Page 144 of Relentless Sinner

Mybody feels broken and like my skin is falling off. No doubt Salvatore and whoever must have kicked the crap out of me while I was unconscious.

He had to tie me up to beat me. Clever coward.

I open my eyes, try to lift my head, and… my head drops back down. The weight of the drug they gave me is still in my system, weakening me. I can feel it. A former addict knows the difference between something real and something induced.

Gabriella floats into my mind, and I wonder where she is now.

Is it night or is it still daytime?

What are they doing to her?

She was crying. That’s enough of an answer to tell me she’s not okay.

I need to get out of here and find her. Even if I die trying, I have to do something. If they get me on that ship to the Bratva island, it will all be over.

She’ll die.

They’ll get what they need from her then kill her after.

I can’t let that happen.

I breathe slowly, trying to use the oxygen to help me, heal me.

It feels like hours pass before I start to gain some clarity and am able to lift my head. I can see where I am now. I’m chained up in a cage, but my strength is returning.

My feet aren’t chained or bound; they will be my weapon.

Time passes until the door behind me opens. Footsteps echo on the concrete floor, then two guards stand in front of me.

I keep my head down to appear like I’m still in my weakened state but just at an angle that allows me to see them. I take in what they look like, their weapons, and their mannerisms.

“Look at this. The great Jaxon Bortsov,” the tallest one taunts.

“He looks like a dickless fucker to me.”

“Because he is.” The tall one hits the rails of the cage with his machine gun and laughs. “He made a good toy earlier. I made sure I kicked the living crap out of him.”

“Me too.” The other guy laughs. “Come on, let’s prep him for shipping and get out of here. I’m going to use some of that money we got to buy some pussy.”

“I second that.”

I try to stay as still as possible and listen to them. The jangle of keys fills my ears as they open the cage.

The tall one—the one who took pleasure in beating me first—grabs my arms and undoes the chains bounding me to the top of the cage, but there are still handcuffs around my wrists.

I slump to the floor to keep up the act of not presenting a threat. Being on the ground also allows me a moment of reprieve for the blood to rush back into my arms and the rest of my body.

Fuck.My veins are on fire.

The two guards grab me, each taking one arm to pull me out of the cage.

Again, I take note of my surroundings and get a close-up view of their weapons. The mouthy guard to my right has a knife in the sheath on his belt. It’s just the right size for me to grab and use with my bounded wrists.

In the Vygotsky Bratva you’re prepared for situations like this. I have a chance here. My one and only chance. I need to take it and make every second count.

They drag me to the corner of the room, where there’s a stretcher with more chains hanging from it. I assume they’ve been ordered to chain me to it and ship me off.

No way in fuck am I going to let that happen to me.

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