Page 111 of Caged

His laugh makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “I love how you stay in character, even after your contract is completed.” He claps exaggeratedly in her direction.

“We didn’t have them.” I saw that worm Tyler run off with them and jump on his bike. “Did he give them to you?”

Ivan points at Dmitri, who leans into a solid punch to my stomach, doubling me over in the chair and knocking the wind out of me.

For a thin, pale man, he packs a hell of a hit.

“I ask the questions.” Ivan lets out a whistle.

Shit. He likes to call his men to him like they’re animals. It’s why he nicknamed them the Hounds of Hell.

A heavy-set, bald guard comes through the door carrying a black mirrored motorcycle helmet and the distinct velvet pouch of the diamonds.

Mila gives me a panicked look before smoothing her features.

Dmitri takes them both, and with a scowl herds the squat man out.

“You see, this is where the lines blur.” Ivan points at it. “Does it really count, if I had to retrieve them myself?” He flicks his wrist, and Dmitri raises the reflective visor.

Tyler’s glassy eyes stare out.

Mila gasps and turns away, the color drains from her cheeks.

Whatever their attitudes were toward each other, I know he was still her family.

Dmitri sets the head on a wooden table against the wall next to an array of tools and surgical instruments.

My father’s torture equipment.

I don’t care what he does to me. “If you have everything from her you wanted, you should let her and her brother go. You have me.”

Ivan sighs. “You were always the slow one.” Reaching down, he picks up a spike and hammer, then saunters to me.

“You.” He puts the sharp end of the pin against my thigh.

Of course it’s the opposite one that Mila ran a knife through yesterday. “Don’t.” He taps the blunt end with the mallet. “Get.” Another hit and it pierces the muscle. “To.” Gritting my teeth, he lands another blow, sinking the rod deeper. “Dictate.” One final strike, and the long nail is buried into my leg far enough only the flat top sticks out.

A slow seep of blood oozes into the denim of my jeans.

The burning pain dulls to an ache that I try to force down.

I should be used to being stabbed. The woman I love has done it a handful of times to me already.

It still fucking hurts.

I can hear her breathing rapidly through her nose.

But, she doesn’t say anything. If we survive this, I’ll need to reward her for that. She’s being a very good girl.

Holding on to the memory of her and my Hellcat makes the pain more bearable. And gives me something to look forward to.

“Now.” Ivan pulls a stool over to sit in front of me. “Before I make you a pincushion, I’m going to ask you a very important question.” He snaps his fingers and gestures to Dmitri.

His lap dog brings him another long spike.

“Where is Zoya?” His pupils swell as he stares at me.

The name sounds vaguely familiar.

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