Page 47 of Reign of a Billionaire

I’d seen too much death. Too much pain. In my past. In my present. I couldn’t bear to think of a future that went on in this way. I’d been trying to make a difference, but instead I felt as if I’d lost myself. In bloodlust. Revenge. Hatred.

I shook my head, chasing all the ghosts away. I wasn’t ready to deal with them. Not now. Not here.

“Hey, babe. You look like you need a man to warm you up tonight.”

I ignored the shrewd comment. Men were pigs, thinking they could spin some lame line and get laid.

I continued on, my tennis shoes silent against the pavement. As I moved through the crowd of people, I had only one thing on my mind: escape. I needed to get to my car and leave this sick city behind. The street finally quieted down, but the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I looked around frantically. I spotted my car, and my step faltered.

I didn’t park my rental all the way back here. It was a basic rule of safety—never put yourself in a position where you might be cornered.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the dark sky and exhaled. I needed to get back to Russia before my mother noticed I was gone. Christmas was days away and she never missed a holiday—no matter what crisis was unfolding in the world.

I started walking, my steps hasty and my senses vigilant, keeping my eyes on my surroundings. It was as silent as a graveyard.

I was in a full jog when I heard an eerie sound.Beep.Beep.Beep.

It was faint, but it might as well have been church bells. My gaze traveled over the car, realization forming in the pit of my stomach. Without wasting a breath, I turned to run back.

But it was too late.

The ground beneath my feet rumbled. Heat seared my spine, and I fell to the ground with plaster and debris falling all around me. My face smashed into the hard pavement, knocking the breath out of me. I gasped, attempting to roll onto my back, when I felt a thud at my temple.

Then it all went black.

Chapter 24

Liana

“Is that her?” I heard a man mutter. “If it’s not, Perez will have our balls. Santiago doesn’t give a shit as long as it has a pussy.”

“It’s her.” A chuckle filled the darkness, making my heart gallop. “If it isn’t, I’m fucking keeping her.”

My eyes fluttered open, my tongue heavy in my mouth. I attempted to move, but found myself unable to. A cold sweat broke out across my skin as I was dragged toward a car, each movement causing my flesh to burn.

The fuckers sedated me.

In the next second, I was thrown onto a hard leather seat. The car pulled out and sped down the road, jostling me around on the back seat. A sharp turn had me rolling onto the floor, and a shooting pain exploded in my skull. Clearly they didn’t care whether I made it to where we were going in one piece.

“Sofia Volkov will bring out the big guns when she learns another of her daughters has been taken.”

I attempted to thrash, move, but it was futile. I had to settle down; I refused to let terror overwhelm me. If I did, I’d spiral.

Taking a deep breath in, I exhaled, focusing on slowing my heartbeat. Was this my end? No, it couldn’t be. I still had so much to resolve. There were still things I didn’t understand. My thoughts flitted to the man who’d been infiltrating my dreams. The faceless man. The similarities I found between Kingston Ashford and a ghost that kept hiding from me.

I had to survive this and get to the bottom of who and what Kingston Ashford was and why he bore similarities to the faceless man.

The car came to a sudden stop, halting all my thoughts and jolting me back into my body. The back door opened, and a set of strong hands scooped me off the floor. I peeked through my eyelashes and my breath caught. The hand wrapped around my waist had a skull tattoo on it. The very same one as the head of the Tijuana cartel.

The driver muttered a curse, then gritted, “Your uncle said to bring her to him. He and Cortes have an understanding.”

“That’s null and void.” The grave, vaguely familiar voice belonged to a beast of a man who threw me over his shoulder and started walking. It wasn’t long before he ascended the stairs. Nausea rippled through my insides—I’d never been able to tolerate drugs well.

Suddenly, the man holding me like a sack of potatoes stopped, took a left, and entered a room, throwing me onto the bed. My body bounced off the soft mattress, and Ihatedthat I was so weak. I needed to find a way to shake the fog off.

My flesh crawled at the thought of him—anyone—touching me. I tried to roll off the bed, but this damn weakness refused to give way. I swore to God, if he touched me, I’d slit his throat.

“Relax, I have no intention of touching you.”