Page 16 of The Billionaire’s Siren (S.E. Smith Signature Romance: Heart & Soul #1)

She leaned forward slowly, peering beneath the edge of the mattress—and there, barely visible, was a jagged shard of glass.

Her pulse kicked like a drumbeat.

Glass. From the window above…

She stretched her fingers, straining, desperate—until her fingertips brushed the edge. Closer. Closer?—

Yes!

Carefully, she wrapped the shard in her skirt to dull the edge, twisted her wrist, and began sawing at the strap attached to the pipe.

The sound was almost imperceptible, but her breath came in broken sobs.

Her fingers slipped more than once. Blood coated the glass. The strap stretched, groaned, resisted.

She didn’t dare stop.

Minutes passed before the strap loosened, and her arm fell free.

She whimpered, clutching her wrist. Her fingers were numb, tingling with returning sensation.

You don’t have time to rest, Dani. Get free! she told herself.

She turned her attention to the strap binding her ankles. Her hands were shaking now, the glass slipping in her slick grip, but she sawed through it, frantic, every second filled with the creeping dread that Zayan might return before she was free.

Snap .

Her ankles separated. She twisted to her knees, her legs weak and trembling, before she pushed up with a grunt until she stood.

The room spun, and she was forced to reach out. She held onto the wall until the world fell back onto its axis .

But she was up.

Still clutching the jagged glass, she stumbled into the far corner, crouched low, pulled her panties down, and relieved herself with a shuddering sigh of relief. The act felt shameful, but also defiant. She yanked her panties back up.

She was still in control. And now, she had a fighting chance. She breathed deeply, remembering all the lessons her grandfather had insisted she do in case something like this ever happened and he wasn’t around to help her.

Pulling her skirt up, she ripped a strip from the hem and wound around the base of the glass shard, creating a crude handle. Her fingers throbbed with pain, but she didn’t let go.

She wouldn’t get a second chance. Her gaze flew to the door.

If he opened it and saw her standing—saw the straps broken—he would attack immediately. If he had a gun, it would be over before she could defend herself. She remembered the strength of his arms when he grabbed her on the trawler. He was stronger than he had been as a boy.

No, the only way she could defeat him was to take him by surprise—and not be afraid to do whatever was necessary for her to survive.

Her head whipped around, her eyes scanning the room for an idea. A plan.

Nothing. Nowhere to hide.

Then—her gaze snapped to the plastic straps.

She slowly walked back to the mattress, her heart hammering. Every cell in her body rebelled at the idea of sitting back down, pretending to be defenseless again. The terror was so strong she wasn’t sure she could do it. She wanted to throw up.

“You can do this,” she whispered fiercely, willing her body to obey. “You have to.”

She twisted until she was sitting back down where she had been before.

With quivering fingers, she picked up the broken ankle strap and placed it back over her ankles as if it had never been cut.

Once satisfied Zayan wouldn’t be able to tell it had been sliced unless he really looked, she fumbled to slide her raw, bleeding wrist back through the one still hanging from the pipe.

It hung too loosely—but maybe it would be enough to trick him.

The sound of footsteps coming down the corridor made her heart hammer in her chest. She tucked the glass shard under her skirt, hidden in the folds.

Her lungs burned as she waited.

“Please, give me strength. Please let me get away from him,” she whispered, bowing her head and trying to control her breathing.

The footsteps stopped.

Her shivering increased as the click of the lock echoed through her head. She bit her sore lip, watching with growing anxiety as the doorknob turned.

The door creaked.

She dropped her head, letting her hair fall forward over her face.

He took another step toward her, slow and deliberate. The floor creaked beneath his feet.

She didn’t want to look up, but she did.

Zayan.

This time, he wasn’t wearing a mask.

She felt his eyes on her—hungry, cruel.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice thick with malice, “Now we finish what you denied me four years ago, my sweet, Dani.”

Paralyzed by fear, her whole body shook, a silent scream trapped in her throat.

“It’s time to pay up.”

He stepped closer. Her heart beat so loud she was afraid he could hear it.

“What? Nothing to say? You had plenty to say the last time we were together. You said so much that I was run out of Morocco! Each port, your poor, pitiful cries of how I would fleece unsuspecting young tourists out of their innocence and their families out of their money bit at my heels until I could find no one to seduce. I had to work— work like a dog— in low-paying jobs that took my looks from me! But, now… now, it is time to repay me for what you have taken. I’ ll take everything from you—your body, your boyfriend’s money, your beauty.

Then, it will be women like you who will try to seduce me instead, yes? ”

He reached out to caress her bruised cheek. He chuckled when she jerked her head back. Her eyes flashed a warning for him to keep his hands off her.

“But, I’m sure by now… you’re not so innocent anymore.” His voice turned mocking. “Such a shame. I could have been your first.” He leaned forward, his putrid breath making her want to gag, and whispered in her ear. “But, I promise I will be your last.”

“Go to hell,” she whispered, her hand tightening on her makeshift knife as he straightened.

She swallowed when he reached down, gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Her stomach churned.

He wasn’t going to let her leave—no matter what Alexandros paid. She knew it now, with a certainty that chilled her soul.

Her fingers tightened around the glass, the ragged edge digging into her palm.

The scream built in her throat.

She didn’t dare let it out.

Not yet.

Not until the right moment.

Zayan was three steps away when he froze, staring at the wall above her head. She looked up, seeing what he saw. A perfect, bloody handprint. A frown creased his face.

His gaze narrowed. A flicker of suspicion. Too late.

She knew that her time was up when his gaze slowly turned towards her.

Bruised. Bloodied. But not broken?—

Dani surged up like a demon from hell.