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I t stinks in here.

The tower room Alexander had me locked in that first time was uninviting, but it didn’t reek of piss and blood. This jail cell I’m in now does.

My head still throbs on the left side where a large swollen knot has bloomed. Probably from when I was dumped onto this concrete floor.

“Hey. Anyone there?”

I sit up from the wall I’m leaning against. The door to the cell is made of bars and the hallway is dark. As far as I knew, I was alone down here.

“Yeah?” I hurry to the door, pressing my cheek to the bars so I can look down the corridor as far as I can.

An arm slides out into my view and her fingers wiggle. “Can you see me?”

“Your hand, yes.”

She laughs. “Oh, good. I’m really alive.”

I take a deep breath. Having someone there brings some relief to the terror I’ve been drowning in since waking up in this darkened pit.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“I hurt in a lot of places, but everything’s working. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Where is here?” I hesitate in my question, not sure I really want to know.

“I don’t know exactly. I hear trains now and then that sound like the subway, but I haven’t been outside. And they only take me upstairs when they want to…” her voice trails off into a sniffle. “I’m fine. Did they hurt you when they brought you in?”

“No. Not really.” I touch the bump on my head. It’s nothing, I think, compared to what she’s been through. “Do you know who has us?”

“Michael DeAngelo.” Her voice hardens with the name. “This is his place. He runs things here.”

“Michael?” I rest my head against the bars. “He’s related to Marco?”

“I’ve heard him talk about Marco. I think they’re brothers,” she says.

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“I doubt it.” She snorts. “I’ve been here over a week.”

“And Michael brought you here?”

“No, not him.” She yawns and I wonder what time it is. There are no windows to the outside, and it’s been dark in here since I woke up.

Something crawls over my foot, and I jump back a step. A squeak echoes against the wall and a small dark shadow runs between the bars and down the dim corridor.

“Who was it?” I remember the voice in the restaurant. It was a woman, and I can almost place it, but every time I get close to it, the throbbing in my head starts again.

“He didn’t give his name before he snatched me off the street. I was walking home from the bar; it was dark and I was alone. Never even heard him coming. The only thing I really remember about him was his voice. Really raspy and he had a thick accent, not Italian.”

My skin electrifies. “Was it Russian, you think?”

“Could be.” She sighs. “How’d you get here?”

“I was taken from a restaurant.” In the middle of the afternoon in a crowded restaurant. Someone had to have seen it. Artem must have noticed right away I didn’t come back from the bathroom.

“It’s going to be all right.” I bolster my voice. “My husband is going to come; he’s going to get us out of here.”

Alexander isn’t going to let anyone hurt me. He will burn the city to the ground to find me.

I sink back to the ground, pressing my back against the wall I share with my new roommate.

“He’ll find us.”

“Well, I hope he has an army with him,” she says with a bitterness to her tone. “There are at least twenty men upstairs right now.”

A door creaks open, cascading our little cells in bright fluorescent lighting. I wince from the discomfort and turn my head to the side. It’s too much at one time.

Clicking of heels against cement tick off each step our visitor takes as she makes her way toward us. The light shining behind her keeps her face hidden from view.

It’s only when she steps up to my door that I catch the whiff of her stuffy perfume. I know this scent; it’s like a blend of stale rose mixed with the damp musk of old fabric. And I’ve only ever known one person to wear it.

“Cheryl?” I blink until my eyes adjust to the lighting, and then she comes into focus.

“Hello, Megan.” Her thickly painted lips spread into a wide grin. She’s wearing a deep-green dress with a white pearl necklace. Her red hair is swept up into a French twist and pearl droplets dangle from her ears.

“What’s going on?” I wrap my hands around the thick, chilled bars. The grime and dirt of the place covers them.

Cheryl sighs. “You have something that I need. Once you give it over, you’ll be free to go.”

“I don’t understand. What do I have?”

“The flash drive.” The facade of pleasantry drops with her demand.

“I don’t have it,” I say quickly.

“You saw it.”

“I don’t have it anymore. They took it from me.” She has to know the Volkovs are never going to give over that drive. And knowing that could make her desperate.

Life experience has taught me being desperate makes people do really stupid things.

Like sneaking into a Russian Mafia’s secret club office to seek out blackmail information for the Italian mob. I can mentally flog myself later for my previous stupidity, but first I need to get out of my current mess.

“Then we’ll have to figure out a way for you to get it back.”

“You want me to steal the drive from my husband and hand it over to you?” Hopefully, she’ll hear the insanity inside the statement.

“Since he’s your husband, it should be an easy thing to accomplish.” Her smile twists as her eyes roam over me. “You’re a pretty thing, I’m sure you can get him wrapped around your little finger easily enough.”

“Alexander Volkov,” I deadpan. “You think he’s dumb enough to fall for something like that?”

“He was dumb enough to think marrying you would keep you safe,” she snaps.

“I’m not doing it.” I grip the bars of my door tighter. “You and Marco can go fuck yourselves. I’m not doing anything else for him.”

She runs her tongue over her top teeth, then lets out an exaggerated sigh with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You really are a stupid girl. When Marco suggested having you get the drive, I told him you’d fuck it all up, and you did.”

“Hey. I’ll go. I’ll get whatever you need,” the woman in the cell beside me pleads.

Cheryl leans to the left, trying to peer into the second cell. When she can’t quite get a good look, she walks over to her door and pulls out a key from the pocket in her dress. The door creaks eerily as it swings open, and a small woman steps out.

She’s young, barely eighteen if that, and naked. Bruises cover her arms and legs, purplish handprints on her thighs. A scab has formed over a deep cut on her left breast and her hair is pulled up into a set of pigtails, exposing the dark bruises around her neck.

My stomach rolls at the thought of what she’s been through at the hands of the evil in this place. Of what horror awaits me if Alexander doesn’t get to me.

“I can do it. I can get what you need.” The young girl shifts from one foot to the other, folding her arms over herself. More to keep herself warm than an attempt at modesty. She lost that long ago, I think.

“You could use a shower.” Cheryl makes a face and takes a small step back. “Those assholes don’t care where they stick their dick.”

“Alexander will never allow anyone near those files. He has them hidden.” I try to make her see reason, but I’m not sure where it’s going to get us even if she does decide to give up on her search.

“Cheryl! Are you down here?” Footsteps hurry down steps and the lights flicker to life.

My stomach twists.

Oleg.

I remember him from the wedding dinner. He’d been one of the last in a long line of well-wishers. He shook Alexander’s hand and congratulated him on our marriage. Alexander introduced him as one of the men who’s worked with him for a long time.

A fucking traitor!

He stands at the foot of the stairs for a moment, taking in the girl standing in front of Cheryl, before swinging his gaze to me. His eyes widen when he sees me.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” he nearly bellows, rage filling his expression.

“I told you I need that drive. If Stevan gets a hold of those pictures, I’m fucked.”

“I said I had it handled,” Oleg nearly growls.

“You haven’t handled anything. Marco gave Michael the okay to help us. If she won’t get the drive, we’ll trade her for it. That Volkov bastard won’t let his wife be harmed.” Her face flushes with irritation.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The hell you’re bringing down on us?” He steps forward, his hands flexing at his sides. “When Alexander finds out what you’ve done, he won’t rest until he’s killed everyone in this house. Including you.”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to use your big Russian muscles to protect me.” She sneers.

Oleg’s jaw tenses. He looks in my direction, then at the young girl. Hanging his head, he shakes it.

“You’ve been the worst mistake of my life,” he mutters, then snatches the key from her. I step back from the door when he forces the key into the lock.

“Oleg.” I put my hands up to ward him off as he swings the door open.

“What are you doing? You can’t let her go!” Cheryl reaches for the door, but Oleg shoves her back.

“You’re not fucking thinking.” He taps his temple as he rages at her. “The Volkovs aren’t a little fucking problem. If she has so much as a scratch on her when she gets returned to them, they will hunt down everyone associated with the DeAngelo family. Including you. Including me.”

“Then she doesn’t need to be returned,” Cheryl states casually, pulling out a small pistol from the deep pocket of her dress. It fits perfectly in her palm as she aims it at me.

“And how will you get that fucking drive, then?” he demands. “All of this over a damn divorce settlement. This should have been easy. A simple blackmail, but you fucked it all up.”

“Then I’ll fix it. We’ll get rid of her, you’ll take care of my husband, and it’s all done.” She pulls back the hammer, loading the chamber.

I step farther back into my little cell. There’s nowhere to hide in here. Nothing I can use to shield myself from her aim.

“I said I can help. Let me help!” the girl starts yelling. “Leave her alone!”

“This crazy bitch.” Oleg turns just as the girl runs into Cheryl. The gun goes off and a chunk of cement flies past my ear as the bullet lodges in the cinder blocks of the wall behind me.

Cheryl scrambles up to her knees as the young girl reaches for the gun, but Cheryl aims and shoots quickly. The young girl flies back. Blood sprays across my face as she hits the ground inside my cell.

“No!”

“You idiot! You couldn’t stop a little girl?” Cheryl turns her fury on Oleg, but he’s preoccupied.

He’s at the stairwell, listening.

I fall to my knees beside the young girl. The bullet hit her in the neck, and I push my hand over the wound, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. It seeps between my fingers. It feels hopeless.

Pale-blue eyes look up at me, blinking away tears.

“Fuck! Please, help us!” I scream. It can’t end like this for her. Not when she’s so close to getting free of these monsters.

Cheryl stares down at what she’s done and pales.

Oleg curses, looks back at us, then runs up the stairs. Men’s shouts echo when he opens the door at the top. A shot rings out, then another.

“Oh no.” Cheryl looks at the gun in her hand. “No, no, no.” Turning on her designer heels too quickly, she trips a little, catching herself on the wall as she makes her way to the stairs.

More shouts, more shots.

“You’re going to be okay. It’s okay.” I remove my hand from her neck so I can pull off the blouse I bought only hours before. Balling it up, I press it against the wound. “It’s okay.”

I have no idea if I’m right. If she’ll survive this.

She’s so young.

“Please be okay,” I whisper to myself.

“What’s that?” Her voice is strained when she asks as another shot goes off.

I smile down at her as a tear rolls off my cheek.

“He brought an army.”