Page 95

CHARLOTTE

T he door swings open, and my instinct is to lunge at him. Before my feet leave the ground, I come to a halt, staring at the detonator in his hand.

“Out,” he commands.

“Now!” he screams, and I jolt back.

Doing as he says, I need to waste time, drag this out long enough to be rescued if I can’t find myself an opening.

So I slowly make my way to the doors and drop onto the ground; as I do, two men grab my arms, holding me tightly in place.

“Tie her wrists and make sure she can’t get out,” he tells his men.

They force me to my knees on the dirt, and I pull up my nose as the foul pig smell assaults me. Yanking my arms behind my back, I hiss through the pain as the rough rope cuts into my wrists.

I kick my legs into the floor as they drag me away from the van, and they hold me still once I’m upright.

Vlad’s hands connect to my ribs, and I cry out.

“I love it when you fight me,” he whispers, and I shiver.

“Fuck. You.” I spit in his face.

He harshly grips the back of my neck and presses a gun to my temple as his men head off into the barn before us.

“Walk,” he hisses.

So I do, taking the smallest steps I can.

“The longer it takes, the longer your friend suffers.” That menacing tone in his voice makes me come to a halt.

“Friend?”

“Patience, princess. It’s a surprise, just so you don’t feel lonely.”

I close my eyes, and my heart sinks.

Drago.

That’s why he wasn’t at the meet. Why we couldn’t contact him.

He shoves me through the first set of wooden double doors, filled with haystacks and wooden poles. Making a sharp right, with force he pushes me into the next room so hard I fall on my face into the straw.

“Dumb bitch, get up,” he yells, grabbing my ponytail and yanking me to my feet.

“Look who it is,” he whispers, his breath hitting my cheek, and my nose wrinkles.

I tip my chin up, and tears burn in my eyes as I look across the room.

I hardly recognize Drago, blood pours from his face, all bruised and swollen. He’s chained by his wrists and ankles, spread out, between two poles.

“Fuck!” he groans as one of Vlad's men lays his fist into his ribs.

“Let him go, Vlad. You have me.” It’s worth a shot.

Vlad chuckles, spinning me to face him and grabbing my neck.

“What, so he can help you escape from me again? You think I don’t know. I’ve had quite the revelation these past couple of weeks.”

“Tatiana will kill you for this. Drago hasn’t done anything wrong,” I lie, testing to see if my theory is correct.

He squeezes my windpipe harder and lifts me off the ground.

“If I kill him, she won’t know a damn thing. Because you’ll be dead too. And guess who will be getting the blame? Or perhaps I’ll force you to kill him as punishment.” He wiggles his finger in my face.

“I won’t do it.” I pull my head back and launch it into his nose.

“Bitch.”

He tosses me to the ground; as he swings back his boot, I instinctively brace for the impact into my ribs.

I scream out in pain as he connects his foot.

“You don’t have to. But now that I've said it, I like the sound of that. Maybe after our games. Get up. Whore.” His spit connects to my cheek.

Pain radiates through my torso and the wind is kicked out of me. Each breath in is agonizing.

Hooking my legs back, I tense my body, rolling and sitting myself upright onto my knees, and manage to get up one leg at a time.

His fingers dig into my shoulder as he drags me towards a beam in the center of the room, facing Drago.

“Back against it.” He points to the beam, and I shuffle back until I hit against the splintering wood.

Drago looks up at me, blood dripping down his face.

“Be brave,” he mouths, and I nod.

Vlad gets to work tying rope around my middle so tightly I yelp. Even through my thin jacket, it burns through. He starts at my waist and goes all the way up to my biceps, my wrists still bound behind my back.

“That feel comfortable? Bet you wish you could have the chains back from the bed. That must seem like heaven in comparison,” Vlad mutters, and I bite my tongue.

“Any time I’m in your presence is hell,” I tell him.

“I’m just preparing you for where you’re heading. You belong in hell. You aren’t worthy of anything else.” His dark eyes bore into mine, and he smirks.

“If you had just behaved and not been a whore, we could have lived a nice life. Your dad would still be alive. Maybe we could have had a kid. Some dogs? But no. You had to spoil it.”

“I would have never. I am not yours, and I never will be.”

My head flies to the side as his hand connects with my cheek.

“You will always be mine, printessa,” he hisses.

I shake my head.

“You’ve abused me in every way possible for ten fucking years. Do you honestly believe there is anything left you can do to me that would actually hurt? Kill me? Fine. End this nightmare. But just know, even in my death, that isn’t the end, that is the beginning of your purgatory. And that, asshole, will be worse than anything you could ever do to me. I’m not alone in this world anymore. You think you’re evil? You have no idea how bad he is. The man who truly owns every single part of me. You are not the devil. He is. And I’ll be happy to burn in hell knowing you’ll be following me soon. Then, I’ll torture you just like you have me for eternity.” I’m almost breathless as I finish my speech.

“You think he gives a shit now he’s got his daughter back? Why would he want a useless mother like you back to fuck her up? He is a clever man, he won’t start a war for you. Worthless. Bitch.”

His words hurt worse than anything else he could do to me.

I would die for my daughter. I’ve done everything I could under the circumstances. Yet, that guilt eats away at me every day.

Could I have been a better mom?

Did I really do everything to protect her?

Would she really be better off without me?

A tear rolls down my cheek. I wish I could wipe it away. Just how I wish I could cleanse myself of my sins.

Be the mom that she truly deserves.

Not this monster constantly fighting to survive.

“Ah, interesting. My words hurt you, don’t they? Your little soft spot.”

Drago cries out, and I look over, and my eyes close, feeling his pain.

“Oh, and watching people you love get hurt. You’re giving yourself away, Charlotte. Having Isabella made you weak.”

It made me weak so I could open my heart, and I will never feel guilty about that.

Vlad’s eyes darken as he backs away from me towards the shelves on the wall.

“What do you think, princess, would this hurt?”

He picks up a carving knife and runs his finger along the flat edge of the blade.

I keep silent.

“Come on, play the game. Would this hurt?”

“Yes! You fucking know it will,” I shout.

He laughs, and my anger continues to brew. I expect him to walk back towards me, but instead, his sights shift to Drago.

I can’t look.

The sound of fabric ripping fills the empty barn.

“Charlotte, it’s no fun you looking at the floor, is it? Come on, eyes on your husband. Watch how good I am at slicing up meat. That’s why I got the farm. To practice.”

I feel physically sick.

Drago’s nostrils flare as Vlad slowly draws the knife from between his pecs, all the way down to his belly button.

A trail of blood follows the silver.

Drago hisses, his face reddening. If he could get out of those chains, he would stomp Vlad into the ground.

He’s bigger and stronger than him, and far more trained.

How the hell did he land up here?

“You’re a fucking asshole, Vlad. You will pay for this,” Drago warns, his eyes full of fury.

“By who? Huh? I answer to no one,” Vlad replies smugly.

“Your sister. You, like all of us, are under her control. You can’t deny it. You are nothing compared to her.”

It’s Drago’s turn to smirk.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it? Asshole. Once Tatiana finds out the truth, you’ll be a dead man. I should have told her years ago.”

A growl erupts from Vlad’s chest, and he fires his fist into Drago’s gut, eliciting an agonizing cry from Drago.

“So does my fist,” Vlad spits back and backs away.

As Vlad’s phone rings, he huffs and pulls it out of his pants pocket, his eyebrow twitching before he cuts it off.

It starts again immediately, and he shoves it back in his pocket, spinning to face me.

“Your turn, wife.” He waves the knife in the air, and my body starts to shake.

I let out a hiss of air as he runs it along my jaw and settles it against my throat.

“Beg for your life.”

I shake my head.

“No.”

“Beg!” he screams in my face, his saliva coating my skin.

“Beg you, bitch! Beg for my mercy. Beg to become my whore. Tell me you belong to me. Tell me how fucking sorry you are.”

My heart almost beats out of my ribs, his words cutting into me.

“Why? Why do you even want me, Vlad? Why not get a woman who doesn’t find you repulsive?”

I doubt she exists. The man has the personality of a brick wall.

“Because we’re married. I chose you, and I will never let you go.” He presses the blade harder against my skin, and I swallow.

I have to kill time.

“Please don’t kill me,” I whisper.

He leans in closer, and I wince.

“Louder.”

“Please, Vlad. Let me live. I don’t want to die,” I say louder.

“Keep going.”

He runs the blade down my throat and shivers run down my spine.

“I.”

I can’t say it. It’s not true in my heart. It never was.

“You, what?” he pushes.

“I belong to you.”

The words are acid on my tongue, choking me. But it works, he removes the knife and grips my cheeks, making my lips pout.

“That’s my good little wife.”

He presses his lips against mine, almost suffocating me.

“I can’t wait to taste the rest of you, one last time,” he whispers against my lips, and I want to scream.

I want to lodge that blade through his heart.