Chapter 45

Laura

THE HUNGERhits me suddenly, a gnawing reminder that my body isn’t just mine anymore. I rub my eyes and check the time on my phone. It’s five minutes to midnight.

I’m naked, the sheets tangled around my legs.

Shivering slightly in the cool air, I wrap the sheet around myself and pad over to our walk-in closet. I open my side first, scanning the racks for something comfortable to wear, but nothing catches my eye.

On a whim, I walk over to Victor’s side and open his closet. His scent wafts out, a mix of cologne and something undefinable that makes me think of him. My heart aches with longing.

Geez, Laura, get a grip—do you always have to be this needy?

I spot a large, soft-looking T-shirt and pull it on, the fabric skimming my thighs. It smells like him, and I can’t help but smile.

I pull on a pair of old track pants, tying the drawstring snugly under my belly. As I make my way out of the bedroom, I pause, struck by the eerie silence that permeates the mansion.

Where is everyone?

The Morozovs keep a lean staff, but there are always a few guards and maids around, even at this late hour. Tonight, though, the house feels empty, abandoned.

My stomach gurgles insistently, dragging me out of my thoughts. I rub my belly, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Alright, little caterpillar, let’s find you something to munch on,” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood for myself.

The kitchen isn’t far, but tonight, it feels like a trek through an abandoned castle. The tiles are cold underfoot as I finally enter the familiar space. I flick on the light, squinting as it floods the dim corridor and kitchen.

I start rummaging through the fridge, looking for something to satisfy my cravings.

A sandwich will do.

I gather some bread, cheese, and a tomato, setting them on the counter.

I slice the tomato, my movements slow, my ears straining against the quiet. It’s too quiet. I shake my head, dismissing the eerie feeling as just nerves.

It’s just your imagination. You’re tired and hormonal and missing Victor. That’s all.

But as I turn around, my eyes widen in shock. There, standing in the doorway, is Dimitry.

He looks wild, his eyes bloodshot and his hair standing on end. His clothes are rumpled and stained, and there’s a manic energy radiating from him that makes my skin crawl.

“Dimitry?” I ask cautiously, setting down the knife. “What are you doing here?

He takes a step forward, and I instinctively freeze.

“You need to come with me,” Dimitry says, his voice hoarse and urgent. “Right now, Laura. We don’t have much time.”

“What are you talking about?” I demand, my fingers closing around the handle of the knife I just set down. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You don’t understand, Laura,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “They’ve got Eli, and if I don’t—”

“They? Who’s ‘they’?” I interrupt, my voice rising slightly as fear and confusion swirl inside me.

Who’s got Eli?

Chills race down my spine as I grasp the gravity of his words.

What the fuck is goingon?

Before Dimitry can answer, a large shadow fills the doorway behind him. I squint, trying to make out the features of the newcomer, but all I can see is a hulking figure dressed in black, a jagged scar cutting across his face.

“Davay, suka,” the man growls in a thick Russian accent, his voice low and menacing. “We don’t have all night.”

I swallow hard, my mouth going dry with fear. I’ve never seen this man before, but everything about him screams danger.

Dimitry steps closer, his eyes wide with urgency. “I can’t explain everything now, but we need to go. Now.”

Refusing to move, I stand my ground, clutching the kitchen knife tightly in my hand. It’s silly, maybe, but it’s the only weapon within reach. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

Slowly, keeping my eyes on the intruders, “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say again, my voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you need to leave. Now.”

The scarred man chuckles darkly, taking a step into the kitchen. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he leers, his eyes raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I can see why Morozov likes you.”

Dimitry moves toward me, his hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. “Laura, please,” he begs. “Just come quietly. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, my fear giving way to anger. Moving backward, I keep the kitchen knife pointed toward them, my knuckles white with the force of my grip.

The scarred man’s eyes flick to the small knife in my hand, and he barks out a harsh laugh. “What are you going to do with that, princess?” he sneers. “Poke us to death?”

I glare at him, refusing to be cowed. “I’ll aim for the eyes,” I retort, my voice steadier than I feel. “Or maybe somewhere a little lower. I hear that hurts like a bitch.”

His smirk fades slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his ruined face. He takes another step toward me, his bulk menacing in the cramped space of the kitchen.

“Enough of this bullshit,” he growls. “Grab her. We’re wasting time.”

Dimitry hesitates, his gaze darting between me and his accomplice. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the reluctance warring with desperation.

“Dimitry, please,” I try again, my voice softening. “Don’t do this. We’re family now. Victor will help you, whatever trouble you’re in. Just let me call him.”

The man’s grin falters slightly, his eyes darting to Dimitry. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” he grumbles.

Dimitry ignores him, his gaze locked on mine. “Laura, listen to me,” he pleads. “If you come with us now, quietly, no one has to get hurt. We’ll let you go as soon as we have what we need from Victor.”

I keep backing up, my eyes darting toward the exit.

Got to get to my phone. It’s in the bedroom. If I can just call Victor…

“Okay,” I say, my voice trembling. “Okay, I’ll come with you. Just… just don’t hurt me, please.”

Dimitry’s shoulders sag with relief, but the scarred man narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Why the sudden change of heart, princess?” he asks, his tone mocking.

“I’m afraid you’ll hurt… us,” I say hoarsely. “Stress isn’t good in my…my condition.” I put a hand on my belly. It’s a gamble, playing on their sympathy, but it’s all I have. For a moment, I see something flicker in Dimitry’s eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret.

The scarred man just snorts. “Smart girl,” he says, reaching for me. “Now come here, nice and easy.”

As his fingers close around my wrist, I move. With a cry of desperation, I lunge forward, plunging the kitchen knife into his thigh with all my strength.

He howls in pain, his grip loosening. I wrench free, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I race for the door.

“Stop her!” the man roars behind me, his voice tight with agony.

I don’t look back, don’t hesitate. I barrel through the kitchen door, my bare feet slapping against the cold marble of the foyer.

Up the stairs!my mind screams. Get to the bedroom, lock the door. Call for help.

I’m halfway up the grand staircase when I hear them behind me, their footsteps pounding, their curses echoing off the high ceilings.

“Laura!” Dimitry shouts, his voice ragged. “Stop! You’re only making it worse!”

Tears blur my vision as I run, my lungs burning, my legs trembling with exhaustion. I’m so close, the bedroom door just a few feet away.

I stumble inside, slamming the door shut and fumbling with the lock. My hands are shaking so badly it takes me three tries to turn the key.

The phone, where’s the fucking phone?

I scramble to the nightstand, snatching up the cell phone. But before I can even unlock the screen, I hear the door explode from downstairs.

In no time, the scarred man stands by the stairs, his face twisted with fury. Blood soaks his pant leg where I stabbed him, but he doesn’t seem to feel it.

He stalks toward me, his eyes glittering with malice. “You fucking cunt,” he snarls. “You’re going to pay for that.”

I back away, my heart in my throat. I’m trapped, nowhere to run.

Help, I pray silently, clutching my belly. Someone help us, please.

He’s on me in an instant, his hands wrapping around my throat. I claw at him, gasping for air, black spots dancing in my vision.

Dimly, I barely register the panic in Dimitry’s voice as he begs, “No, no, you can’t do this! Do you know who I am?” His words cut off with the muffled sound of a gunshot, followed by a heavy thud. And it’s too late.

The last thing I feel is a sharp pain as the man with the scar grips my hair, and then the world tilts when his fist connects with my face.

Then everything goes dark.