Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
My legs, numb from being bound for so long, crumpled beneath me when they tried to stand me up.
I crashed to the ground, sharp gravel digging into my bare knees, arms, and face, since I couldn't catch myself.
Someone pulled me up onto my knees and yanked the blanket off my head. The sudden flood of moonlight was blinding after hours in darkness. I blinked rapidly, tears streaming from my light-sensitive eyes, as the world slowly came into focus.
And then I saw them.
My father stood over me, his face a mask of cold contempt. Beside him, my brother Matvey leaned against the car, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me with the detached interest of someone observing an insect.
"No," I whispered, disbelief warring with horror. "You—"
"Took you long enough to figure it out," Matvey sneered, pushing off from the car. "Still as stupid as ever."
I looked around wildly, trying to place where they had brought me. Trees surrounded us on all sides, their branches skeletal against the night sky. A dirt road stretched behind the car, disappearing into darkness. The only light came from the half-moon above and the car's headlights, illuminating an old hunting cabin twenty yards ahead.
My brother grabbed my uninjured arm, hauling me to my feet, before slicing through the bindings around my ankles. My legs trembled, threatening to give out again. The zip ties had cut so deeply into my wrists that blood trickled down my fingers, dripping onto the ground.
"Why?" I managed, my voice cracking. "Why did you—"
"Because it's time you finally served your purpose," my father said, checking his watch with a scowl. "We're late. Ivanov won't be pleased."
"Ivanov?" The name meant nothing to me, but the way my father said it with a mixture of deference and fear made my stomach clench.
Matvey's fingers dug into my arm as he dragged me toward the cabin. "Artem Ivanov, a very important man in the bratva. Very rich. Very powerful. You're our ticket in."
"You're selling me," I said, the horrific truth crystallizing. "Like property."
"Like the ungrateful burden you've always been," my father corrected, following behind us. "For two years we've let you waste your time at college. Now you'll finally be useful."
Something broke open inside me. Rage, boiling up through the fear. I dug my heels into the ground, wrenching my arm from Matvey's grasp with a strength born of desperation.
I turned to run, knowing it was futile, knowing there was nowhere to go in these woods, but driven by pure animal instinct to flee.
I made it three steps before Matvey caught me by the hair, yanking me backward with such force that strands ripped from my scalp.
"You always were dramatic," he hissed in my ear, his arm snaking around my throat in a chokehold. "Just like Mother."
The mention of her—so casual, so cruel—sent a fresh wave of sorrow and rage through me. I twisted in his grip and spat directly in his face, a mixture of saliva and blood splattering across his cheek.
His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with fury. Before he could react, my father stepped forward and struck me across the face with an open palm. The blow was so hard, my head snapped to the side, my vision blurring.
My father grabbed my jaw, fingers digging into the flesh with bruising force, forcing me to look at him. His eyes, so similar to my own, were devoid of anything resembling paternal love.
"Listen carefully, Viktoria," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You will do whatever Artem Ivanov demands of you. You will not disgrace this family." His fingers tightened until I whimpered. "Or I will finish what I started when you were sixteen."
Ice flooded my veins.
The basement.
The darkness that lasted for days.
"Do you understand me?" he asked, giving my face a shake.
I said nothing, refusing to give him the satisfaction. My silence earned me another slap, this one splitting my lip. Blood dripped down my chin onto my T-shirt, staining the white fabric crimson.
"Answer me!" he roared.
"Yes," I whispered, the word tasting like surrender.
"Good." He released my face with a shove. "Get her cleaned up," he instructed Matvey. "Ivanov will be here within the hour, and I won't have him thinking I can't control my own daughter."
Matvey nodded, grabbing my arm again and pulling me toward the cabin. As we approached, I could see it was more dilapidated than it had first appeared, the windows boarded up, the porch sagging, the wood weathered gray by years of neglect.
"Where are we?" I asked, my voice raw.
"Nowhere anyone will find you," Matvey replied, kicking open the door with his boot.
The interior of the cabin was dark and musty, smelling of mold and something else, something metallic and familiar. Blood. The realization came as Matvey flicked on a battery-powered lantern, illuminating the single room.
A mattress lay in one corner, stained with rust-colored patches I didn't want to identify. A wooden chair stood in the center, with rope coiled neatly beside it. A bucket in another corner. Nothing else except dust and cobwebs.