Page 36

Margot

For thirty minutes, my mind races.

Big city or small town? Do I dye my hair? Cut it? Can you report an adult missing? What do I pack?

I need a plan. I need to think.

But all too soon, I pull into my driveway.

The first thing I see is a black van parked in front of my house. I don’t think anything of it. Just a neighbor using my spot.

I stare at my house.

It’s not fancy. It’s old. Small.

But it’s mine.

Or… it was.

I exhale sharply, pushing away the emotions creeping up my throat. There’s no time for tears.

Benny lets out a sharp, aggressive bark.

I snap back to reality, rubbing my eyes. There’s no time to cry. No time to grieve .

I leave the car running and step out. No one’s going to steal my car the five minutes I’m inside.

I reach the potted plant by my front door, which is now dead and brittle, lift it and grab the spare key. I slide it into the lock and turn the handle.

The door swings open.

It shouldn’t.

It should be locked.

I step inside, and everything stops.

My world tilts.

My furniture is flipped over. My decorations are shattered. My cabinets are hanging off their hinges. There are holes in my fucking walls.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think.

Did someone break in? What happened?

Then realization slams into me.

Matthias. His men. They did this.

What little was left of my heart shatters completely.

I walk to my bedroom, carefully dodging the mess, when I hear footsteps.

Heavy, male footsteps.

Fuck! How did he find me so quickly?

I whip around, heart hammering. My eyes scan for a weapon, but I left my emergency bat by the front door.

A man appears at the entrance of my bedroom. A man I don’t recognize.

“I found you.”

This isn’t one of Matty’s men.

None of them look at me like this.

None of them send such fear through me.

And none of them have Russian accents .

“Get out of my house!” I try to sound strong, but my voice wavers.

“Margot Peterson,” he says smoothly. “We have been looking for you for a long time. My boss wants to talk to you. Come with me.”

“Oh, no thank you. I’m in a hurry, so if you’ll excuse me, please?” I try to squeeze past him, but he lifts an arm, blocking my exit.

“That was not a question. You will come with us.” Then he shouts something in Russian.

Two more men barrel in. I thought Roman was scary, but these men are something else entirely. Not only terrifying, but downright disgusting.

Unkempt. Rotting teeth. Greasy hair. Reeking of sweat.

I try to bolt, but Toothless grabs me.

“Where do you think you are going, shlyukha?” He leans in, breath so foul it churns my stomach.

“Let me go!” I thrash, twisting and jerking wildly. My elbow flies back, catching his ribs. He grunts but doesn’t let go. I drive my foot down onto his instep, grinding my heel into the soft spot in his foot. He howls, his grip loosing just enough for me to rip free.

I make it one step into the living room, then I’m tackled.

Sweaty slams me down, pinning me beneath his disgusting weight.

I fight with everything in me. My nails dig into his face, dragging across the skin, leaving deep scratches that make him hiss.

Toothless grabs my wrists and slams them on the floor, forcing my arms above my head. I kick my legs, twisting and bucking under Sweaty, trying to throw him off. He barely budges .

“The boss will not care if we break in the bitch before we take her, no?”

Malicious laughter surrounds me. My stomach twists violently. Bile burns my throat.

No, no, no.

My panic surges, but so does my fight. I slam my head forward, trying to bash his nose. I jerk my arms, my legs, everything. A crazed, primal scream tears from me.

But their grip is too strong. My fight does no good.

Sweaty yanks at my shirt. The fabric tears exposing my bra. Cold air rushes over my exposed skin. His fingers hook into my waistband, and he yanks my pants down.

I try to kick, but Sweaty sits on my knees, restricting my movement. I try to free my arms, but Toothless only tightens his grip.

I let out one last scream. One last plea.

Then accept defeat.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out. Trying to go somewhere else.

I let my mind drift.

It’s going to be okay, sweet girl.