Page 34 of Sexting the Silverfox Daddy

Cassie

When consciousness slowly crept back, the first thing I felt was bone-chilling cold.

Damp air mixed with mold and rust invaded my nostrils. I forced my eyes open, my vision gradually focusing in the dim light. This was an abandoned warehouse—bare concrete walls surrounded me, and overhead hung a single bulb swaying on its wire, casting weak, eerie light.

I tried to move but found my hands tied tightly behind the chair with rope. Fear trickled down my spine like ice water, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Awake?"

A strange voice emerged from the shadows, dripping with dark pleasure. A man stepped out from the murky corner.

His suit was wrinkled to hell, tie crooked, hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes—looked like he hadn't slept properly in days. But what scared me most were his eyes—they held the kind of madness you see in cornered animals, desperate and wild.

"Cassie Monroe," he walked toward me slowly, lips twisting into a sick smile, "or should I call you the future Mrs. Sokolov?"

My throat was dry as sandpaper. I fought to keep my voice steady, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Me?" He let out a sharp, crazy laugh that bounced off the warehouse walls in harsh echoes. "You don't know who I am? Gennady Sokolov hasn't exactly made my life easy these days."

My heart skipped a beat. It was him—Marco Moretti, the man who'd been trying to kill me!

Cold sweat broke out on my back, but anger overtook fear. "If you want revenge on Gennady, I can't help you. I have nothing to do with the Sokolov Family anymore."

Marco laughed mockingly, leaning closer.

His rancid breath hit my face, eyes blazing with sick excitement.

"You think my guys are blind? Those prenatal vitamins you've been sneaking around buying, your mom rushing here from LA—you're pregnant, aren't you?

With Gennady Sokolov's kid! It's like God's own gift to me! "

My heart stopped, then started pounding like a jackhammer against my ribs.

I forced out a steady breath. Had to stay calm.

"You're wrong," I kept my voice cold. "Gennady only has eyes for Ginnie now. Me? Just used goods he tossed aside. I'm worthless to him."

"Worthless?" Marco exploded into hysterical laughter like I'd hit some crazy switch, laughing until tears streamed down his face. "You think I'm a fucking idiot?! Cassie, sweetheart, you have no idea how much that man values you!"

He crouched in front of me, eyes level with mine, that insane pressure almost suffocating. "You know what your Gennady did to protect you? He ripped out my entire operation by the roots! In one night! My empire that I built for fifteen years—he crushed it like it was nothing!"

Marco's voice shot up, rage and desperation tangling together. "Three locations, attacked simultaneously! My vaults emptied, my men either dead or turned traitor!"

"Gennady Sokolov! That son of a bitch!" he screamed, eyes bloodshot. "He calculated every fucking move! Even that stupid bitch Ginnie's betrayal—he turned it around and used it as a knife in my back! He let her think she'd won, used the intel she spilled to grind me into the dirt!"

His words pierced through my forced calm like ice picks. Ginnie... was part of his plan too? My heart clenched, but I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, couldn't show anything on my face.

"Even so," I pushed down the churning thoughts, deliberately adding mockery to my voice, "just proves he's a better player than you. And me? Just another pawn he used and discarded."

"Besides, we have a blood feud between us."

"Blood feud?" Marco suddenly stopped. He looked at me with this weird expression, then burst into even crazier, sharper laughter than before. "Blood feud? The Victor Sokolov and John Monroe thing?! What a fucking joke! Cassie Monroe, you're so stupid it's almost sad!"

His manic state startled me. I watched him warily.

He abruptly stopped laughing, body shaking violently with excitement, bloodshot eyes boring into mine, burning with the kind of fire that wants to incinerate everything.

"John Monroe, that loyal-as-a-rock second-in-command, he'd die before betraying Victor Sokolov. It was ME who worked so hard to stir up Victor's suspicions, making them turn on each other like dogs! You've been hating the wrong person, you little fool!"

My heart stopped beating. All sound seemed to drain from the world, leaving only Marco's sharp, venomous voice roaring in my ears.

"It was ME!" He beat his chest like a madman eager for credit, or a blasphemer desperate to topple an idol.

"I set him up! I made Victor Sokolov think he'd been betrayed!

I forged the evidence pointing to John Monroe!

Because he was in my way! Because I wanted to watch Victor Sokolov lose everything! "

He lunged closer, spit nearly hitting my face, every word a poisoned dagger stabbing into my heart.

"And Gennady Sokolov, that little bastard gave me plenty of trouble!

But Victor never saw him as human—he was forced to kill or be killed!

His face, full of agony, was the most beautiful art I've ever seen!

How much suffering did he endure to crawl to where he is today?

He thought he'd finally found a little light!

But then? Then you, you fucking idiot! You pushed him back into hell with your own hands!

Look at him now, like a thoroughly enraged, irrational caged beast!

He lost you, thinks he's lost you forever!

Thinks he'll never find redemption! That's better than killing him! This is my perfect revenge!"

Marco's face twisted with extreme excitement and hatred.

"Now, I'm going to make him lose everything completely!

Let him watch his last hope—you and his brat—turn to nothing before his eyes!

Let him taste real despair! I want him on his knees before me, paying the ultimate price for everything he's done! "

Every word hammered into my soul.

His words spun and exploded in my mind! The "truth" that made me leave, the foundation of all my pain and hatred—it all crumbled instantly!

It wasn't him. It was never him! It was this lunatic in front of me! And what had I done?

Massive regret crashed over me like a tsunami, a hundred times worse than the fear Marco brought!

An invisible hand squeezed my heart so hard I couldn't breathe.

I'd misunderstood him! I'd accused him of being cold-blooded, left with his child, wounded him with the most vicious words, pushed him back into the dark abyss, and all of it built on one enormous lie!

Tears burst forth without warning, hot liquid instantly blurring my vision.

Not from the pain in my cheek, but from the heart-rending regret and hatred for my own stupidity!

Broken sobs escaped my throat. I desperately tried to bite my lip to suppress them, but tasted even more blood mixed with bitter tears.

"No, it can't be, you're lying!" I trembled, voice shattered, grasping at one last desperate straw.

Marco savored my breakdown like admiring a perfect artwork, cruel satisfaction on his face. "Lying? Your current agony is the best proof! Enjoy this regret, Cassie, you deserve it! So does Gennady Sokolov! You pathetic creatures can take this pain to hell with you!"

He gave my swollen belly one last sneer, looking at it like a dead thing, then spun around violently. With post-venting rage and determination to destroy everything, he slammed the heavy iron door.

The warehouse fell back into deathly silence, only that swaying bulb casting weak, eerie light.

The pain in my cheek, the rope marks, the scraped wrists—all sensations disappeared.

Only the agony of my heart being repeatedly torn by regret remained, like countless dull knives cutting.

Tears flowed silently, dripping onto the cold, dusty floor.

I was wrong, Gennady. So terribly wrong. I'm sorry!

Massive pain and intense survival instinct created violent conflict in this moment.

But I had to live! Had to make up for this monstrous mistake!

Tears of regret blurred my vision, but a flame stronger than ever before ignited in my heart.

My gaze returned to that rusty ventilation grate.

This time, my eyes held not desperate hope but the resolute light of determination fueled by regret.

Marco had left temporarily. This was my only chance.

Ignoring the burning sensation of rope cutting into my wrists, I began frantically, desperately twisting! The rough hemp rope dug deep into flesh. Every movement brought piercing pain. I could feel warm liquid seeping out along the rope, making it slippery.

Pain got shoved aside. Live! This thought burned like fire in my heart. I gritted my teeth, pouring all my strength and will into my wrists, again and again, not caring about torn skin!

"Baby," I moved my lips silently, as if talking to the tiny life in my belly, sweat mixed with blood dripping from my forehead. "Mommy will get you out of here." This was a promise, all the strength supporting me through the agony.

I don't know how long passed—maybe minutes, maybe a century—the rope on my right wrist suddenly loosened! Huge relief came with sharper stinging pain.

No time to catch my breath. I immediately scanned the dim corners, target clear—the ventilation shaft!

But disappointment hit quickly. From this angle, I could see clearly—behind the vent was a wall, blocking all possibilities.

No, couldn't give up now.

I took a deep breath, rallied my spirit, gaze sweeping the junk pile—a rusty screwdriver about arm's length, half-buried in rags.

Dead silence all around. Only my heavy breathing and wild heartbeat roaring in my ears. Time crawled in the cold air, every second stretching endlessly.

Heart pounding, I fought through the pain, using my freed right hand to quickly untie the already loose rope on my left wrist. My feet were still bound, but I couldn't worry about that.

Curling up like a cat, I moved as silently as possible toward the corner.

Every movement pulled at my wrist wounds, pain making me suck in sharp breaths.

While moving, I seemed to hear extremely vague, indistinct sounds from far away, like muffled impacts through thick walls.

Could be hallucinations. This only made my nerves wind tighter.

Finally reached it! I grabbed that rust-covered screwdriver. The cold, corroded feel and not-too-heavy weight brought an unexpected sense of cruel comfort.

I quickly tucked it up my sleeve to hide it, then dragged my bound feet back to the chair. I carefully hid the screwdriver in the shadows behind me, quickly put my hands behind the chair to fake being tied, cleverly pressing the rope ends under my body. Disguise complete.

Back straight, blood-stained face slightly lowered, hiding the wolf-like viciousness churning in my eyes and the last tremor of fear for the coming storm.

Time crawled by second by second. Absolute silence was more torturous than noise. Just when I almost wondered if I'd been forgotten in this underground cage—

From far away came what sounded like extremely muffled, almost unrecognizable noises. Like heavy objects hitting the ground, or gunshots? Through layers of barriers, so faint they might be hallucinations, but they made the dead air suddenly tighten!

My heart clenched hard! Was someone coming? Or something else? Whether it was Marco returning, Gennady's people, or some other danger—

Whatever it was, I'd look for my chance. I wouldn't be a lamb for slaughter anymore.

My eyes held rock-solid determination.

For our child, for our future, I had to fight to the very last moment.