Page 132 of Scarlet Vows

The alarm bells start to clang louder.

He keeps going, dragging me, his fingers biting into my arm as we go through another door, down a flight of stairs, and into a big, empty basement.

There’s no one else here.

No Melor.

No Ilya.

This is all a ruse, and I’m an idiot.

I make myself go soft and limp as he drags me farther in.

The moment he lets me go, turning, I run, darting past him, heading for the stairs.

He grabs me and hurls me into a wall.

Pain blooms everywhere. He kicks me, and when I crumple to the floor, he presses the heel of his boot against my neck.

“Stay down,” he says in Russian. “Do what I say, and you won’t get hurt.”

He lifts his foot.

I don’t believe him.

I haul myself to my feet again and hold my hands up, trying to appear small.

I look at him, shaking. “Please,” I beg, “don’t hurt me.”

If I play it weak and pathetic, he’ll be caught off guard when I run again. Hide. If I can, I’ll get in that car, drive away, and never look back.

“P-please…” I whimper. “I’ll give you anything…”

He mutters something horrible about women under his breath in Russian and moves closer, presumably to shove me away from the door. Or to hurt me. Or worse.

I wait.

He takes one more step.

Close enough.

I lunge and grab him, kneeing him in the balls as hard as I can. Then I reach down, grab his junk, and viciously twist.

He grunts and then cries out, stumbling away. I run as fast as I can, but something explodes. A bullet hits brick ahead of me, sending debris flying.

I scream and duck but don’t stop.

But he’s on me. I slam hard into the ground.

Radimir twists a hand in my hair and yanks my head up, the warm muzzle of the gun against my temple. “Bitch.”

Shaking, he drags me up.

Someone else comes down the steps.

“Stupid little bitch,” the man says.

I don’t know him. He’s bigger, older, angrier than Radimir.