Page 42 of Unbroken

Oh mygod.

I squirm uncomfortably and nod.

“Tell me, Ruthie,” he says, in that same tone he uses when Luka refuses to go to bed, the tone that brooks no argument. “Tell me you’ll be a good girl this time.”

I nod and swallow hard.

“Fine. I’ll behave.” But I tack on at the end, “For now. If I give Rafail shit, will it reflect poorly on you? Are they going to expect you to… keep me in line, or whatever?”

His lips press together, and his jaw ticks. “Absolutely.”

All right, all right,fine. I’ll do whatever the fuck they tell me.

I don’t say that out loud though. I nod and shrug one shoulder. “Fine.”

He draws in a breath and releases it through his nostrils, then jerks his head toward the door.

Two uniformed men appear almost out of thin air. They nod and almost bow toward Vadka in a gesture of respect.

I forget how high-ranking he is. How powerful.

To me, he’s just… Vadka. The guy I’ve always looked up to. The only one I ever trusted to take care of my sister.

Fuck. My eyes are getting watery again.

One of the men takes a tiny device out of his pocket, scans Vadka’s eyes, and then shows him something to imprint his fingers. I do the same, following suit.

Then we’re in a steel cage that might look like an elevator shaft if it wasn’t so small and so tight. The walls around us are made of cement.

If I were claustrophobic, I’d be having a fucking heart attack right now.

We’re going down. Down.

My belly plunges to my toes, and suddenly I realize… maybe Iamclaustrophobic. I just never challenged it before.

I’ve never been in something that resembled a tomb encased in concrete, sinking down into the center of the earth.

Dramatic, maybe, but that’s what it fucking feels like.

Jesus.

I keep going, and then I realize I’m holding my breath. My vision’s a little dizzy.

Vadka is talking with the men, then he turns to me, and it seems he knows right away I’m not okay.

“Hey. Ruthie,” he says, his voice laced with concern, gentle, as if he might be coaxing a child to bed. “Are you okay?”

I open my mouth to tell him yes, to lie through my fear, but instead, I shake my head. I close my eyes and try to remember how to get air in my lungs.

“Breathe,” he says in my ear.

But it does nothing.

He might as well tell me to stop anything—stop my heart, stop existing—because I can’t breathe, and it scares the life out of me. I’m drowning, and there’s no water in sight.

And then… his forehead presses to mine.

He smells so fucking good. He’s so warm. His hand laces with mine, palm to palm, finger to finger, and right then, I forget how to breathe ina totally different way. I wish I could hit the pause button because I’ve never felt so safe in my life.