Page 27

27

Alina

I hear boot sounds before two brutish guards unlock the door silently. One gestures with a slight tilt of his chin. I hesitate, my instinct screaming to resist, but I know better than to provoke them blindly.

My body still aches from the cold floor, from the weight of dread I’ve carried through every sleepless hour. I rise slowly, spine straight, chin up.

They escort me through the dim hallways of the compound, and I catch my reflection in a mirror as we pass—pale skin, sunken eyes, tangled hair. But there’s still fire behind my gaze.

I won’t let them break me.

We stop in front of a double door. One of the men knocks twice before pushing it open.

Mendes.

He’s sitting casually in a leather armchair, drink in hand, as if this is a meeting between friends. There’s a small table beside him and on it—a folded white dress.

My stomach turns.

“Good morning, bride,” he says with a smile that makes my skin crawl.

I don’t answer.

He picks up the dress and stands, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. “Put this on. We’ll be married within the hour. The officiant is on his way.”

I freeze. "No."

He tilts his head. “No?”

“I’m not marrying you.”

The slap is brutal.

Pain explodes across my face, blinding and sharp. My head jerks to the side, and I stumble back, disoriented. Heat blooms across my cheek. I taste blood in my mouth.

I barely catch myself before I hit the ground.

“You’ll learn,” Mendes growls, voice like ice. “You’ll follow orders. You’ll do as you’re told.”

Rage explodes in my skull, and I lunge at him. I claw, kick, and punch. My nails scrape across his neck, my knee drives into his thigh. I hit him wherever I can reach. It’s uncoordinated, untrained, and wild.

Fuck, I should have paid more attention to the training section that my father, and then Viktor insisted on.

He grabs both my wrists, effortlessly spins me around, and slams me onto a bed in the corner. He towers over me, breathing heavier now, his expression dark.

“You want to fight?” he mutters. “Then I’ll show you what happens to fighters.”

He’s on me before I can move.

The weight of his body pins me down, one knee pressing between my thighs, his hands wrapping around my wrists and forcing them into the mattress above my head. The air is yanked from my lungs. I squirm, but it’s useless—he’s stronger, bigger. Merciless.

His breath is hot and rancid against my cheek.

Terror floods me. A cold, sinking dread that begins in the pit of my stomach and spreads like venom through my veins. My heart pounds against my ribcage, and my ears are filled with thunder.

He leans in closer, so close I can feel the humidity of his breath when he whispers, “I was going to wait. Out of respect for your brother. Until the vows were said.”

His mouth is at my ear now. “But you’ve got fire in you, Alina. Maybe you’re ready. Maybe now’s the time to start fulfilling your duties as my wife.”

His free hand skims down my side, and I go cold—colder than I’ve ever felt in my life.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My body freezes beneath him, locked in a cage of horror.

“I think it’s time,” he says softly, as if this is something romantic, and sacred. “Time to put a baby in you.”

A sound rips from my throat. A desperate, shattered noise I don’t even recognize as mine.

Panic surges violently.

I twist beneath him, fighting with everything I have left. “No! Please—no!”

My voice is hoarse. My lungs feel like they’re tearing open. I can feel my heartbeat in my skull.

Not like this. Not here. Not him.

Tears burn down my cheeks. My pride crumbles, replaced by survival. By desperation.

“Please,” I sob. “I’m pregnant. I’m already pregnant.”

He stills.

My chest heaves.

“I’m married,” I gasp. “That’s why the arranged marriage was called off. I eloped. I’m carrying his baby.”

For a long moment, he just stares at me.

And I lie there, trembling beneath him, praying he believes it.

Then he blinks.

“You’re lying,” he says, but his voice has lost some of its edge. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

I hold his gaze, drawing every ounce of strength I have to keep my face steady.

“I’m not,” I whisper. “We married in secret. It’s why no one knows. We eloped. That’s why….. that’s why my engagement was canceled.”

Mendes narrows his eyes, searching my face. “I still don’t believe you.”

I try to school my face as I lie. “You are a member of the Cartel, I’m sure a few phone calls will confirm what I just said.”

He pulls back slowly and stares down at me for a long, unnerving moment. Then he picks up his phone and dials. “Change of plans,” he says. “Don’t come. Not today.” He hangs up.

Hope flickers within me, but it is short-lived as he makes another call. “Doctor Henaro?" He says into the device, but his eyes are still pinned on mine. “Get over here now! And bring what you need to run a pregnancy test.”

He ends the call with a glint in his eyes and his lips curling into a cruel smile. “If you’re lying, you’ll wish I hadn’t believed you.”

He turns and walks out, the door locking behind him. I collapse back against the bed, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My hands shake as I press them against my belly.

My body doesn’t move right away. I stay there, frozen on the edge of the bed, as if any sudden motion might shatter the fragile illusion that I bought myself time.

But it was just time. Not safety.

My heart pounds so hard I think it might break through my ribs. I press a trembling hand over my stomach, trying to shield the tiny life inside me from the terror swirling in my veins.

My baby. My baby.

This isn’t just about me anymore.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm the storm inside me. It doesn’t work.

How long do I have? How long before the doctor shows up with needles and lies and a truth that might save me—or doom me?

What if Mendes doesn’t believe the test? What if he doesn’t care that I’m pregnant? What if this was just a delay to make what he does next feel... justified?

I press harder against my belly. As if I can shield my child from all the evil in the world with just my touch.

Tears sting behind my eyes, but don’t fall. I’ve already cried enough for a lifetime.

Now, I plan.

Now, I survive.

Please, God. Let Viktor find me. Let Lev—no. I can’t think about Lev. He has already made his choice.