Page 43 of Twisted Cage

With the touch of one button, still holding her wrist, I wait for Nikolaj to pick up.

“You better not be calling to tell me you lost her,” he warns. The meeting with the governor sounds more like a dinner party in the background, which definitely explains his surly disposition.

“Your baby sister…” I begin, enjoying the snarl bubbling from her throat with my use of ‘baby,’ “… is making bold fucking demands. You meet them or she doesn’t leave.”

“You’re over six and half feet tall, Malikov. You outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds.” The tension in his voice flees with the confirmation I have her in my grip. “But to get her out of there, after she deliberately alerted us to her whereabouts, you need promises from me? You losing your edge, old man?”

“You want me to throw her over my shoulder, her bare ass hanging out from under her dress for all of our men to see, just say the word.”

“Jesus! No. Fuck.” He mutters a few more choice words I can’t make out. I picture him shoving his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

This is only the beginning. Wait until he gets a taste of who she’s turned into. He may just tear his own hair out.

“Dammit… put her on.”

I thought he might see it my way. Not that I’ll ever let a single one of these men get even the barest glimpse of what is for my eyes only. Not without them paying for the glance with their life.

She snatches the offered phone from my hand and spins away, getting as far from me as she can.

I catch a few words here and there, ‘you will do this for me,’ ‘set them up,’ ‘five hundred thousand’… the number that always seems to crop up since the long-ago night I bought her virginity at the cabaret for the same amount.

That fucking number, a curse and a salvation, mocking me with its existence.

Her cheeks flush more and more with her every demand. She keeps her back against the wall, just as this life taught her long ago, her gaze sweeping the room as she speaks.

Pride fills me watching her like this… her tactical stance, assertive in her commands, strategic with what words she uses to play on emotions and get what she wants. Even knowing she worked me over the same way almost a year and a half ago, and will surely work me over again, I take great satisfaction in the forceful woman she’s become.

Finally, a satisfied smile curves on her lips. Her glance sweeps up to the balcony, landing on two women standing there with wary expressions on their faces and sleeping babies in their arms.

The hair on my neck stands up.

My skin prickles.

The weight of dread settling in my chest.

Fucking hell.

I already know where this is going when I hear her words clear as day. “I’m bringing friends.”

17

NIKOLETTA

Four hours in the car and still my hands shake as restless energy snaps and skitters through my veins. I can’t stop shifting on the seat. My skin throbs where I mercilessly scrubbed it in the shower, much in the same way Regan had the night before.

Both of us stained by him in such different ways.

The occasional light flickers in from the streetlamps along the Hudson, dull beams cutting across my lap. Stretching out my fingers, I spot the dark lines under my nails where I haven’t managed to scrub his blood clean. The glimpse takes me right back to my handiwork.

Elijah’s skin splitting when I hadn’t even meant to cut him yet, but satisfaction filling me just the same as blood trickled down his neck and fear lit in his eyes.

Seeing the knowledge in his eyes that this was the end, even as his body instinctively fought for survival, only made me want it all over again.

The music of his animalistic scream when my blade sliced through his flesh like a hot knife through butter, nailing him to the chair. Leaving him at my mercy.

Open. Vulnerable.

The brief taste only made me crave more.

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