Page 9
Story: Scarlet Sins
“In exchange,” the man says, smiling broadly, “for my assistance, the great Don, Sergio Augusto’s gracious assistance in getting this Erin back safely. To her son.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw, but he’s got me. Every second Erin’s out there with Niko is a second more she’s in danger, and I don’t trust the fucker. Not at all.
I have no option. “I, Demyan Yegorov, agree to your terms.”
“Excellent. We have a deal.” He clicks off the recorder and tosses it on his desk. “You’re not going to drink up?”
“My patience is now nonexistent,” I snarl.
He sighs. “Very well. Come. I’ll give you the location and some extra men, so we can take Niko down.”
Chapter Three
ERIN
Crying isn’t an option.
I tell myself that as I try to stave off the tears, as I dash away the ones that fall with my hand.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here for. Sometimes I lie down, but I’m too scared to sleep, no matter how hard exhaustion pulls at me. The moment I close my eyes, I snap them open at the first wave of the edges of wakefulness unravelling.
If I sleep, what happens then?
My mouth is dry, and the back of my throat aches from the tears I’m holding back while also tickling with need for water, just like my queasy tummy turns and growls. If I ate, I’d hurl, but it doesn’t stop the hunger creeping in.
I long for my baby boy. And Demyan… Christ, how can I love a man who’s capable of marrying another and keeping me as a piece on the side? I concentrate on that wound because in the grand scheme of things, it’s small.
I know he said he wouldn’t, but his world is so vastly different from mine, so I don’t know if I believe him. And it’sa place of violence. I don’t want my child—children—exposed to that, to become that.
The fact Alina is good, and Demyan has a gentle side he rarely shows—except with me and with Sasha—it’s… I don’t know. It’s good. But is it enough?
Then again, could I even run?
The wordrunmakes a sob rise and erupt and I lift a hand to press it against my mouth, the chains clanging, and that brings me sharply back to reality.
I’m a prisoner. I don’t know where I am or what this Niko intends to do with me. I don’t know if my baby boy is okay, and too much time being starved, left without water, and what will that do to the unborn baby in me? I don’t even know if Demyan’s alive.
I force myself to stop.
He’s alive. Niko said his beef was with Demyan. If he’d killed him, then why would I be here?
It hits me hard.
Am I bait?
Is Sasha?
And if Demyan doesn’t come, what will he do to my son?
This time, I can’t control the panic as it tears into me. I have to get out of here, escape, find my boy.
But how? My wrists are raw with trying to get free, a futile thing. The manacles are just that little bit too tight and even if I got out… No, even if I’m on the other side of the country, getting out is smart.
But how? I’m back to that again. I could wait for Demyan. If he knows.
Of course he knows. That’s the point of being taken the way I was.
The door opens. The only reason I know is I’m staring at it, and Niko comes in, looking fresh and clean, though there’sa film of dirt on him. The invisible kind. The dirt that comes with corruption and evil.
A muscle ticks in my jaw, but he’s got me. Every second Erin’s out there with Niko is a second more she’s in danger, and I don’t trust the fucker. Not at all.
I have no option. “I, Demyan Yegorov, agree to your terms.”
“Excellent. We have a deal.” He clicks off the recorder and tosses it on his desk. “You’re not going to drink up?”
“My patience is now nonexistent,” I snarl.
He sighs. “Very well. Come. I’ll give you the location and some extra men, so we can take Niko down.”
Chapter Three
ERIN
Crying isn’t an option.
I tell myself that as I try to stave off the tears, as I dash away the ones that fall with my hand.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here for. Sometimes I lie down, but I’m too scared to sleep, no matter how hard exhaustion pulls at me. The moment I close my eyes, I snap them open at the first wave of the edges of wakefulness unravelling.
If I sleep, what happens then?
My mouth is dry, and the back of my throat aches from the tears I’m holding back while also tickling with need for water, just like my queasy tummy turns and growls. If I ate, I’d hurl, but it doesn’t stop the hunger creeping in.
I long for my baby boy. And Demyan… Christ, how can I love a man who’s capable of marrying another and keeping me as a piece on the side? I concentrate on that wound because in the grand scheme of things, it’s small.
I know he said he wouldn’t, but his world is so vastly different from mine, so I don’t know if I believe him. And it’sa place of violence. I don’t want my child—children—exposed to that, to become that.
The fact Alina is good, and Demyan has a gentle side he rarely shows—except with me and with Sasha—it’s… I don’t know. It’s good. But is it enough?
Then again, could I even run?
The wordrunmakes a sob rise and erupt and I lift a hand to press it against my mouth, the chains clanging, and that brings me sharply back to reality.
I’m a prisoner. I don’t know where I am or what this Niko intends to do with me. I don’t know if my baby boy is okay, and too much time being starved, left without water, and what will that do to the unborn baby in me? I don’t even know if Demyan’s alive.
I force myself to stop.
He’s alive. Niko said his beef was with Demyan. If he’d killed him, then why would I be here?
It hits me hard.
Am I bait?
Is Sasha?
And if Demyan doesn’t come, what will he do to my son?
This time, I can’t control the panic as it tears into me. I have to get out of here, escape, find my boy.
But how? My wrists are raw with trying to get free, a futile thing. The manacles are just that little bit too tight and even if I got out… No, even if I’m on the other side of the country, getting out is smart.
But how? I’m back to that again. I could wait for Demyan. If he knows.
Of course he knows. That’s the point of being taken the way I was.
The door opens. The only reason I know is I’m staring at it, and Niko comes in, looking fresh and clean, though there’sa film of dirt on him. The invisible kind. The dirt that comes with corruption and evil.
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