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She glances at us both, her lips wobbling as she bites down on them. When she speaks again, her voice breaks.
“I just want to know that my family is okay. Please, at least grant me that.”
Nikolai looks over at me, but I can’t find it in me to look at him too.
We both know that her family is far from okay. But we also know that we’ll keep Chiara safe, and for now, that’s all that matters.
Nikolai reaches forward, swiping his thumb across her cheek, wiping the tears away. I do the same to the other side of her face.
Her breathing stutters as we both move in even closer, invading all personal space she has left, then we lean in further, pressing our lips against either one of her pink cheeks. Chiara gasps as we make contact, and that sound goes straight to my cock. We pull away, only to find her watching us both, her eyes wide, and her lips parted.
I smile.
She’ll crack soon.
I know it.
We’ll break through to get to her.
And when we do, she’ll be ours.
“Don’t make things difficult for yourself, darling.”
Her breathing hitches, and she blinks away the last of her tears.
As Nikolai and I leave the room, we speak softly in Russian, devising a plan to throw everybody off about this entire situation.
Chapter Eleven
Chiara
The pain comes out from nowhere, so sharp and unrelenting as it curls through my lower stomach, tightening around my insides with every passing second. It pulls me from the edge of sleep, the sharp ache anchoring me back into this reality—this madness which refuses to let go.
I press a hand to my stomach, but the pain only grows worse beneath my palm, spreading across me like fire.
It takes me a moment to realise what this could mean, and my entire body freezes. I’ve been so caught up in my fear, my confusion, that I’ve not paid this any attention. A horrible possibility blooms in my head, and as I squeeze my legs together, I know that I’m right.
No.
Not now.
I sit up, my breathing uneven, and I glance all around the room.
It’s quiet in here, empty for once, but I know it won’t last long.
They’re always close.
Always watching me.
I feel my heart beginning to race in my chest as I push the blanket away from my body, swinging my legs over the side of my bed as I stand up.
I don’t even hesitate.
My hands fumble at the waistband of these trousers they’ve given me as I pull them down, just enough to be able to see, and I gasp.
Blood.
It stains the plain white underwear, the dark red a stark contrast against the cotton fabric. My heart sinks as panic claws its way up my throat. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.