by Nicole Fox
“I love you,” I whisper, pulling her close to me. “And I’m sorry you had to be strong.”
Eve sits up and tucks her legs underneath her, resting on her heels. “Please don’t be sorry. You are here. You came for me and for Milaya and that is what matters. When Edgar was torturing me, all I could think about is that I would have done the exact same thing you did if you’d been taken. You knew where I was, and you came for me. I shouldn’t have ever made you feel bad about that.”
I don’t realize how much I need to hear her say those words until she says them.
I reach out for her, touching her waist tenderly, letting my fingers slip against her bare skin and higher until the black lace of her bra is under my thumb.
She looks down at my thumb and lifts an eyebrow. “Are you serious right now?”
I shrug. “I can’t help it. You look good.”
“You can barely walk,” she says, biting back a smile.
“Luckily,” I whisper, walking my fingers around to the clasp on her back. “I can lie down for this.”
When I unclip her bra, Eve lets the straps slide down her arms slowly, her breasts pushed together from her position. I try to sit up so I can kiss them, but the pain is too much. Eve presses me back against the headboard and then straddles me, her knees on either side of my hips, hovering over me.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “You are hurt. I don’t want to—”
I grab her face and bring her lips down to me, silencing her protests. She goes fluid against me, arching her body into my chest, and I know she wants this as much as I do.
We move slowly, caressing each other with gentle fingers and soft kisses. Eve unzips my pants and wraps her hand around my length, and for the first time in hours, I feel something besides pain.
Pleasure builds in my abdomen like a small fire and with every stroke, Eve adds another log.
I grip her waist, doing my best to avoid her bruises. When I slip my hand between her legs and push aside her panties, she freezes, pouty lips parting so seductively I think it might finish me right here and now. She lets out tiny breaths with each stroke of my finger and it isn’t long before she is circling her hips against my hand.
As soon as I pull my finger away, Eve positions me at her opening and slides onto me in one stroke.
Her weight on my lap isn’t much, but it’s enough for me to remember the wound to my leg. Still, pleasure wins, and I dig my hands into her hips and pull her down onto me over and over again.
It isn’t our best sex, but being with her in a way that feels normal and good is exactly what I need.
She circles her body over me, arching her back and riding me gently.
I hold back as long as I can, but when she presses her body close to me, her breath hot against my neck, and moans that she is coming, I let go.
We fall apart together, sweaty and bruised and grasping for the last seconds of relief before reality crashes down over us.
21
Eve
They come for us a few minutes after I put my clothes back on.
I’m sitting on the bed next to Luka. He is bare-chested, his pant leg split up to his hip, and his bandages looking close to needing to be changed when the door bursts open.
Faster than I think should be possible in his state, Luka is on his feet, jaw clenched.
“Don’t you all know how to knock?”
The guards clearly have no interest in banter as they walk directly to my side of the bed and grab my arms.
I’m too stunned to move.
Luka and I just talked about how strong I am, but as the guards approach, all I can think about is that this could be the last time I see Luka. That could have been the last time we ever have sex. I might never get to speak to him again.
“Don’t touch her!” Luka roars, hurtling over the bed and throwing himself at one of the guards.
I scream and try to help him as much as I can, thrashing my arms and legs to make it more difficult to hold onto me, but the guards barely move. They are so much stronger than me. And right now, they are stronger than Luka, too.
The guard brushes Luka aside like he is nothing. He falls on the floor and cries out when he lands on his leg.
If it wasn’t fractured before, it probably is now.
“I love you!” I yell at him over the din of the room. “I love you.”
If this is the last time we are together, I want him to know. I want him to know how I feel. That I don’t regret anything.
That I don’t regret him.
Luka doesn’t answer, but drags himself to his feet using the end of the bed and throws himself forward again.
This time, the guard is visibly annoyed. He sighs and lets go of my arm to deal with Luka, but Luka’s attack must be more than he expected because the guard stumbles back as Luka collides with his chest.
Then, Luka rears back and throws a fist, and the man doubles over with a groan as the punch hits its mark.
“Shit,” the guard still holding me mumbles. He doesn’t look panicked, but he is surprised.
I spin around as fast as I can and knee him in the crotch.
His entire body clenches, and his face twists into agony. “Fuck.”
I bring my knee back to hit him again, but the guard is too fast. He wraps an arm around my chest, pressing in on a bruise on my arm, and crushes me against him. Then, I feel the cool kiss of metal at my temple.
“I’ll fucking shoot her right here.”
The noise in the room goes quiet.
Luka and the guard separate.
Luka is breathing heavily, his arms hanging down like he doesn’t have the energy to stand up—he probably doesn’t. And the guard is adjusting his uniform and checking that he still has his own gun hidden at his hip. He pulls it and points it at Luka.
“Stay back or we’ll kill you both.”
When Luka looks at me, I see heartbreak in his eyes.
It is unlike anything I have ever seen on his face before. It is a level of agony I’ve never witnessed, and I can only imagine it is the expression he wore the night he realized Milaya and I had been taken.
I hope to never see the expression again.
And then I let a sob wrack through my chest, realizing I very well may not. I may not see any expression on his face again.
Not the tilt of his brow when he is amused, or that half smirk he wears when he is trying to pretend he is angry but is actually fighting a smile. I may not see the flare in his eyes as I walk towards him naked. I may not ever again see the smile he saves for Milaya when he’s singing her to sleep every night.
I may never see this beautiful man again, and something in my chest cracks wide open.
“I love you,” Luka finally says. “I love you so much.”
The guard kicks him in the chest, sending him sprawling back on the floor and writhing in pain.
As the two men pull me out of the room, I try to look back and see him one more time, but I only catch a glimpse of his legs sprawled next to the bed before the door slams closed and is locked from the outside.
I’m led to the entry hall of the inn where Edgar is waiting.
He has on a crisp black suit, looking like he is headed to a funeral.
For all I know, he might be.
The men stop a few feet from Edgar, and when he nods to each of the guards, they let me go and step away at once.
“Prepare the slaves for transfer,” Edgar says.
I can’t believe I ever thought Edgar was a small man. A weak man.
He is small, but only physically. Now, after everything he has put me and Luka through, I realize how tall he holds himself. Edgar’s shoulders are broad, chin lifted, body relaxed. He is the kind of man with obvious power, but I missed it before. I underestimated him before.
I won’t make that mistake again.
“Good news,” Edgar says, clapping his hands together in front of him. “Despite your little show yesterday, you have been purchased.”
My heart sinks like a stone in my chest, but I do my best not to let him see.
“Arnold McGowan,” he says, answering the question I didn’t have the voice to ask. He nods his head towards the lounge, and I turn to see a middle-aged man in a dark green mask staring at me.
I remember seeing him, but he never stood out the way the other men did. He never expressed any interest in me, so I paid him no mind.
I can see the interest now.
Even with his mask on, I can see the hunger in his eyes.
I wonder how much he paid for me. Though, really, I don’t want to know.
Somewhere in the back of the inn a door opens, and I hear the whisper of tears and sobs.
The women are back there, getting ready to be transported. That is what Edgar sent the men to do.
The auction is over.
I didn’t save myself or anyone else. It still happened. The women were sold. I was sold.
It is over.
I expect hopelessness to press in and wash everything else away, but instead, I’m just angry.
Angry that these people think they have the right to pluck people from their lives and make a profit from them.
Angry that my family was broken apart and separated because of an embittered feud.
Angry that Edgar looks at me like I’m no more than a dog who should learn to behave.
“You will go with him without fighting,” Edgar says. “If you do fight, it will only bring more heartache for you. The Cartel does not offer returns, but Arnold has been instructed that should he wish to be done with you, you cannot be freed.”
The front door is still open, and a gentle breeze rolls in over the grass.
It seems unfair that such horrible things could be happening on an otherwise beautiful day. I look past him to the rolling grass behind him and the tree line beyond that.
I wonder when I will see the sky again or feel a breeze. Will Arnold be a kind master? Will I be allowed to go outside and see the world? Or will I be trapped in a basement and left to waste away?
How long will it take before I lose my hold on sanity?
As Edgar continues outlining the many different ways I could be disposed of to ensure I do not run and tell the police of my experience in their custody, I see a shadow separate from the tree line behind him.
Like a large bird, the black figure pulls away from the trees and it takes me several seconds to recognize the creature is not a creature at all, but a vehicle. A black SUV.
And behind it is a similar vehicle. And another.
A line of SUVs drives through the trees and up the dirt road that leads to the inn.
And they are driving fast.
Edgar’s brow furrows. He hears the sound of the tires crunching across the gravel, but he wasn’t expecting anyone. Certainly not this many people.
He turns around and curses under his breath, and I realize all at once who it is.
Luka told the Bratva we would be at the inn for five days. It has been just over the one hundred and twenty hours he told them to wait, and he still hasn’t been in touch.
So, here they are to save us.
While Edgar is staring at the cars, Arnold McGowan moves from the lounge into the entryway. “Who is that?”
“Guards!” Edgar yells over his shoulder.
While he is distracted, I reach down and run my finger along the hem of my robe. When I feel the touch of cool metal against my fingertips, I wrap my fingers around the blade and tug. The suture thread Kari used to sew the blade into my robe tears easily.
Edgar turns back to yell down the hallway again—the sound of the women crying in the back room is loud enough that the guards must not be able to hear him—but before any sound can come out, I take a deep breath, lean forward …
And plunge the scalpel into his neck exactly where Luka taught me to.
His flesh gives way easily beneath the sharpened edge. Blood pumps from the wound in rhythmic pulses, drenching me up to the elbow.
Edgar’s mouth opens and closes like a fish desperate for air, and then he drops to his knees. His hand comes up to his neck, but it is far too late to stop the bleeding. Even if an entire surgical staff was standing in the room, they wouldn’t be able to help him.
In a few more pumps, he will have lost most of the blood in his body.
A few weak pumps after that, and he’ll be dead.
I feel a sick pride. Even if they kill me now, at least I’ll have fulfilled my promise.
I step back to avoid the blood pooling on the wood floor, and Arnold McGowan yells and jumps back. “What in the fuck did you do?”
The SUVs are lined up in the grass outside the inn, and men I recognize—men without masks on—are moving towards the inn, guns raised.
I move to step out onto the porch, but there is a hand around my neck, holding me back. I sputter for breath as Arnold McGowan yanks me back inside.
“You are mine. I bought you,” he growls. “You are coming with me.”
He tries to take me back down the hallway, but I can see Grigory moving towards the front door of the inn. I am so close to being rescued. I can’t stop fighting now.
I thrash, throwing my entire weight in every direction so Arnold has to use both arms to hold onto me.
He wraps his arms around my middle, picking me up off my feet, but he doesn’t have my arms pinned to my side, and I still have the scalpel.
He realizes this after it is already too late.
I slash the blade across his neck just as he lets go of me.
I drop to the floor, pain roaring through my tailbone, but it has to be better than Arnold feels. Blood is spurting from his neck, not quite as lethally as it did from Edgar’s, but it still isn’t good.
Arnold stumbles away, clutching at his neck, but his hands grow slippery with blood.
“Eve.”
I turn and see Grigory and four other men standing in the entryway. He gestures me aside with his weapon, lifts it, and pulls the trigger.
Arnold drops to the floor behind me, lifeless.
I run towards my friends, my family. “Luka is in there somewhere. And there are a bunch of women in red and purple dresses. They are innocent. Don’t hurt them. But find Luka.”
Luka, Luka, Luka.
His name is my heartbeat, my only purpose.
I understand how he felt now. When I asked him to save the other women, when I insisted it was important, he told me he cared about nothing but me. I couldn’t understand it in the moment, but I see it now. I feel it.
If I left this inn with just Luka, it would be okay. I would survive.
Without him, though? I’m not sure. I can’t imagine how my body would go on if he wasn’t in the world.
“I need a gun.” I spin around and hold out a hand to the men. “Now.”
Grigory looks from me to the men around him and then back. “We have guns. Stick close to us and—”
“My husband is your leader, and I just gave you a direct order,” I hiss. “So give me a fucking gun.”
Grigory stiffens, then half bows before nodding to the skinny man on his side. I recognize him as a newer recruit. This is probably one of his first missions. He looks disappointed as he hands me his gun and heads back out to the SUV, but I don’t mind. He’ll have plenty more.
As for me, I hope it will be my last.
I tiptoe through Edgar’s blood to grab the keys from his inside jacket pocket. Then, Grigory goes in front of me, listening as I direct him to the small room in the servants’ quarters where Luka and I were being held.
As soon as the door opens, Luka lunges forward, holding the metal table over his head. He swings it, and I see the moment he recognizes the men in front of him as his own.
He throws his weight to the side quickly, barely missing Grigory, and nearly falls over.
“Shit, it is good to see you,” he says, limping to a standing position. “Where is Eve? Is she—”
I step forward, and Luka wraps me in his arms.
“We’re going to get out of here,” I whisper against his mouth, tears pooling in my eyes.
I blink them back and hold my gun with two hands.
He nods and echoes my words. “We are going to get out of here.”
Luka makes like he is going to grab my gun, but then he thinks better of it and asks another of the Bratva members for his. He hands it over immediately.
“We have to get out of here,” Luka says.
I follow him for a second before I stop and pull away. “I need to go see if the women are okay.”
“Eve,” Luka groans. “Let the men handle it.”
I shake my head. “They are terrified. But if they see me, they may come with us. They will trust us more. I have to go check on them.”
“We need to make sure every member of the Cartel left in this building is dead,” Luka says.
“Then go. I will meet you when it is over.”
He stares at me, his green eyes wide and searching.
I pray I’m not going to have to fight him on this. That I’m not going to have to tell him once again that I can handle this. By now, I hope I have shown him that I can.
Luka steps forward, wraps a hand around my neck, and pulls me to his lips. The kiss is quick but fierce. He presses his forehead to mine once and then pulls away. “I’ll meet you when it is over.”
On his way out the door, he tells Grigory and a few other men to stick close to me, and I don’t mind. I want the backup.
Luka turns left and heads back towards the entryway while I go right, towards the sound of the dying gunfire.
By the time we get to the main holding room where all of the slaves were held the first day we were brought to the inn, the men in the Bratva are making small circles and checking corners for anyone they could have missed.