“I… I was teaching the bitch a lesson,” the guard tries to explain, but his tone falters.
“She’s not your bitch to teach,” Eagle Tattoo rumbles. “Now get out. The lot of you.”
The men hesitate and Eagle Tattoo glowers furiously at them.
“Get the fuck out of here before I blow your brains out!” he bellows. “My orders have come from Budimir himself.”
There’s only a moment’s hesitation before all four men exit the room. When the door snaps closed, Eagle Tattoo walks over to me, his eyes roving from my face to my breasts.
“Did he touch you?” he asks. He almost sounds concerned.
“He slapped me.”
“Did he try to rape you?” he asks.
I still, feeling a sense of dread overtake me. This is not an innocent line of questioning. Not by any means.
“Answer me.”
“He tried to convince me to have sex with him,” I say softly.
“Well, who can blame him?” Eagle Tattoo smiles, and for a moment it actually feels like he’s trying to flirt with me. “Artem’s a lucky motherfucker. No wonder he got you pregnant so fast.”
I look down at Phoenix, who’s whimpering a little in my arms, but he’s stopped crying. It’s almost as though he realizes that crying won’t help us now.
“Please,” I say. “Please, just let me and my son go.”
He laughs. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
“He’s only a baby.”
“Exactly,” he agrees. “He’s only been in your life a short time.”
Those words send my mind into new echelons of panic. I grip Phoenix a little tighter.
“My husband—”
“Your husband is dead,” he snaps. “There’s no one left to rescue you. It’s just you and the boss. But before that… it’s just you and me.”
I can sense where he’s leading me. My body seems to resign itself to the inevitability to what’s about to happen.
I can feel it giving way—giving up hope, giving up the fight.
I have escaped this horror countless times now. Artem saved me once.
Will he be here to save me again?
I can’t believe he’s dead. But even so, it feels like there’s no way out.
And a part of me no longer cares. Because I know now that I will endure anything—if it means my son will be safe.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” I say suddenly. “And I’ll do it willingly. Just please… don’t hurt my son.”
Do I believe my own words? In the moment, they feel sincere, but I’m not sure anymore.
I don’t feel like myself. I feel like a trapped and desperate woman who will try anything to save her son.
That is exactly what I am.