Pain lances through my wrists where the rope bites into my skin.

They tied me up for the car ride, and even though they untied me once we got here—wherever here is—the dull ache remains.

I keep my hands in my lap to hide the raw marks, breathing slow and steady to keep the panic at bay. Panic won’t help me here.

I inspect the room for the hundredth time.

It’s not a dungeon or the cell I envisioned it would be, but it’s no better.

A bedroom, if you can call it that. The walls are bare, and there’s minimal furniture.

There’s a dresser and a bed with stiff sheets that smell like mothballs, a single window locked and covered from the outside with what looks like plywood, and a door I already know is bolted shut.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. A day, maybe longer. I slept at some point, but not well. The worst part is that no one has told me anything. No questions. No threats. Just silence. That terrifies me more than anything else. My father doesn’t ignore problems. He doesn’t wait.

So why is he waiting now?

I press my hand over my stomach. The gesture is instinctual.

Protective. I barely had time to accept what I learned before I was taken, but now, it’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling completely.

My father can do whatever he wants to me, but my baby—Dimitri’s baby—will not grow up under his rule. I won’t allow it.

I sit on the bed and stare at the door, willing it to open. I need information. I need something to tell me what he plans to do with me. Killing me outright doesn’t seem like his style. I’m more useful as leverage, but for how long?

The lock turns.

I shoot to my feet, bracing myself as the door swings open. A man steps in first—one I recognize as one of my father’s guards. He has the same dead-eyed obedience I remember from childhood.

And then, my father walks in.

Evan Thorne is a man who has always carried himself like he owns every room he steps into.

Even with his graying hair, there’s an aura of control around him, the kind that comes from decades of ruling with an iron fist. His expression is unreadable as he clasps his hands behind his back and studies me like I’m some insect under glass.

I don’t speak first. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

“So,” he finally says, “you’re alive.”

I stare at him. “Disappointed?”

He huffs out something that might be amusement. “Not yet. But you are becoming a problem.”

“Just now? I’d think marrying into the Bratva would’ve bumped me to the top of your list months ago.”

His eyes darken, but his smirk doesn’t waver. He steps closer, and every instinct screams at me to move back, but I don’t. I plant my feet. I won’t let him see fear. “Tell me, Cecily, do you think Dimitri Barkov actually gives a damn about you?”

A muscle in my jaw twitches, but I keep my face blank. “Why do you care?”

He chuckles. “Oh, my dear, I don’t. But you should. Because if you think he’s going to burn his entire empire down to get you back, you’re sorely mistaken.”

I say nothing. I won’t play his game.

His smirk fades. “You’re not Seraphina. You never had her fire. You’re just a girl who was too naive to see where this path would lead.” He tilts his head. “Tell me, did he ever actually promise you a future? Or did you just assume?”

I don’t answer. It doesn’t matter what Dimitri said or didn’t say. I know what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt. And even if I was wrong, even if Dimitri never comes for me, I won’t let my father be the one to break me.

Evan watches me for a moment longer before sighing, like I’ve already disappointed him. “You have two options, Cecily.”

Here it is.

“You can stay here, under my protection, where you belong.” His voice is smooth, coaxing. “I’ll let you have your freedom. You won’t be locked in this room forever. But you will sever ties with the Bratva.”

I scoff. “And the second option?”

“You die.”

A chill runs through me, but I don’t let it show. “Wow. What a generous choice.”

His smile vanishes. “You don’t understand the position you’re in. Dimitri won’t be able to save you. You can tell yourself whatever fairy tale you want, but the second he has to choose between you and his empire, he’ll pick his empire. His real family. Men like him always do.”

I don’t break eye contact. “And men like you always underestimate the people you think you own.”

For a second, just a second, something moves across his face. Annoyance, maybe. But then he smooths it away, and he exhales like I’m exhausting him.

“Think about it,” he urges as he turns for the door. “I’ll be back soon. Maybe by then, you’ll have realized where you belong.”

He walks out with his guard following, and the lock clicks behind them.

I sit heavily on the bed. My hands are shaking, but I press them flat against my thighs and force myself to breathe.

I don’t have much time. I need to get a message to Dimitri. But how?

The guards won’t listen, and I doubt my father leaves anything unmonitored. But there’s one person who might help. Someone who’s been here longer than almost anyone. Someone who, despite her loyalty to my father, has always had a soft spot for me.

Marta.

While she was technically just a maid and not our nanny, she practically raised me.

After my mother passed away, it was she who tucked Seraphina in at night.

She’d sneak us treats from the kitchen when we weren’t allowed to leave our rooms. She never outright defied my father, but she was the only warmth in a house filled with coldness.

Surely, when she realizes I’m here, she’ll come for me.

I don’t have to wait long. A few hours later, she enters with a tray of food, but she keeps her eyes downcast. But when she sets the tray on the nightstand and glances at me, she looks…sad.

“Marta,” I whisper, stepping closer.

She presses her lips together. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

“I didn’t.”

Her face falls even more, but she doesn’t ask for more information. She just exhales and turns toward the door.

I grab her wrist before she can go. “Please. I need your help.”

“No, Cecily.”

“Marta, listen to me.” My voice shakes, but I don’t let go. “You know my father. You know what he’s capable of. If you let him keep me here, you know how this ends.”

She closes her eyes. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I push. “He will never spare me, not if it suits him. He wouldn’t have spared Seraphina if she had stayed, and he won’t spare you if you ever get in his way.” I squeeze her wrist. “You know I’m right.”

She lets out a slow breath. I see the conflict in her eyes. The years of obedience warring with the part of her that still cares. But then she pulls her wrist free and grips the tray so hard her knuckles go white.

“Marta,” I whisper. “Please. I’m…I’m pregnant, Marta.”

She whirls to look at me. For the first time, her mask slips. I see the anguish there, the regret, the horror. She knows exactly what that means.

A tear streaks down her cheek. She lifts her gaze to the ceiling, swallowing hard.

And then, she leaves.

The door shuts, and I hear the bolt slide. The tears come before I can stop them. This isn’t how I thought things would go. I imagined Marta would sweep me away, whisk me to safety, and everything would be okay. Instead, I feel the crushing weight of the walls, the hopelessness creeping in.

My baby. My poor, helpless baby.

I wrap my arms around my stomach. There has to be a way out. I have to find one, for his or her sake.

But how?

I sink onto the bed and rest my forehead against the wall. The tears don’t stop, but I won’t let myself scream. If I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I just have to hope that Dimitri will find me. That somehow, he can track me down before my father decides he’s finished waiting.

He has to.

I close my eyes, trying to remember what it felt like in his arms. That security. The peace. It feels so far away now.

Why the hell did I run away? I’ve always been so stubborn. So convinced that I can fix things on my own. And now I might lose everything, all because of my pride. If I had just listened to him, let him protect me, we might not be here right now.

I hate that I might never see Dimitri again. The thought cuts deep. I love him. God, I do. But there’s no chance to tell him now.

I take a deep breath and press a hand over my stomach.

I can’t give up. Not yet.

So I get up and walk the perimeter of the room again, looking for any weaknesses, any way to get free. But there’s nothing. No way out.

Time passes in a blur. I count the hours.

Day.

Night.

Day again.

Each time, Marta returns, silent, with a tray. She doesn’t look at me. It’s not until the third day that something changes. When she enters, there’s a dimple between her eyebrows. She looks as though she’s been arguing with herself.

“Cecily.” She doesn’t turn her back on me this time.

I sit up, staring at her.

“I can’t let you stay here.”