Page 43 of Under His Protection

Michelle winces as the woman unwraps the makeshift bandage, her fingers probing the swollen flesh with a practiced touch. “Broken, da. But not bad. I will fix.”

The woman, whose name I learn is Katerina, works quickly, cleaning Michelle’s wounds, applying a fresh bandage, and setting her wrist with a swift, almost brutal efficiency. I watch her every move, trying to gauge her, to find a crack in her icy exterior.

“You work for Cole?” I ask, my voice a hesitant probe.

Katerina glances up at me, her blue eyes sharp and unreadable. “I work for myself,” she says, her voice clipped. “I healer. I fix what is broken. Raven pays me money cash.”

“But you know what he is doing?” I press. “You know what he is planning? His work?”

She shakes her head, her expression stoic. “I do not ask questions. I am not paid to think. I am paid to heal and fix up.”

I bite back a frustrated sigh. Katerina is a wall, impenetrable, unyielding. There is no getting through to her. As she finishes tending to Michelle’s wounds, she hands me a black dress, the fabric soft and surprisingly luxurious.

“Change,” she says, her voice firm. “He will be here soon. I will make-up, you. Beautiful, devushki.”

The fear, a constant companion, tightens in my chest. He? Who is he? Cole? Or someone worse? And why do we need to dress up? Another twisted game?

I slip into the dress, the fabric a cold caress against my skin. I look at Michelle, staring at the floor, her face pale and drawn.

“What do you think he will do to us?” she says, drawing imaginary circles on the floor.

I don’t have an answer. I look at Katerina, who is packing away her medical supplies and taking out a make-up bag. Her movements are precise and efficient.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “Please, Katerina, tell me.”

She looks up at me, her expression impassive. “You know soon enough,” she says. “Be ready.”

Chapter 16

The Predator

Cole reappears after about an hour, his gaze sweeping over us with hungry intensity. My skin prickles under his scrutiny. “You clean up nicely,” he says, his voice a low purr.

He steps towards me and grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His cold and calculating eyes hold me captive.

“Pity I can’t stick around to enjoy you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek.

“Katerina, spasiba,” Cole says, his voice smooth as silk, his gaze lingering on Michelle and me with a disturbing fire. “They look— exquisite.”

Disgust and rage surge through me. I spit at him, the saliva landing on his sharp cheekbone.

"I like that. You're spicier than I thought," he says, a flicker of amusement dancing in his cold eyes as he wipes the spit from his cheek.

He walks over to me and presses himself against me, the hard line of his body mocking my trembling. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to—enjoy you.”

He releases me, and I slide down the wall. My legs are weak, and my body is shaking with disgust. His gaze lingers on me, and a hot fire burns in his eyes before he finally turns away.

“Take them,” he commands, and his men materialize at his side.

They usher us out of the room and down a seemingly endless corridor. My body is stiff, my steps mechanical, following the rhythm of their footsteps. Michelle trails behind me like a broken doll.

I’m supposed to be the strong one, the one who holds it together. But I feel the tears welling, a tidal wave threatening to break through my walls of fuck-you’s and defiant spitting. I blink the tears back, forcing myself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

They push us into the hallway, where we pass a group of men, their eyes raking over us, undressing us with hungry gazes. The sound of their laughter, coarse and cruel, grates on my nerves. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and stale beer, a masculine tang that makes me gag.

I want to scream, to run, to disappear, but they drag me along.

“All of this – the prison bedroom, this building, doing whatever you do here. This show is all for your brother’s revenge?” I spit, the words a venomous dart.

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