Page 67 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Fifty-Six

Scarlett

A cold blast of air hit my skin, and my head rolled on my shoulders. Loud voices filtered through as I came to.

“Are you sure it’s her?” one said.

“Yes, there’s a semi-healed bullet wound at her side,” another replied, closer this time.

I groaned, my body aching from the awkward position. I tried to stretch my stiff limbs, but they wouldn’t move. Panic flickered in my chest. My arms were pinned behind me, wrists bound, and my legs were tied at the ankles. Rope, from the scratch of it.

I blinked rapidly, forcing my eyes to focus.

A single overhead bulb swung above me, casting long shadows that sliced through the gloom.

The air smelled like oil and mildew—like an old warehouse.

I shivered at the chill in the room. They’d undressed me.

I was in nothing but a bra and panties. I wasn’t sore besides where my hands and feet were tied together so I didn’t think they’d raped me but I couldn’t be too sure.

My eyes flicked around the room as I looked for a way out. I didn’t know where the men were, and I wasn’t so sure I could beat them like I was. How long had I been out?

My heartbeat thudded loudly in my ears, drowning out the hum of the light overhead. I shifted in the chair, testing every angle. My skin burned where the ropes bit into my wrists and ankles, but there was no give. I wasn’t getting out of this without help or a miracle.

“Should we call him?” one of the men asked from somewhere behind me.

“No, we will see what she knows first before we call him in,” the other man said.

One of them came around me and leered. He was covered in tattoos and had an oversized hoodie covering most of the top of his face. His jeans were ripped and dirty, and his shoes looked like they’d seen better days.

I licked my cracked lips. “You’re making a mistake,” I said, my voice low but steady. “Whatever you think I know, it’s not worth what he’ll do to you when he finds me.” I knew Dimitri would find me, but would I still be alive when he did?

A pause.

Loud and ugly laughter met my ears. “You think that city council pretty boy is gonna save you?” the younger one cackled.

They obviously didn’t know much about Dimitri Cristof. I knew enough from whispers that he wasn’t one to be messed with, which was funny considering I was the first to do so.

The older man stepped into view. Scarred face, buzzed hair, dead eyes. “You’re not the first girl to think a man would come.”

“No,” I said, slowly lifting my head. “But I’m the last one who’ll make you regret underestimating her.”

He didn’t like that. He raised a hand, and I braced myself—but another voice cut through the room—deep and measured.

“Enough.” Everything went still.

The scarred man lowered his hand and stepped back into the shadows as a third figure approached, footsteps slow and deliberate. When he stepped from the shadows and into the light, my heart stopped beating in my chest.

Sinclair Cristof. He smiled down at me. “Where are my drives? I guess it would be safe to assume that you also stole from Gavin. He had a few files go missing, as well.”

How had he found me? My mind went 90 to nothing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’d never been tortured before, but I also knew that this man wasn’t one to get his hands dirty. He’d used his own sons to do that.

He clicked his tongue. “Lying already, Scarlett? Tsk. And here I was hoping we could have an honest conversation.”

He stepped closer, inspecting me like I was something fascinating under glass.

“You’ve made quite the mess in a very short amount of time.

I must say… Dimitri’s taste has improved.

And here I thought his last one was his weakness.

” He crouched to eye level, and I fought the urge to flinch.

“But you… you’re dangerous, aren’t you?”

I kept my expression neutral, but my body trembled with the effort. Not from fear—no, not that. From fury.

He straightened, adjusted his cufflinks. “I won’t ask again. Where are the drives? And don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw the footage of you leaving the building beside mine—sans wig.” His smile was thin.

That’s what did me in. My bright hair minus the wig. If only I’d kept it on. Maybe he wouldn’t have found me.

“You came all this way for some missing files?” I tilted my head, feigning boredom. “Bit beneath you, isn’t it?”

His eyes darkened, but his tone stayed smooth. “When they’re the kind of files that could ruin empires? No. Nothing is beneath me.”

I forced a smile, despite the pounding of my pulse. “That’s funny… that’s exactly how I feel about burning yours to the ground.”

That was when he punched me in the stomach.

Not hard. Not enough to knock me backwards. But enough to knock the breath out of me.

“You’re not as clever as you think,” he said coldly. “But I do love a challenge.”

He turned to the scarred man. “Bring her somewhere quiet. I’ll deal with her myself once Dimitri is finished brooding. I don’t want him finding her.”

“Are you going to kill me?” I didn’t know why it mattered at this point. He had the upper hand.

He turned and looked at me over his shoulder. “Kill you?” He laughed. “No. I have some high-paying clients that would love nothing more than to break you.”

Rough hands grabbed my shoulders and ripped me up from the chair. I didn’t bother with fighting back. I didn’t try to escape. I hung limply as they dragged me from the room.

The hallway was dim, lit by flickering overhead lights. My bare feet scraped against cold concrete as the scarred man dragged me forward, one of his companions trailing behind with a gun held low but ready. I kept my head bowed, my body slack.

Sinclair had made a mistake.

He thought breaking me would be simple. That selling me off like some prize to his monsters-for-hire would make me fold.

He didn’t understand that I’d already lived through hell once.

That I’d clawed my way out of Vanewood’s pit with blood in my mouth and rage in my bones. I sure as shit wasn’t going back.

As the man hauling me forward fumbled with a keypad on a reinforced steel door, I glanced down—just long enough to clock the knife tucked into the inside of his boot. Hope bloomed in my blood.