Page 22 of Shackled

After she was discharged from the hospital, she left. I don’t know how she managed it. I don’t blame her for leaving, not really. I blame her for leaving me behind.

I blink my eyes and focus again. It isn’t going to help me to think about that now. I’ve risen above that. I’m better than the past I left behind. I will leave a legacy behind me, and it won’t be a woman who ever cowed to a man.

I take a deep breath and come up with a plan. So, I’m chained. He’ll be back eventually, either to torture me again or let me go and try something else. It was kind of cute how he called me a little liar. Of course I’m lying. I could tell him so much information it would fill reams of notebooks and systematically decimate everything my brother has built and hopes to build yet.

I can’t do that, though, and it has nothing to do with any half-assed loyalty to my family. I’m the one who will take over that cartel after I do away with my brother. I won’t give away the keys of the kingdom for all the money in the world, much less a threat of pain.

Ha. It amuses me he even entertained the thought of intimidating me into giving up anything. I live for pain. It turns me on.

I calm myself and focus on my breathing. Of course, I know exactly how I’m going to get out of here, but he might have a camera on me, so I must play it safe.

I look around the room, searching for a source of video feed. It takes me a minute. It’s hard to focus when I’m so starving. My vision keeps blurring in front of me. And the thirst. My God, I can hardly swallow.

Lev Romanov underestimated me. He thought he could chain me up and leave me here, and I don’t see any evidence of recording going on. I suppose he was pretty confident in these chains he has.

But he has no fucking idea who he’s dealing with. They call me La Sombra back at home—the shadow. I can be elusive and silent, capable of escaping anything.

And even naked, I’m prepared. With deft, quiet fingers, I maneuver the pin in my hair. It will take a little time, but I can undo this lock.

As I work, my fingers moving with muscle memory, his parting words echo in my mind.

This isn’t over. I will find out everything you know.

Not everything, mi querido jefe.

He thinks he can break me? I trained my entire life for situations exactly like this—to resist and to survive.

I grit my teeth and concentrate. I stifle a chuckle when I feel the lock give way under my fingers.

Yeah, baby, I’m that good.

Click.

The barely audible sound is the sweetest music to my ears.

I slide the chains off quietly. Now that I’m free, I have to move fast, every movement calculated so he doesn’t notice. My heart races with a thrill of defiance. I am not some helpless damsel. I am Isabella Morales, and no one will ever keep me in a cage.

I quickly assess my clothes. Wrecked. Shit.

I slide into my shoes. They’re clumsy, and I’d give anything for a pair of slim-fitting leggings and a tank top, but it’ll do for now.

I silently move toward the door, every sense on high alert. The basement is tricky to navigate, but I’ve observed enough of the basic layout. I push the door open, a sliver of light guiding my way. I hold my breath as I step into the hallway, turn, and shut and lock the door behind me. That’ll slow him down, anyway.

I move through the darkened basement, my feet silent on the cold floor. Every sound seems amplified: the creak of a floorboard, the distant hum of machinery. My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins. I must get out, to find a way to freedom. The adrenaline makes me feel like I could scale a wall if I had to.

I might have to.

He has video surveillance and guards, that much I know, but what I don’t know is where he is. That could kill me. Do his guards have patrol routes? Where are the cameras trained?

Freedom is so close I can taste it. My hands tremble as I work another lock, but I force myself to stay calm.

Heavy footsteps approach. I quickly and silently duck into a closet filled with brooms and cleaning supplies. I hold my breath, the familiar lilac scent of Fabuloso overpowering.

The steps pass by me. Is that Lev returning, or someone else? If he finds I’m gone…

When the coast is clear, I exit the closet and head as fast as I can toward another door near the windows, telling me that this one will lead to freedom. I try the lock. My pulse races when the handle turns.

Yessss. I push it open. The cool night air hits my face as I step outside. It’s early morning, dawn on the horizon. I’m so tired and so hungry, yet my heart races with exhilaration. I’ve made it.

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