Kian
I try pulling against the cuffs again, but it’s no use. They’re built to withstand struggle.
I’m furious. At Renata, of course—but mostly at myself. My own stupidity is what has led me here. Chained to my own fucking bed by the seductive siren who’d convinced me that she genuinely cared.
There’s a part of me that believes the whole thing wasn’t a ruse, but I’m not sure whether I can trust that instinct in light of my current predicament.
“Fuck me,” I growl to the empty room.
I don’t know what her plan is, but I can guess. I’m fairly certain she won’t leave Drago behind. Quite apart from the sick sense of obligation she seems to feel for the asshole, she’ll want answers. I’d seen that much on her face when I’d revealed to her the truth about her mother.
But then what? There’s no way she’ll be able to breach the fucking main gates. My men are posted at every entrance. The vehicles are locked. She has no way to get out.
My eyes fall on my pants, which are discarded to the side of the bed about five feet away from me. I stretch my body out in an attempt to reach them, but the cuffs hold me back.
“Fuck,” I hiss again.
If I can only get to my fucking pants, I have a multi-tool knife tucked away in one of the pockets. If I can get my hands on it, then I may be able to cut myself free.
It’s the only plan left at my disposal. I might starve to death by the time someone dares to look for me down here.
After several strained minutes, I manage to catch the cuff of my pants between two toes. Then I haul it forward within reach.
“Fuck yes,” I sigh with relief.
With a flip of my foot, I toss the pants up to where my hands can get to them. My fingers rustle through the fabric and close around the cold metal of the pocket knife. I scramble for the button and flick it. The blade springs free with a shiiiink.
And then I get to work. The leather strap of the cuffs is thick and varnished, but bit by bit, it gives away. My shoulders are screaming at me with the effort. I don’t stop, though. Not even for a second. Not even as sweat slicks my brow and my muscles burn.
At long last, the final strand gives way.
The moment my hands are free, I get to my feet and dress fast. Then I rush upstairs to the upper floor of the house. It’s eerily quiet up here. As if nothing is amiss.
Until I hear the thundering of footsteps. Collin steers around the corner and nearly collides with me.
“Boss!” he says, skidding to a halt when he notices me. “You okay?”
“Long story,” I say evasively. “Renata escaped.”
“Yeah, and she broke her brother out of the cell, too,” he tells me. “Madeline saw her taking off with him.”
I frown. “Where were they headed?”
“The dock,” Collin replies. “I think they were going for the yacht.”
“Come on,” I order, flying through the house towards the beach.
Collin tails me and we burst outside onto the pool deck where a bunch of my men have gathered. I can see the yacht out in the distance. They’ve gotten a pretty good head start and I know that within minutes, they’ll be too far gone to catch up to.
But I’m still determined. She’s not going to get away that easy.
“Boss, we don’t have a boat fast enough to reach them,” Collin points out.
“I know,” I snarl, trying to think fast. And then it comes to me. “The jet ski!”
I sprint down to the water’s edge, keeping my eyes on the receding dot of the yacht on the horizon line the whole time.
And as I’m watching them, I notice something else: another boat, a fast-moving one, zipping over through the darkness.