I realize she still had the safety on, and I wonder if she even knows what it is and how to disengage it. Her eyes go wide when she’s the one on the end of the barrel.
“Fiona,” she says, her eyes darting over my shoulder. I don’t have time to react before Devon and James are upon me, knocking the gun away and dragging me back down the hallway.
One of them I might be able to take. Two of them will be nearly impossible.
Being rough now, they re-tie me to the chair, making the bindings even tighter so they dig into my sensitive flesh. I keep a straight face the entire time, refusing to let James see the pain he’s causing me.
“Is it the drugs, Fiona?” he asks, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with me. “Or the Milov brainwashing? What is making you act like this? Because once I can see that you’re on our side, and you just give us some information about the family and how we can get our hands on Anya, we can let you out of here. You can even go back to that internship you enjoy so much. Or, even better, you can come and work for me properly.”
“No,” I say, bringing my eyes to his. If he knows I’m bluffing, I might as well stop letting him have his egotistical rant. “I would rather die than participate in the sick shit you do.”
The man at the back of the room—Devon, apparently—lets out a snort, and James turns to fix him with a glare. He quickly sobers up, shaking his head in apology.
“That sick shit put Olive through college,” James says, pulling a knife from his belt and running a finger along the blade.
“I managed to put myself through college without trafficking anyone.”
James rears back, his chin softening as he does. All at once, I hate the stupid, hypocritical hurt on his face as he tilts his head, giving me an appraising look.
“I see the Milovs have told you some untrue things about me—”
“I saw it with my own eyes, James. You can deny—”
I see stars and taste blood when he hits me across the face with the back of his hand. Devon gets to his feet on the other side of the room, holding his hands up.
“Woah, woah, man, you didn’t say you were going to—”
“Shut the fuck up,” James says, whirling around and pointing at him. “You’re on my payroll, sit down and close your fucking mouth.” Then he turns back to me, a grin on his face. “And as for you, if you think you know so much about this world, you’re running around and spying on people and just learning so much, then it’s time you got a full introduction into what it means.”
When I start laughing, James raises his eyebrows.
“What’s so funny, Fiona?”
“What’s funny is that you’re beating me up now because you’ve got me drugged and tied up. But when the Milovs get here, and they get me out of these ropes, I’m going to kill myself. If Boris doesn’t do it first.”
“Oh, and what makes you so confident they care enough to come after you?” James taunts, walking around the back of the chair. I don’t like having him behind me, and eventually, he circles back around to the front. “But more importantly, what makes you think they’re going to know where to find you?
It’s stupid, but I glance down at my forearm, where the tracking chip is implanted. I blame it on the drugs, on the situation, on the fact that my brain is still spinning from the blow. It’s just a quick glance down at my arm, but it’s too late.
James has seen it and gestures for Devon to hand him a knife.
The next time James Allard hits me, it feels like my brain rattles around in my skull, and I hold onto consciousness for just a second before passing out.
Chapter 25 - Boris
“There’s something off about this,” I say, pulling up to a small shack in the middle of the desert. It’s abandoned for miles, and there’s not a single vehicle outside. I don’t see how Allard could be keeping Fiona here. They certainly couldn’t have walked, and I don’t see them transporting her without a vehicle, especially if she’s conscious. She won’t make it easy for them.
“Yeah!” Viktor says, glancing around. “Where are the vehicles?”
Anya lets out an exasperated sigh from the backseat, having spent most of the ride trying to explain to Viktor that he’s been shouting and practically bursting our eardrums. Clearly, he’s not getting the message.
“My thought exactly,” I mutter. There’s something very wrong about this situation. “You’re sure this is it.”
“The tracker is in that shack,” Anton says, glancing up at me, and I swallow, nodding once. It’s no secret that every one of us is wondering if we’re going to find Fiona alive in there. It seems clear that James left her here unguarded, which he wouldn’t be likely to do if she was still alive.
If that’s true—if James took my love away from me before I’ve had the chance to tell her how I truly feel, I will spend the rest of my life making sure he regrets it more than anything else in his life. I’ll cut his balls off and mail them to his mother. I’ll take one eye at a time, let Viktor go at him with all his fun tricks.
“Anya,” I say, “you move to the driver’s seat and be ready in case we need to make a quick getaway. Keep the doors unlocked and the car in drive, foot on the brake. Got it?”