I whip through a shower and slip into a pair of shorts before settling into bed. Trying Scotlyn again, it goes straight to voicemail this time. As if someone has shut off her phone. Disappointed, I hop on my laptop to see if there are any earlyreviews of her show yet. Maybe it didn’t go as well as she imagined, and she’s embarrassed.
But according to reviews and social media posts, the performance was outstanding, and Scotlyn is being praised. People are saying it’s her best work to date. Perplexed, I call her again.
Straight to voicemail. “Sunshine, it’s Jax. I really need to hear from you. Tell me you’re okay. Call me back.” Tossing my phone on the bed, I pace the apartment for hours, waiting for a call that doesn't come, and I haven’t a fucking clue why.
Scotlyn
Confusion surrounds me as I stare at the white wall across from the bed I’m chained to. It’s been mere hours since the end of the show and I was dragged out of the theatre. I don’t even know why. This man, Sergei, he owns the theatre—or his family does—but I’d never seen him around before a few days ago. I’m not stupid; I know he’s corrupt, but there’s no way I’ve witnessed something, either.
I’m angry, frustrated, and puzzled. He doesn’t scare me, not in the way I assume they’re trying to. They have no idea who I am or where I come from. If they did, they wouldn’t have taken me. There isn’t a person on this planet that would risk the wrath of my father or brother.
“Hey!” I scream out again. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on sooner or later!” I’m ignored or unheard.
“Come on, Scotty, think.” Leaning my head back against the chilly wall, I'm still in my dress and skirt from last night. At least the socks help keep my feet warm. Bending towards my hands, I pull my hair out of the restrictive bun and keep hold of a couple of the bobby pins. I was never able to master lock-picking when Saint or Bishop used to try and teach me, but it might be my only shot.
With not much room to maneuver my hands—they’re bent in awkward positions—wiggling in the lock is difficult. I hear doors slamming shut and close my eyes, focusing on the mechanisms inside the handcuffs. It doesn’t work, and panic sets in.
I'm aware of multiple footsteps entering the house, and I realize they’re back, making me sloppy. With voices right outside my door, I quickly hide the other bobby pins, but I’m unable to get the one out of the lock.
“What are you doing?” Sergei growls as he storms through the door.
“I had to pee?” His hand reaches out so quickly that I don’t have time to pull away.
Grasping my chin with an iron fist, he wrenches me closer so my hip hits the metal bedpost with bruising force. “Do not talk back. You are mine. We are to wed.” My eyebrows raise to the roof.
“Like hell we are. I’m not yours or anyone’s.” With a feral growl, he tosses me back on the bed, my head barely missing the wall.
Dropping his weight down on top of me, he slams his hips between my legs, forcing his erection against my sex. I feel sick. “You will be mine. I’ll take you home, and you’ll do as I say.” He seems so confident that I’ll submit to him.
The rebel in me rears her head. “No. I won’t.” His meaty fist buries itself in my kidney with such brutal force that if I hadanything in my stomach, I would have puked. As it is, I’m dizzy and seeing stars.
“You will.” His other hand encircles my neck, squeezing, choking, stealing my breath until my eyes begin to drift shut from lack of oxygen. “You will say yes and be my wife. Not his.”
My hands release his wrist and claw at his face when I feel myself fading away. I can’t lose consciousness. Who knows what he’ll do to me if I do? Scratching at his eyes, I feel wetness on my fingers as he roars, sitting back.
The next blow is accompanied by blinding pain that causes me to retch up the little bit left in my stomach. All I feel after that is agony until mercy is granted, and I pass out.
Chapter 4
Scotlyn
Gasping awake, I see another horizon darken as the house remains silent. Almost too silent. I’ve counted three sunsets since being abducted. Suffered countless beatings because I won’t stay quiet or obedient. I’ve gathered from pieces of conversation in both English and Russian—thank you, Aunty Nika and Uncle Dimitri, for making sure we had a few basics—that they’re waiting for me to heal from the countless hours of abuse they've dished out and to be certain I won’t try asking for help while going through airport security.
Sergei intends on taking me back to Russia and forcing a marriage on me that I don’t want, and I wholeheartedly intend on making sure that doesn’t happen. Which is why I fought back a little harder with his goon the last time. I haven’t been allowed to change since getting here, so hiding the single key from his coat pocket in my bodice was a little tricky, but as I dig for it, I find it and nearly weep with relief.
I have no idea where I am, but I know that if this key fits and I manage to get free, I will have to run hard and fast. Closing my eyes, I say a little prayer before inserting it and turning. Therestraint pops, and I feel instant relief and elation. I bite my lip to keep from crying out my victory.
Undoing the other cuff, I pull my stupid socks up to make sure they’re secure on my feet. As my only protection for my most valuable asset at the moment, I need to keep them injury-free. Standing up, I steady myself with a hand on the wall. I’m weak from not being fed and given only minimal water while I’ve been here.
Creeping towards the door, I’m careful of my steps. I never heard any creaky boards while the men walked in and out of here, but that doesn’t mean they don't exist to give me away. Holding my side, where I’m reasonably sure I have a cracked rib or possibly some bruised organs, I twist the doorknob. Relief overtakes me when I find it unlocked.
No lights are on, and I don’t hear any noise to indicate someone is here. Even though I know there must be. They haven't put this much effort into breaking me just to leave me alone. Then again, maybe they genuinely have no idea who I am. Because surely, if they did, they’d know not to keep me here for long. My family is notorious for finding things and getting precisely what it is they want. Especially when one of their own has been taken. And my family has to know by now. I always call the day after a big performance. Mom would have been expecting my call. We had spoken two days before, and she knew how nervous and excited I was about it.
They have to know.
Somebody must know I’m missing.
Libby would; she would cause hell. We’re as close as sisters.