by Bella King
“Put the robe on,” Rurik says, his large hand still covering his eyes.
Beside me, laid out neatly on the small bed, is a light-pink silk robe with the letter S embroidered above the right breast. A forked tongue protrudes from the letter, making it look like a serpent.
I snatch the robe from the bed and quickly pull it over my shoulders, wrapping the belt tight around my waist and tying it in place. The fabric is so thin that the outlines of my nipples are showing, but it’s miles better than being naked.
“I hope you understand,” Rurik says as he lowers his hand from his face. “I’m not doing this to humiliate you.”
“Then why are you doing this?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest and frowning.
“You’re starting fresh today,” he replies, rising from his chair to his full height of over six feet. “You are no longer Samantha Brown. Your real name is Violet Sommer, and you’re coming with me now.”
Everything he tells me only makes me more confused. My name isn’t Violet, and I don’t want to go with him. I want to return home and continue my normal life by myself. I’m afraid of what Rurik has in store for me.
“When you step out of this door,” Rurik says, calmly waving a hand toward the dense wooden door with an aggressive triple bolt lock holding it shut, “You will have to obey everything I say. Should you step out of line, well,” he pauses, rubbing a hand across his sharp jawline, “You won’t want to do that. Your life now depends on how well you can follow instructions.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” I demand, planting my feet firmly on the ground and tightening my arms over my chest.
“All in good time,” he replies. He pulls a small black phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He dials a number and presses the phone to his ear, flashing a quick smile to me before the call is accepted.
I glare at him, holding my ground as he begins to speak in Russian. His conversation is short, consisting of only a single sentence on his end, but it gets the point across. He snaps the phone closed as the heavy bolts on the door slide open.
“It’s time to go,” he says, holding out his hand for me to take.
I shake my head aggressively, my auburn curls bouncing across my face and sticking to my lips. There is a horrid feeling in my gut, like a hot stone sinking deep inside of me, and I’m trembling despite my best effort to steady myself. I want to appear strong.
Rurik steps forward, placing a huge hand on my shoulder. His grip is like ice and fire at the same time, and I can feel it all the way down to my bone. He looks at me with his pale blue eyes and says, “Violet, you either come with me, or you end up like your father.”
I jerk my body, attempting to free myself from his grip, but I flail useless, unable to break free. “You don’t know anything about my father,” I say with a hiss. “And my name isn’t Violet.”
His gaze softens, and a smile creeps into his solemn face. “I knew him quite well, actually. He was a fighter, just like you are, but even fighters can make mistakes. I’m not going to let that happen to you. You’re coming with me.”
I dig my feet into the carpet, anticipating Rurik’s attempt to move me to the door, but even in doing so, I am unable to stop him. He picks me up like I weigh nothing and throws me over his shoulder, one large hand covering the backs of both my thighs as he hauls me out of the room. I pound his broad back and thrash my legs, but he ignores me as he carries me out.
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Sinner’s Saint
God, no. Not like this.
My heart thumped in my chest as I ran down the block, six pairs of feet clambering down the pavement after me. I was sorely outnumbered, and I doubted that I could outrun them all. My only hope at this point was to run into someone else on these dark streets, but who else would be out at this hour?
Why the hell was I out at this hour? I knew the answer. It was because I took risks. I refused to conform to the life that my parents had wanted for me, and this was the result – running through the slums at midnight, weaving through grimy nooks and allies in hopes to outmaneuver my attackers.
I was the perfect bait for them, and that was unfortunate. Blonde hair topped a nearly perfect face, set on a pair of slim shoulders that led to moderately large breasts and a narrow waist. I was tall enough to be a model, but that wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be an actress.
Auditions shouldn’t be this late at night.
My lungs hurt as I took in desperate lungfuls of the humid night air. Down in Florida, the nights were always warm and wet, something these men were probably after. I couldn’t let this happen to me. I wasn’t a victim.
Thank god I wore flats instead of heels. The producer said it would be an active audition, and lord, was it ever. I was flying down the streets of South Florida like I was going for a marathon record. I wouldn’t be winning any medals for this, only my life.
I knew better than to let thugs get close to me. I had taken off the minute they came into view. It wasn’t worth it to stay calm in a situation where your gut begged you to bolt. I had learned to listen to my instincts and get the hell out if the situation felt wrong. This wasn’t the first time I had to run for my life.
A shoe fell off my left foot, but I kept going. These flat could never stay put, but I couldn’t wear sneakers to an audition. It wasn’t a good look, and I was desperate to get a role. That’s why I had agreed to come out all this way when I knew damn well it was dangerous at night. I let my drive get the better of me again.
My foot stung as it slapped against the rough asphalt. I was tempted to dip down through an ally, but that could spell trouble for me if it didn’t break out into a neighboring street. Nobody would see me or hear my muffled cries in an ally. No, my best bet was to stay on the main street and hope someone else was out there.
But it was empty. The whole city was empty at this time of night. Everyone but me knew better than to wander around south Florida at this hour. Alligators were the least of my worries. It was the men who were the true monsters.
I could barely breathe anymore. My lungs were drawing in as much oxygen as they could, but they couldn’t process it. My hands and feet tingled, and I felt myself slowing down. It was like one of those dreams where you’re running, but you barely move.
“Fuck,” I panted as I gripped the corner of a building and flew around it. At this point, I had to confuse them and catch my breath, or I’d be done for.
A green dumpster sat against the back of a building. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of even touching something so filthy, but this wasn’t a normal situation. After a split second of hesitation, I dived into it like a competitive swimmer. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so disgusting.
My shoulder met with a black plastic bag full of soft trash. I assumed that it was leftover restaurant food from its pungent aroma, which was a relief. It could have been impaled by a broken shower rod or a board full of nails instead.
I lay still in the trash as the sound of deep voices and footsteps approached. They echoed down the street and around the corner, slowing down as they tried to figure out which way I had gone.
My heart was beating so fast that I feared they would hear it. I was trying not to breathe heavily, but I felt like I was starving for air after having run so fast, especially when the air I was breathing was mixed with the rancid fumes of rotting waste.
I took in a deep gulp of air and held my breath as the men approached the dumpster that I lay inside. If they looked over the edge, they would spot me easily. What happened next would be up to fate to decide. It was out of my hands.
Only two seconds into holding my breath, my lungs were already screaming for more air. I was having trouble staying still as my body urged me to rise from the awful trash and gasp for breath.
“Don’t hide, bitch,” I heard a man growl, quickly coming toward my dumpster.
&
nbsp; My hand closed around a bag of trash beside me, preparing to fling it at the man if he leaned over the dumpster and spotted me. I had never seen this coming, but then again, I was far too headstrong to ever pay attention to the dangers that lay ahead of me. If I wanted it, I would get it, no matter what I had to do. Finally, it seemed like the dangers had caught up to me, and I was about to pay the ultimate price for my overconfidence.
A gunshot rang out so close that I went partially deaf as the sound split through my eardrums. I anticipated the impact of the bullet, the pain, and the blood, but none of that came. I hadn’t been the one to be shot.
How could I be when I was tucked into a dumpster, hallway buried under black bags of garbage? It was someone else who had been shot, but that wasn’t the final round. Another shot split the air, and then another as the scene outside of my hiding spot turned into chaos.
I heard shouting, and then a loud bang of someone falling against the metal side of the dumpster. There was the sound of people running, and then everything fell silent. It all happened within a few seconds, but it felt like hours. I didn’t dare move from my hiding spot.
Who had been shooting at who, and why? I didn’t understand what had just happened, but I was thankful, nonetheless. Whatever happened outside of the dumpster, it had prevented me from falling into the hands of the six men who had been pursuing me.
“Get out slowly, and with your hands up,” a gruff voice shouted, clearly directed toward me. Was that a cop? I had never felt so relieved.
I took a deep breath, finally able to get air, and reached to the sides of the dumpster, the slippery residue of a thousand bags of trash rubbing off onto the palms of my hands as I hoisted myself into a sitting position. I thought that I would see a man in a blue uniform when I came up, but the man I saw didn’t look anything like a cop.
This wasn’t a rescue, and I wasn’t safe.
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