through me like a virus. I stomped on his ribs. They crackled beneath my foot like bubble wrap. I kicked him hard in the head. His neck snapped, breaking with an audible pop. He was dead before his body even settled to the floor. Without a moment’s hesitation, I sprinted over to the cages directly below Hannah. Before anyone even knew what I was doing, I climbed up the chain-link fence and pulled myself up and over the metal railing. The crowd whooped in unison and drew back.
I came to Hannah’s captor first as he peered over the rail and crushed his windpipe with one swift blow to his throat before any of Dmitri’s men even knew what I was doing. I grabbed him as he flailed and stumbled backwards then threw him, head first, over the railing and onto the concrete floor eight feet below, all while the crowd screamed and surged to the exits, blocking Dmitri’s guards from my path. Dmitri caught my eye, his lips pressed tightly together. Alexi and his men pushed Dmitri from the side, urging him to flee. They both glanced at me over their shoulders, caught in the tide of a panicking sea of people and the small army of guards that swelled against them.
Off to the side, Hannah stood frozen in fright. I pushed her up against the wall at the far end of the gallery, away from the hysterical crowd. Then I turned to the railing and kicked it repeatedly, over and over, until a bar loosened and became disjoined at one end. I grabbed it and pulled hard until it broke free. I swung my makeshift weapon wildly at Dmitri’s men as they descended upon me with their guns drawn. They seemed reluctant to shoot into the terror-stricken crowd swirling around us.
I ducked from grabbing hands and reaching arms and swung the metal bar against their skulls, one after the other. One man went down at my feet, his head split open like a ripe melon. Another staggered against the rail. I kicked him high in the chest. He tumbled backwards, falling to the arena floor, his face frozen in a grotesque mask of fear as he anticipated the lethal landing. I turned back to Hannah for a moment as she crouched down on the floor. She stared at me in shocked disbelief.
“Hannah! Go...run and hide. Go, go, go!”
She scrambled along the wall to a doorway and passed through. Men streamed all around her, jostling her about. I feared she might fall since her hands were still fastened behind her back. I lost sight of her as she was swept along in the human current and enveloped into the darkness of the warehouse.
Satisfied she had escaped, I turned back to settle the score with Dmitri. He was dutifully protected by a small group of his disciples. In a fury blind to all else, I swung my club at the closest attendant. He crumpled to my feet, but locked his arms around my ankles. I stumbled, off balance, and was grabbed from behind and lifted off the ground, my arms pinned to my sides. The anchor at my feet gave way, and I kicked out, connecting with the man’s throat in a grotesque yelp. I flung my head back and felt my captor’s nose crush beneath the back of my skull. He released me, his hands reaching for his bloody face. Rotating in his direction, I wheeled my weapon with everything I had. The impact left a deep impression in the side of his head. I pulled hard, repulsed by the wet sucking sound as the bar came free from the yawning groove.
I made similar work of the man still at my feet, as well as two more of Dmitri’s men. No one was left to challenge me. With the immediate danger gone, I scanned the gallery and spied Alexi’s back as he fled with Dmitri a short distance ahead.
I caught Alexi first and cracked my weapon along the back of his head. He fell forward onto the ground. With a dazed look, he peered back at me over his shoulder. Terror had erased all evidence of his usual grin, and his mouth grew wide in fear. I was glad he knew he was about to die at my hands. I sneered in vindictive delight and heard Alexi’s frightened shriek in response. As he scrambled away on his hands and knees, I rammed the metal rod into his back like a sword. He wanted a gladiator, and I was only too happy to oblige.
Without even waiting for him to die, I pulled the bar from Alexi’s twitching body and ran after Dmitri. Two more of his thugs advanced on me, but neither could open fire with the handful of people still surrounding us in curiosity. One raised the butt of his pistol and whacked me over the head. I fell onto my back, blinded for a moment by my own blood, but even from the ground I kept fighting. I swept the bar along the floor and felt it crack against the man’s ankle. He fell beside me, crippled with pain, cursing and screaming. I swung the rod in the direction of his voice and made contact with his skull. Lights out. With a quick swipe of my arm, I cleared the blood from my eyes then looked up. The second man stumbled over his accomplice, arms flailing for
balance. As he fell towards me, I aimed the rod up underneath his chin, embedding it deep into his skull.
Panting and covered in blood, I pulled myself out from underneath their bodies then pushed through the few who remained on the walkway. With the bloody metal rod still in my hand, I scrambled down the stairs, three at a time, in search of Dmitri. I ran through the darkened warehouse, roaring his name, pushing myself through the crowd as they fled through the exit. Tires screeched as cars sped away.
Finally, I spied Dmitri twenty yards ahead. He was being assisted by one of his few remaining men, the same man who’d been waiting outside the Tea House. He and Dmitri sprinted for the Mercedes, or at least as fast as a nearly three-hundred-pound man could sprint. He clambered frantically into the car and locked the doors as his driver revved the engine to life. I reached the vehicle just as it started to move. I gave chase and bashed ineffectively at the windows before it sped out of reach.
I stared after the vanishing car, stomping in rage, deeply disappointed to have missed my opportunity to snuff the worthless life out of Dmitri Chernov. Breathless and bleeding, I dropped the metal bar and leaned over, resting my hands on my knees, my heart thrashing within my chest. I took a moment to catch my breath, and promised myself I wouldn’t rest until I had settled the score with Dmitri.
My priority now was to find Hannah. I prayed that she’d found someplace safe to hide within the warehouse. I picked the metal rod up off the pavement and ran back into the building. There were a few men still walking around the expansive space. I raised my weapon as I approached them. I must have presented a frightful specter: half naked, covered in blood and gore, a bloodied weapon in my hand, and a fierce rage in my eye. Their eyes grew wide and their hands flew up, backing away before turning and running.
When I saw no one else in the building, I called out Hannah’s name and searched through the warehouse racks and pallets. I wanted to scream for her, but I was afraid to draw attention from anyone who might still remain unseen. I moved as far away from the arena cages as possible, hoping Hannah would have thought to do the same. All around me were tall racks that held large mechanical parts. I hissed Hannah’s name over and over, praying she would recognize my voice and reveal herself.
I thought I heard some shuffling and low sobbing. I stopped and held myself still, listening in concentrated focus for the source of the noise. Advancing slowly, I made my way through the maze of shelves until I found Hannah crouched in a dark corner, shivering. I covered my face in relief and hurried to her side. She shrieked in terror and turned away.
“Hannah, it’s okay. Shhh, it’s just me.”
I leaned down and knelt next to her. She sobbed uncontrollably, and her entire body shook. With great care, I folded her into my arms.
“You’re safe now, Hannah. You’re safe. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
I held her for a long time, until her sobs eased and the tension in her body lessened. When she was finally quiet, I pulled back and looked into her eyes. I smoothed her tangled hair back from her face and placed a few chaste kisses along her forehead.
“Hannah, let me untie your hands, okay?”
She nodded and turned so I could assist her. I worked at her binding, but the knot was pulled too tight.
“I need to cut it off, all right? Wait here.”
I searched around until I found something sharp enough to cut through while still small enough to slip under the rope, close to her wrists. It took several minutes, but when I finally sawed through the bindings and freed her arms, Hannah immediately wrapped them around my neck. Mine found their way around her trembling body, holding her tight against me. My fingers entwined themselves into her hair, and I rested my face in the crook of her neck and shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I didn’t know. I never should have let you go.”
Hannah nodded, selflessly offering me absolution yet again. I leaned back and searched her eyes to see if she really meant it. I put my hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, and lastly, her mouth, very tenderly. When I pulled back, my hands slid to her neck where the offensive collar still rested.
“Hannah, can I cut this thing off you?”
She nodded again. I made short work of it and threw it aside as if it burned me. She gave me a tentative smile.
“All right now, we need to get the hell out of here, but...” I found it difficult to say the words. “They killed Nick, Hannah. They took him away. I can’t just leave him here. I have to find his body.”
She bowed her head, her eyes sad. “I know. They threw him into the van as they were bringing me out,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Ty. I know how hard you tried to save him.”
I nodded. “I should go see if the van is still here.”
I helped her stand, and we ran to the rear door, back near the cages. The white van was still parked there. We peeked in through the passenger side window and spied the keys in the ignition. Looking at each other, we had the same thought.
“Get in,” I urged.
As Hannah jumped in through the passenger door, she turned and glanced into the back where Nick’s body lay cold and still. Hannah and I shared a long, sad look before I started the vehicle and sped away.
Chapter Forty-Three
Hannah
By some miracle, some grace of God, I was saved. I released a shaky sigh, laid my face in my hands, and cried. My fate had changed so abruptly, and in such a short span of time, I scarcely knew what to believe. From the relative safety of Ty’s protection, to the living hell of captivity, and back again in mere hours, I survived what I felt sure was to be a lifetime of sexual servitude.
It hadn’t taken me very long to realize I was not being driven to the airport, as Tyler had planned. Terror filled me as I was delivered to the sadistic Mr. Sergeyev instead, his gaze silently assessing. I glared back at the man who considered me his personal property—bought and paid for—to do with as he wanted. There was no hope for me. I was condemned.
I was thrown into an empty utility room with nothing but a dim light overhead to illuminate the blood-stained mattress lying on the floor at my feet. They left me there by myself for nearly an hour while I imagined all the horrible things that awaited me. I cried, huddled in the corner, terrified and sick to my stomach.
Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and the monster, Sergeyev, stood silhouetted in the harsh light pouring in from behind him. He was eager to assert his authority. I wasn’t prepared for what he did. I endured it, as much as I wished I could simply curl up and die. He purposely tried to rip my humanity from me, making me beg for mercy then refusing to grant it. Fighting only served to further arouse him, so I learned to submit quietly. But this, in itself, enraged him, so I found a place in between.
I shook my head and closed my eyes, determined to banish the humiliating memory of my submittal, of thinking that Ty had played some part in my kidnapping. He saved me…again. Tears of relief streamed down my face.
From out of nowhere, sirens began to wail, and the lights of squad cars flashed in the night before us as Tyler and I raced to escape the carnage of the warehouse. Dozens of police cars stormed along the waterfront and poured onto the wharf.
“Bloody hell,” Ty bellowed. “Who called the cops?”
We passed the regiment of police cars and turned westward into The City. Tyler kept his worried eyes alert to the rear view mirror, and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced over at me for the first time since we’d left, scanning my appearance in the undulating streetlight. He tipped my chin up with his finger and swallowed hard. I tugged at my meager clothing, trying my best to cover up. His lips, split with bleeding cuts, tensed into a thin line as he surveyed the dried blood, scrapes, and bruises that covered me from head to toe.
“Good God, Hannah. You need to go to the hospital.”
I shook my head. “No, please, not yet! I need some time.” I looked away, shame washing over me as the excite
ment of our narrow escape receded. But I felt his eyes on me.
“Hannah—”
“No, Ty, please,” I pleaded, turning back. “Just a little while longer. I’m begging you.”
He nodded reluctantly and turned back to the road. “Fine. For now,” he said. “We can go to my place. Get cleaned up. I’ll find you something to wear. It’ll give me some time to figure out what to do about Nick.”
He remained quiet for several minutes, though his lips moved as he silently debated our next move. Finally he sighed and met my gaze.
“Hannah, I don’t think there’s any way we can keep the police out of this now. I’m going to have to tell them about Nick. About Alexi and Dmitri, and my own involvement in all of this. There’s just no way around it now.”
His eyes swept over me, studying my injuries. “You will need to go to the hospital, and when they realize the…” He stopped abruptly and shook his head, his jaw ticking in angry frustration. “…extent of your injuries, they’ll call the authorities. They’ll want to know what happened.” He turned back to the road when the traffic light turned green. “Eventually, the police will link us together with all that’s happened since that first night in Oregon. We’ve left a long trail, easily followed: the ATM, your credit card, our trashed motel room, and Dmitri’s dead man. It all leads back to us. And now…all this.”
We stopped at another light, and he glanced back at me again. “They’ll put it all together, Hannah. You need to figure out what you want to tell them, how much you want them to know,” he said, his tone very serious, “especially about me,” he added. “I’m willing to confess my part in all this, and suffer the consequences.”
I shook my head hard. “No, Ty, please. I don’t want them to know. Please.”
“Hannah, we can’t hide the evidence at your house. They’ll make assumptions. They will figure it out.”
“No! We…we can…make the evidence appear to support something else. They’ll already know about Dmitri’s man at the motel, right?” I didn’t wait for his response. “Well, then, we…we can say that you came to my home to see me, thinking I was Erin, but I explained everything to you, showed you the PI report and photographs proving I wasn’t and…and when you were leaving, Dmitri’s man burst in and…and attacked us both. We’ll tell them we managed to escape in my car. They can think he was after you because of Nick, that he followed you to my place.”
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