Page 79 of Twisted Cage

NIKOLETTA

My heart pounds in my ears as I blink away the confusion. The roof dips overhead, the lining torn under the gouged metal from where we flipped and slid into the tree. My locked seat belt digs into my hip and breast where I’m left hanging on my side, just a few inches from the door and window now jammed against the ground.

Stars wink in the inky sky over the passenger side windows. Moonlight spills into the cab, giving us just enough light to see.

Already out of his seatbelt, Roddick braces his feet on the driver’s side door and yanks on the handle of the passenger side door over him, but it won’t budge. “Fuck! Come on,” he mutters, crouched over in the tight space as he slams his shoulder repeatedly against the door while yanking the handle.

After three attempts, he flips around and delivers a series of solid kicks, popping the window free from the frame. Just as he’s about to hoist himself free, he jabs a finger in my direction. “Stay down inside and stay low.”

Hide and do nothing? I don’t fucking think so.

Before I can tell him exactly what I think of his demand, he’s climbing out the opening.

Fingers trembling, I jab at the button of my seat belt. Just as stubborn as the window Roddick kicked out, it finally releases after the third try.

Konstantin probably had the belts made that way so I would stay put. The thought slices through me. Laughter bubbles up only to turn into a tortured sob at the thought of what could be happening out there to him right now.

Falling the few inches between my body and window, I carefully brace my palms flat on the glass. A series of spider cracks cut across the glass in jagged lines, but the window stays smooth and intact, protecting me from the ground. I push up just enough to reach for the back of the driver’s seat and use it to pull myself the rest of the way up.

My body protests every flex of muscle. The ache between my thighs is a relentless reminder of the way Konstantin took me on the balcony. Destroyed me.

Our second time.

My second time.

Now I have to wonder if it will be our last.

The sounds of skidding cars and revving engines tear through the otherwise quiet night. Cold dread pools in my belly.

I know I heard shots before. Distant, but definitely gunshots.

“Where is he? Where’s Konstantin?”

Roddick ignores me as he gets to his feet on top of the car and draws his gun.

Pushing to my feet, I slide my knife free and follow, my heel digging into the leather of the seat, giving me a stable foothold.

He’s not answering me. Why the hell isn’t he answering me?

Grabbing the edge of the door, I pull up and grab ahold of a fistful of his pants. “Answer me, dammit. Where the hell is he?”

“Nikoletta, down!” Konstantin’s rough, deep command comes from somewhere in the darkness, just as Roddick yells at me.

Headlights streak across our wrecked SUV and land on Konstantin, where he’s marching toward the oncoming car, his gun drawn.

A humming starts in my skull, the scene unfolding slowing down in a series of frames. My lungs ache from the panic that gripped my throat during the crash, of not knowing where Konstantin is, if he’s safe, and from the exertion of maneuvering through the mangled SUV.

But now, that pain is bone-deep terror as I watch the car take aim at my Kostya. Heavy dread settles in my stomach. The scream building up inside me is impossible to push past my tight throat.

I thought I had seen him at his most brutal, the night he bought me and Moretti approached him in the street as we were leaving, but no. The promise of retribution on his face then is nothing compared to the pure wrath etched into his every feature right now.

But the formidable, enraged beast before me is mortal, exposed, and fighting nearly impossible odds.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

I whirl on the sound as a bullet glances off the car a mere few inches from my arm.

My eyes meet Konstantin’s for a fraction of a second, but I swear everything he feels is right there. Horror seeing how close their bullet came to hitting me, and that look giving way to blinding fury.

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