Page 167 of Ivory Ashes

Maybe Mikhail is here to save me. He’s going to get me and Dante out of here and avenge Anatoly’s murder.

Then the door opens and a man I’ve never seen before is lurking in the threshold. His face is half in shadow, but the yellow glint of his smile is hard to miss.

“‘Help’!” he mocks, his voice shrill and cruel. “‘Who’s there’?”

“What do you want with me?” I spit.

There’s a single yellow light above the door. It casts ghoulish shadows across his face as he steps further into the room.

“I want to find out what’s so fucking special about you,” he says in his normal voice. “The woman who started a war.”

Is this guy one of the enemies Mikhail was trying to save me from? Is Iakov Novikov working for the other side?

“I didn’t start anything. I have nothing to do with any of this.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard. First, you were engaged to Trofim. Now, you’re married to Mikhail. The Novikov men are fascinated with you.” He clicks his tongue, eyeing me appraisingly. “What I want is to figure out why.”

Slowly, the man pushes the door closed behind him.

The room is small, but with him towering over the only exit—which I suspect is now locked—I feel like I’m being buried alive. With every inhale, there’s another shovelful of graveyard dirt weighing on my chest. Less oxygen to take in. Less room to move.

Less hope of getting out alive.

“Please,” I rasp, clinging desperately to reality. If I let myself fall apart in front of this man, I don’t know what will happen. “My father—he has money. If that’s what you want, I can get it to you.”

I haven’t spoken to my father in six years, so using him as a lifeline is a stretch, to say the least. Even if I called him right now and told him what was going on, he’d probably let this man do whatever is swirling around in his sick head as punishment for disobeying him.

No one is coming to save me.

His mouth curves into a smirk. “I don’t want your money, darling.”

A shiver moves down my spine. With every step he takes towards me, I feel myself slipping out of my body. With every passing second, I’m further and further away from this room.

When I close my eyes, I see the beach house in Costa Rica. I see Dante and Mikhail building sandcastles on the beach, the turquoise blue water stretching out forever behind them. I can feel the soft sheets of our bed and feel Mikhail’s warm bulk against my side.

When we were there, I imagined a different future for all of us. I could see us becoming a family, growing together and carving out something like a normal life amidst the chaos.

So I go there now as the man wraps a clammy hand around my arm.

“I won’t hurt you.” His words grate against my eardrum, ripping me out of my fantasy world. “Just stay quiet.”

A whimper forces its way up my throat as he forces me down to the floor and presses a knee between my legs. Just as he tries to pry my locked thighs apart, I hear another key in the door.

Lovely. That must be more of them. An audience to watch my torture.

Except the man on top of me freezes. He looks back at the door, confused. He clearly isn’t expecting anyone else.

Then the door flies open so hard it bounces off the wall and the man springs away from me like I’m on fire.

The fear disappears in an instant, replaced by a stupid, stubborn, blinding hope.

I’m saved, I think. Someone’s here to save me after all.

62

MIKHAIL

The hallway is dark, save for the lone light above me. The hospital hallway groans and clicks and twitches with noises from the rooms lining the corridor. I pace back and forth and the light overhead flickers with me, like the energy radiating from my body is fucking with it.

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