I’m upstairs. I know that much. But I have no idea where I am. I don’t even know if I’m even in the city anymore.
I can still hear Willow cursing.
Don’t fucking touch her.
Don’t you dare hurt her!
I’m staring at the door. It seems like such a typical door. The wood is painted with a faded teal that appears more cheerful than this room feels. The walls are a grayish white with paint peeling from every square inch. Above my head hangs a single lamp, antique glass dyed green and red that splatters faded light over my shoulders.
There’s a slight draft, but I can’t see any vent in the room. It’s a weird place that seems frozen in time. Other than the cot under my ass and the thin blanket folded neatly next to my knee, there’s nothing else in here.
Not even a pot to pee in.
This is how people disappear.
My lower lip trembles while I blink, trying to break through my dull reaction. Toeverything.
But I can’t even begin to scratch the surface of the lake of emotions frozen over my head. I see the ice thickening above. I feel the air bubbles drifting from my lips. My lungs burn because I can’t breathe, yet I do nothing to change my position.
Because what’s the point? My father is dead. Willow is gone. Pavel and Liya are tucked safely away from Cardona.
I might be alone now, but I’m not an idiot. I know what this room is for. I know when he returns, I’ll have to pay for the sins of my father—and for the sins of my lover as well.
Hot tears break through the surface. My skin is frozen, but my nose feels like it’s been dipped in lava. The heat spreads over my cheeks, climbs my ears, and drifts down the back of my neck.
I shiver.Where’s Willow?
The warehouse is deathly quiet. A gunshot or a groan would have revealed her fate. And since I haven’t heard either, I can only assume that her life is temporarily spared.
For now.
It won’t take long for Cardona to figure out a use for Willow. She’s young, gorgeous, and slim. Guys like Felix usually see women like her as fit for a few things.
Servitude. Silence.
And sex. Lots of sex.
Footsteps thump on the other side of the door. Each step rattles my heart, widening my eyes as I stare at the door.
I swallow around the egg in my throat. The tears finally spill over as the footsteps draw closer. The smoky, spicy aroma of fresh tobacco stings my nostrils. The wood creaks near the door. The doorknob squeals, and the hinges of the door wheeze.
Cardona stands in the doorway, wearing a smug smirk. His beady eyes glitter with unspeakable ideas as he steps slowly into the room and closes the door behind him. Silence resumes. Cigar smoke wisps forward like long fingers reaching for me.
I don’t wipe my tears. I don’t even bother to cover my chest. What’s the use?
“My dear Zoya,” he rasps as he steps forward. He pauses a few feet away from me, his smirk diminishing slightly as he looks me over. “You’re a mess.”
Whatever energy I have left is used to resist the urge to tremble.
My father’s voice circles my brain saying,Don’t show fear, Zoyechka. Never show them fear.
For guys like Cardona, fear is an aphrodisiac. And I would never dream of giving him the smallest bit of pleasure. I would never dream of serving or obeying him in the slightest.
But he’s so much bigger than me. His height alone makes me feel as small as a mouse trapped in a cage.
“I thought I told them to clean you up,” he says as he steps toward me. “Lazy bastards. They always want their food without washing their hands first.”
He reaches for me. I try to turn away. And when he doesn’t touch me, I crack open my eyes.