9. Kat

Chapter 9

Kat

I wake up with a start.

Pain explodes in my head, a pounding reminder of my captors’ version of a “sleep aid”. Sunlight streams through the windows across the room, intensifying the ache. Groaning, I shut my eyes again. The throbbing sensation reminds me of the morning after that ill-fated Margarita Pong game with A.J. in Mexico. My current headache feels just like that, except a thousand times worse.

But somehow, I manage to open my eyes again, forcing myself to bear the light. I can’t afford the oblivion of sleep or darkness. The room’s air conditioner is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside, at least.

I should be grateful. The pain in my head means I’m still alive—and even better, conscious.

I wonder how long I was out. It was early afternoon when the two burly men captured me. My current view of the windows shows the sun is just about to set, which means I was unconscious for hours.

I glance at the windows, noting the sunset’s glow. I must have been out for hours. The idea of being unconscious and vulnerable to those men for that long sends a chill down my spine. I push the thought away. Right now, I need to focus on survival, not on the horrifying things they might’ve done to me while I was helpless.

I take in my surroundings. I’m in a spacious room with a massive bed—the only piece of furniture in the place. The sheets, cool and clean, graze my skin as I shift, but as soon as I try to sit up, I feel resistance. My wrists and ankles are tied to the bed frame.

Not great. Definitely not ideal. Still, I won’t lose heart.

I manage to shake off the sheets enough to get a look at my restraints. They’re leather, soft yet secure. I tug and twist, testing every angle, but there’s no give. The cuffs keep my arms and legs firmly in place, making it impossible to reach or pry at them with my fingers or mouth.

For now, I concede defeat. If I can’t escape on my own, I’ll have to focus on other options.

The room is nearly empty, cavernous with cream-colored walls and a high ceiling. Opposite the bed, large windows offer a sliver of sky painted in gold and orange—a view that suggests I’m high up, likely in a penthouse. To my left, a single wooden door marks the exit, and on my right, two open doors lead to a bathroom and a walk-in closet. I doubt either option offers a way out.

As I scan the luxurious surroundings—Carrara marble floors, expensive sheets—I piece together the obvious: my kidnapper is filthy rich if they can afford a room like this as my cell. Whoever orchestrated this is also bold as hell, daring to pull off a daylight abduction on one of the city’s busiest streets.

Who am I kidding? There’s only one person with both the means and motive to arrange something like this.

The stronzo .

I’ve dreaded this day, when he’d decide A.J. and I were no longer useful. And it makes perfect sense that it’s happening now, right after I handed him the Flame of Mir—the greatest prize we could ever give him. Or perhaps he’s discovered our plan to bring him down. Either way, he’s decided to escalate things in an alarming way, right when we’re close to beating him.

I pray A.J. isn’t in the same situation. If she’s safe, there’s still hope. With any luck, she can keep working toward our plan, maybe even finish what we started. I have to believe she’s okay—otherwise, I won’t be able to function.

I pray A.J. hasn’t been abducted as well. Whatever the Italian has in store me won’t be as terrible as what he’d do to her. And if she has escaped him, then not all hope is lost. With any luck, she will follow through with our plan without me. Now more than ever, we are officially fresh out of options.

I force myself to breathe deeply, to stay calm. This kidnapping is just a bump in our path to victory. One day, A.J. and I will laugh about this—our latest daring feat.

If she’s safe, I can handle this. I will handle this. No way am I letting the stronzo see me sweat.

The sky outside turns a deeper orange as I mentally run through scenarios, trying to predict what comes next. Then, a rattling sound jolts me. It’s coming from the door to my left. My heart pounds as I turn toward it as much as my restraints allow me.

The unmistakable click of a key in the lock sets my pulse racing. The doorknob turns, and I stop breathing.

A mix of dread and anticipation washes over me as the door opens. My captor enters, and my thundering heart halts to a sudden, brusque stop.

I gasp, loudly. I might faint for the first time in my life.

Nik stands before me, every bit as devastatingly handsome as I remember.

I’m frozen, staring, struggling to believe my own eyes. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.

His lips curl into a cruel smirk, but his beautiful, dark eyes are hard, glinting with contempt.

“Miss me?” he says.