Page 34 of Toxic

But invisibility is an illusion, and one I’ve clearly overestimated.

The first prickle of unease crawls up my spine as I round a corner into a narrower street. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a primal warning system alerting me to unseen eyes. I quicken my pace, the soft tap of my footsteps echoing off brick walls. Behind me, other footfalls join the rhythm – too steady, too purposeful to be casual passers-by.

I risk a glance over my shoulder. Shadows detach themselves from doorways, solidifying into hulking figures that match mystride. My pulse quickens, adrenaline flooding my system. I’ve walked into a trap, and the jaws are about to snap shut.

Ahead, the alley narrows further. Two more men materialize, blocking my path. Their broad shoulders and hard eyes leave no doubt – these are Viktor Kazanov’s men. The tattoos peeking out from beneath their collars confirm it.

I don’t hesitate. Survival instinct takes over, my body moving before my mind can fully process the danger. I pivot, driving my knee up into the closest thug’s groin. As he doubles over, I use his momentum to propel myself forward, aiming for the gap between him and his companion.

But they’re prepared for resistance. Hands grab at my clothing, meaty fingers digging into my arms. I twist, breaking one hold only to find myself ensnared by another. My martial arts training kicks in, muscle memory taking over as I deliver precise strikes to vulnerable points – throats, solar plexuses, insteps.

For a moment, I gain the upper hand. Bodies crumple around me, groans of pain filling the air. But there are too many of them, the confined space working against me. A blunt object – a pipe, perhaps – connects with the back of my head. Pain explodes across my skull, my vision blurring at the edges.

I stagger, fighting to maintain consciousness. Rough hands seize me, forcing my arms behind my back. The plastic bite of zip ties cuts into my wrists.

“You’re coming with us,” a gravelly voice growls in my ear.

I struggle, but the world is spinning, darkness encroaching on my vision. The last thing I register is the acrid smell of van upholstery before oblivion claims me.

Consciousness returns slowly,dragging me back to a reality I’d rather avoid. The first thing I notice is the cold – abone-deep chill that seeps through my clothes. Then comes the discomfort – arms pulled tightly behind me, ankles secured to the legs of what feels like a metal chair. My head throbs, a dull ache pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

I force my eyes open, blinking against the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. As my vision clears, the details of my prison come into focus. An abandoned warehouse, vast and decrepit. Rusted metal beams stretch overhead, disappearing into shadows. Broken windows let in slivers of moonlight, creating eerie patterns on the concrete floor. The air is thick with the scent of mildew and stagnant water.

Immediately, my mind kicks into overdrive, assessing the situation with cold precision. I catalog potential weapons, escape routes, structural weaknesses. The chair I’m bound to – old, but sturdy. The zip ties – tight, but not unbreakable. A discarded nail glints on the floor, just within reach if I can maneuver carefully.

Footsteps echo in the cavernous space, growing louder. I school my features into a mask of indifference, determined not to show weakness. A figure emerges from the gloom, and my stomach clenches with a mixture of anger and disgust.

Regina. My second cousin, my lifelong rival, and now, apparently, my captor.

She circles me like a shark scenting blood, a smug smile playing on her perfectly painted lips. “Comfortable?” she asks, her voice dripping with false concern.

I meet her gaze steadily, injecting as much derision into my tone as possible. “Is this your way of hosting a family reunion? I must say, your event planning skills leave something to be desired.”

Regina’s laugh is cold, devoid of any real mirth. “Always so witty. I see Hawk’s taste hasn’t improved much.”

At the mention of Hawk’s name, I feel a flicker of possessiveness, quickly suppressed. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing any reaction. Instead, I arch an eyebrow, my voice laced with contempt. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Regina. Is kidnapping your new hobby? It seems a bit... pedestrian for someone of your supposed stature.”

Her eyes flash with irritation, a crack in her polished veneer. “You think you’re clever, but you’re in over your head. You have no idea what forces you’re dealing with.”

I almost laugh at the cliché. “Oh please, spare me the melodrama. Viktor may be a thug, but he’s hardly the mastermind you’re making him out to be.”

Regina’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. I’ve struck a nerve.

Yeah, I know. Viktor’s not the mastermind Regina thinks he is. But finding the one backing him has taken me years and I’m closer than ever.

She leans in closer, her breath hot against my ear. “Did Hawk ever tell you about our history?”

I roll my eyes, not bothering to hide my disdain. “Your delusions are showing, Regina. What’s next? Are you going to tell me that you and Hawk had some torrid love affair? Please. I know him far better than you ever did or will.”

“We were close once,” Regina continues, her voice silky smooth but with an undercurrent of desperation. “Very close. You were just a convenient distraction.”

The lie is so transparent it’s almost insulting. I know Hawk and the depth of his disdain for Regina. A part of me wants to lash out, to defend what Hawk and I have. But I push that impulse down. Emotional detachment is key here.

I smirk, allowing a hint of pity to color my tone. “If that’s true, why are you so threatened by me? Face it, Regina. Hawknever wanted you. Not when we were younger, and certainly not now. You’re just a sad, desperate woman clinging to a fantasy.”

Regina’s facade crumbles, rage contorting her features. “You little bitch,” she snarls, her hand raises and she slaps me across the face. “I’m not threatened by a pathetic little girl playing at being a woman.”

I laugh, the sound cold and mocking. “Really? Then why go to all this trouble? Face it, Regina. You’re terrified that I’ve succeeded where you’ve always failed. Hawk sees me as an equal, a partner. You? You’re not even a blip on his radar.”

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