Chapter 8

eight

. . .

River

M y limbs trembled involuntarily as I sat huddled in the corner, shivering, clammy, but lucid. I hadn't been this aware of my surroundings since I arrived here. They'd kept me drugged pretty consistently. Until now.

Time was an absolutely foreign concept. It could have been weeks or months; everything was a hazy blur. All I knew for certain was the door to my cell would eventually open, and a guard would come in with my meal. It was the only time the door ever opened, meaning it was my only chance to escape.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the faint sound of footsteps filtered from under the door, the telltale jangle of keys and guard number three's incessant whistling following shortly after. I tensed as my mind whirled with every possible choice I had.

The thought of leaving this room filled my veins with spiders made from fear. I didn't know what waited for me beyond it. Freedom, hopefully. But it could just as easily be an entire army of my enemies. I could barely stand upright on my own. How could I run? Fight? They didn't even give me plastic utensils to eat with. I had almost nothing at my disposal.

Although this time... this time I had a fully functioning brain. That was a hell of a lot more than what I'd been operating on. They seriously fucked up when they left me lucid. Either they underestimated my will to live, or they weren't used to their prisoners fighting back. If that was the case, they'd have to kill me first, because I would fight with every last breath in my body.

The lack of weapons in this room put me at a severe disadvantage. But I was resourceful. I'd use my nails and teeth. I'd kick and punch until I couldn't anymore. Technically, I also had a bucket of shit. Not bad as far as weapons went.

These monsters drugged me and made me live in my own filth for God knows how long. Maybe it was time I turned the tables. Tried a little biological warfare of my own.

Listening hard for the footsteps, I scrambled to the other side of my cramped quarters and picked up the little bucket that had served as my toilet. I gritted my teeth against the wave of nausea that threatened, telling myself it was no worse than mucking stalls. Except horseshit was a lot fucking different than this.

"Come on, you bastard. I've got something for you." My voice was rusty with disuse, barely more than a whisper, but I drew strength from my threat all the same.

The door opened, revealing the guard I'd been expecting, his youthful face and white-blond hair making him appear sweet and innocent. I knew better. He might be the smallest of them, but he was terrifying in his cruelty.

"Hello there, shlyukha. How nice to see you on your feet for once."

He didn't have a tray with him, so it must not be mealtime. Which meant they had other plans for me.

My heart lurched, adrenaline flooding my system and helping me find strength. I only had one shot at this. I couldn't let him get his hands on me, or I'd be overpowered and out of the game before it even really started.

"Fuck you, you piece of shit," I growled—or tried to—before flinging the contents of the bucket straight at his face and then lobbing the bit of metal at him for good measure.

Instinctively, he gagged and coughed, bending at the waist as he worked to get control of himself. That was all I needed. I darted as fast as my weakened muscles allowed, escaping his blindly reaching arms and making it to the open door. Thank God he'd been careless and hadn't locked it behind him.

I'd love to say I tapped into some long dormant track star hidden within me and sprinted down the hallway. But it was less sprint and more graceless stumble. I fell almost immediately and had to crawl back up to my feet, using the wall to help keep me upright as I staggered forward.

Just keep going, River.

I had seconds at most before he recovered from my shit shower and called for reinforcements. They'd kill me if they caught me.

An enraged bellow sounded behind me, and I tried to push myself faster. Panic had a sob building in my chest, but I couldn't release the cry and waste precious energy.

Blinding pain burned from the roots of my hair, spreading across my scalp as I was hauled backward. The stench of my urine radiated off him with every step he took.

"Fucking cunt. We should have just killed you. Done the world a favor."

Even through my pain, my brain caught onto his words.

"Why didn't you?" I spat.

"Because at the moment, you're worth more alive than dead."

He had no idea how much he'd just given away with that statement. If they needed me alive, that gave me a world of leeway. I swung my arm down, aiming for his dick, but not quite sure what I made contact with.

He snarled in response, shoving me back to my corner. "Don't move."

"Fuck you." I launched myself at him again, ready to tear into him. In my mind, I was a fierce combination of football player and MMA fighter. In reality, I was probably a more pathetic version of a kitten.

Bear would be so disappointed in my form, but he'd be proud as hell of my fight.

My heart gave a pang at the thought of my protector and the pool of blood he'd been lying in when I last saw him.

I let out an enraged cry, hating these monsters who had taken so much more from me than they could ever know. I lashed out, nails raking across the motherfucker's skin. It must have hurt because he backhanded me, the blow hard enough my vision went fuzzy, and pain immediately blossomed in my cheek.

I fell to the floor, my head swimming as he raised a booted foot.

Oh God. He might've said I was worth more alive than dead, but he was all fury and contempt. And there was a whole world of possibility between alive and dead. He never said what state I needed to be in. Broken was still technically alive. So was catatonic.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment he brought that foot down, praying the strike to my face would send me into unconsciousness before I had to endure the pain he was going to dole out.

The harsh boom of a gunshot made me flinch just before the spray of something warm peppered my skin. I wanted to open my eyes. See who rescued me from this asshole. But the shock and fatigue were too much, and everything around me faded into oblivion.

When I came to, my face felt as if it belonged to a bobblehead. It was swollen and way heavier than usual. One eye was all I could open, and every movement of my cheek sent a deep ache through my muscles as I worked to focus on my surroundings.

"Shit. What happened? How long have I been out?" I whispered, knowing it would be one of my three men at my side.

Who else would have come to my rescue and shot my jailer?

Rough fingers gripped my chin and pulled my head to the side, where I saw the blond man had a massive hole where his face used to be. "Look what you made me do. Alexsei was such a promising young man, and now he's dead because he lost his temper."

Fear raced through every cell, my body trembling in response to the sound of my kidnapper's voice. "Th-thanks for the r-rescue. Get your f-fucking hands off me."

"Oh, malyshka, I didn't rescue you. I'm protecting Dominik's investment."

"W-what?"

He grinned, and that might have been the most terrifying thing of all. "You're going to auction, pretty bird." He laughed at the horror he must have read in my expression. "That's right. Time to earn your keep."

He grabbed me by the arm and hauled me up, a desperate whimper leaving me at the cruel treatment.

"Take off your clothes. We need to get you cleaned up for the auction. With a body like yours, no one will care what your face looks like. They'll still pay top dollar."

"For what?" I managed, but deep down, I knew.

"To own you."