Page 48 of Under His Protection

I look at Michelle next to me; her fear-filled eyes are filled with a pleading look, but there is no mercy in this place. I think of Emily in the container behind me, of Zara and Anya. The anger within me, a slow, simmering burn, intensifies. It isn’t the hot flash of rage I am used to; it is something colder, sharper, a blade twisting in my gut. I imagine the gun in my hand, the cold metal against my skin, the satisfying weight as I turn it on Cole, on his men, on this entire world.

I start to kick and scream as the man’s hand on me bruises my arm more. “Don’t touch him, Cole! Don’t touch any of them!” I shriek; my voice is raw, almost unfamiliar to me.

Cole chuckles, his gaze fixed on me. He takes a step closer and presses the gun against the back of Alexander’s head. “This guy?” he mocks.

Michelle, her face emotionless, suddenly lunges toward Cole and Alexander. “Alex!” she screams.

One of the men, his movements swift and brutal, slams the butt of his gun against her temple. The sickening thud of the impact reverberates through the warehouse. Michelle crumples to the floor, unconscious.

My anger, a molten river, threatens to break through the dam of my self-control. The sight of Michelle lying on the floor ignites a primal fury within me. I want to tear Cole apart with my bare hands, to feel his blood under my nails.

He pauses, his fingers tightening around the golden gun. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he gestures toward his men.

“Place her in front of Alexander. Undress her, all of her clothes.”

No, no, no. Stay calm, Ava.

My hands tremble, but I hold my ground, my gaze fixed on Cole’s. He’s seemingly amused by my defiance and waves the golden gun, urging his men forward.

“We don’t have all day,” he says. “The ship leaves soon. How ironic, right, Alex? Your ship will leave with both your women on it, and you’ll never see them again. They’ll be placed in the good hands of the Veles Network Russian branch, where their – talents – will surely be appreciated.” He stares at my breasts through my thin shirt, his smirk widening. “Not that it’ll matter. You’ll be dead soon, knowing they’ll be suffering at the hands of other men.”

“Go to hell!” Alexander spits, blood splattering on Cole’s white shoe.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Cole says, his mouth twisting into a cruel grimace. “These are new shoes.”

Without warning, Cole’s fist explodes against Alexander’s jaw, a bone-jarring crack echoing through the warehouse. I cringe, the impact making my teeth clench. A fresh stream of blood blossoms on Alexander’s face, trailing down his jaw and staining his shirt more crimson. I want to scream, to claw at Cole, to do something, but I can’t. They’re too many.

Alexander groans, his body straining against the men who hold him captive. His breathing is ragged, his muscles bulging, his sweat-slicked skin glistening in the harsh overhead lights. Even in his weakened state, his rage and desperation resonate with my own. We are connected, our fury a shared current.

Our eyes meet, and I mouth the words, “I love you.” And I do. With a fierce, all-consuming love that transcends the pain, the fear, the hopeless reality of our situation.

He shakes his head, his lips forming a silent plea. “Don’t,” he mouths back. He knows. He knows I am about to do something reckless.

“Cole,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady, cutting through the silence. He looks up, his brow furrowed.

“I have a proposition for you,” I say, my gaze holding his.

Cole raises an eyebrow. “A proposition?” he repeats, his voice dripping with skepticism. “From a girl about to be shipped off to the highest bidder? I’m all ears, Ava. Entertain me.”

I take a deep breath, my gaze steady on his. The fear is still there, a cold knot in my stomach, but it is overshadowed by a surge of adrenaline that fuels my next move.

“Let them go,” I say. “Michelle, Alexander, and the girls. Let them walk out of here, and I’ll go willingly. No fight, no fuss. You can have me. You can ship me off to your precious Russian contacts.

A ripple of murmurs goes through the space. I can feel the men shifting, their gazes flickering between Cole and me. Even Alexander’s bruised features contorted in pain seem to straighten slightly, his gaze sharpening.

Cole throws back his head and laughs, a harsh, grating sound. “You think you’re in a position to bargain, Ava?” he says, his amusement fading, replaced by a cold anger. “You’re a commodity, a piece of meat. You don’t get to make demands.”

“Maybe not,” I say, my voice calm. “But you need me alive, don’t you? Damaged goods don’t fetch a high price.” I let my gaze sweep over his men, my defiance simmering.

I pull out the blade I picked up with the help of Michelle, its edge catching the spot light from the ceiling above. I press it against my wrist, the cold metal a shock against the heat in my veins. I'm not about to do it, but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know what I'm capable of.

Cole's smile vanishes. His eyes narrow. "Are you threatening to kill yourself?" He glances at Alexander, then back at me. I can feel the heat of his gaze, a violation that makes my skin crawl, but I hold his eyes, refusing to back down. He adjusts his tie. It’s his tick, and I can almost feel his need to regain control, even for a moment.

"Everything needs to be in order," Cole says, his voice low and deliberate. "Everything has to be—perfect. You can't just walk around threatening to die. It disrupts the plan. You’re playing a dangerous game, Ava,” he says, his voice low.

“We’re all playing a dangerous game, Cole,” I counter.

He steps closer, the golden gun glinting. “You really think you can outsmart me?” He leans in, his breath warm against my cheek. The lemony scent of his cologne makes me gag. “You think you can beat me at my own game?”

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