Page 112 of Caged

I don’t want to ask who she is.

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. She’s a stranger.

His eyes narrow and his jaw ticks. “I know she’s alive. Where is she?” He holds another pin over my other leg menacingly.

“Who the fuck is she?” I grunt out. It’s another question that I’m sure I’ll be punished for.

But, he pauses.

“She’s the love of my life,” he says quietly. “She was confused and ran that night.”

Wait.

That night?

The memories flood back. Mikhail’s voice in agony.

Going to see the ruins.

Charred bodies. And the smell of burnt flesh as we pulled the remains from the ashes.

“If she was there, it was you that killed her,” I hiss.

I expected the backhand, but didn’t anticipate that the hammer would accompany it.

Spitting blood, and I think a tooth, at his feet doesn’t seem to faze him.

“Please! Stop!” Mila screams. “It was the diamonds you wanted, not her. I’m good at finding people, I can get her for you. Just…please don’t hurt him.”

Shit.

Ivan’s cold eyes raise and a glimmer of a smile lifts the corner of his mouth.

“Dmitri said you cared for her. It seems the feeling is mutual.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “What is keeping me from killing two women you love? Well, son?” His elbows land on his knees as his finger points under my nose. “I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

“What were the diamonds for, then? A ruse?” Mila amps up her questioning. “If it was some girl, wouldn’t it have been easier to just send me for her?”

Ivan runs his bloody fingers through his white beard, leaving streaks of dull red behind. “She doesn’t pay attention, does she?”

Rolling his stool over to her, he hovers the spike over her thigh.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep myself from yelling out.

“Zoya is not ‘some girl’. She is the light of my life, and was pregnant with my child the last time I saw her.” Ivan raises the hammer and drops it over the long nail.

I can hear her grunt, but she doesn’t cry out as it’s driven into her leg.

FORTY-NINE

MILA

Fuck, that hurts. But, my idea is working.

Ivan’s dark eyes are inches from my face, watching me with a greedy smile as he hits the spike again.

I know he hates questions.

His reputation has preceded him. Anyone who’s ever worked out of the light of day knows.

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