Page 67 of Cruel Bet

“Very well,” he says, bowing his head, “Shall we?” He gestures for us to sit.

“We’d rather stand,” Nikolai coldly states.

“Very, well,” he replies, unconcerned, handing Mads over to one of his men who places her in what I can only describe as some sort of cage.

She proceeds to cry even more and instinctively I start to walk over to her. The man immediately points his gun at me.

“Ah, stay right where you are, Arianna. We wouldn’t want this precious child to pay for your stupidity, would we?” My father says, wagging a finger at me like I’m a child again.

“You locked my daughter in a goddamn cage!” I snarl.

“It’s for her own safety. We can’t have her toddling around and getting hurt, can we? People put children in playpens all the time.”

As much as I want to argue with him, he has a point, she’s safer in there than in his or the guards’ arms.

“It’s okay, sweetie, mommy’s right here,” I say, trying to comfort her.

I’m vaguely aware of the conversation between Nikolai and my father, the ridiculous agreement he’s demanding that I know Nikolai would never agree to without another choice. He will no doubt try to get out of any agreement as soon as we’re safe. But my focus is solely on my child as I try to comfort her from where I stand, humming softly and hushing her.

“Excellent!” Father exclaims, clapping his hands together. “Of course, the child will stay with me for the foreseeable future to ensure your cooperation. I’m sure you understand. After all, your father had a similar arrangement with the Tanaka family and the twins.”

My surprise over the fact that the twins became part of Nikolai’s family as a bargaining chip is overwhelmed by my horror at what my father is suggesting.

“No!” I cry out.

Father doesn’t even look at me as he speaks to Nikolai. “Women, so emotional. I trust you won’t make the same mistake.”

“Of course not. I’m a businessman and the head of the Kuzmin Bratva, first and foremost,” Nikolai replies cooly.

I can’t believe that Nikolai would do this, that he would give up the one thing we came here for. Our child. I feel as though I’ve been punched in the stomach and the air goes out of me. I have to find a way out of this, to rescue my daughter. I’d rather die than let her spend a moment of her childhood living with my father.

“You. Go and fetch us a bottle of Scotch,” Father orders one of his men. The man hesitates. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s fine, they’re unarmed, they won’t do anything!” he declares, gesturing at us with a wide arch and open hand.

I’m still looking incredulously at Nikolai when he gives the slightest signal with his hand. His eyes plead with me to trust him, that he has a plan to get us out of this. I feel a swell of relief that he is just faking, that he wouldn’t dream of handing over Mads. I have to trust him. We have to trust each other if we’re going to get out of this alive.

With one guard gone, I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking. In here, the playing field just leveled. But there are still several armed men outside. Nikolai could easily take down my father, but not before the guard here gets to him. If he takes down the guard first, Father could escape or call for help.

I hear Adelina faintly moaning and glance over at her. Her eyes are darting back and forth between me and something just behind me, trying to communicate silently with me. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I turn my head slightly to see what it is.

It's a gun.

Or rather, an old rifle mounted on the wall.

I look back at her, confused. Surely my father wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep a loaded weapon in here within our reach? It has to be for display only. But I can tell from Adelina’s expression that she believes it is loaded. I decide to trust her and take a chance.

“It’s okay sweetie, we’re gonna get you out of here any second now,” I say, louder than before, making sure to look at Nikolai in the hope he understands what I want him to do.

He’s still looking at my father, talking, but he nods his head and I pray it’s meant for me, not him. “Let’s shake on it,” he says reaching out his hand.

“A gentleman’s agreement,” Father replies smugly.

Nikolai steps forward, hand outstretched, and catches both my father and his man off guard by delivering a sharp blow to my father’s neck. Father immediately drops to the floor sputtering for breath, his windpipe crushed. Before his man can react, Nikolai is wrestling with him, trying to get the gun from his grip.

I race toward the gun on the wall, grabbing it and feeling the solid weight of it in my hands.

Nikolai and the man continue to grapple, the gun skittering away across the floor as it becomes a fistfight. The man produces a knife and Nikolai expertly blocks his attack, though his arm gets cut doing so.

My father starts to crawl toward the gun, he’s almost reached it.

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