Page 40 of Throttle All the Way

Before I could even think, he yanked me backward with such force that my knees buckled. The snow burned like ice against my bare skin as I fell, but I barely felt it over the rush of terror. His laughter rumbled low and dark, sending chills down my spine.

“This game is over, Mila. And I’ve won.”

He started to drag me back, his strength overpowering my every struggle. I kicked wildly, my heels digging into the snow, trying to gain any leverage. The cold seeped into my bones, butI ignored it, using every ounce of energy to fight him. My free hand grabbed at the ground, clawing at the frozen earth, at tree roots, anything to slow him down.

“Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing harder, my legs flailing. I kicked backward, my heel slamming into his shin, and for a moment, I felt the satisfying give of his flesh.

It wasn’t enough.

His snarl ripped through the night, more animal than man. He wrenched me up from the ground as if I weighed nothing, one arm curling around my waist like a vise, pinning me against his unyielding body. “You can kick and scream all you want,” he growled, his lips brushing cruelly against my ear, “but it won’t change a damn thing. You’re mine.”

I flailed harder, twisting and jerking, my body writhing like a wild animal in a trap. I’d fight until my last breath but I couldn’t go back, not to him. My fists pounded against his chest, his arms, anywhere I could reach, but he didn’t even flinch.

The snow beneath us turned into a churned mess as he dragged me back toward the path. Each step he took was deliberate, his boots crunching through the frost, while my bare feet slid and scraped uselessly against the icy ground. I tried to dig my heels into the snow again, to anchor myself, but it was no use.

My cries echoed into the night, swallowed by the dark void around us. I clawed at his arms, reaching up to his face, raking my nails down his cheek, desperate for any sign of weakness. His head snapped to the side, a hiss escaping his lips as blood welled up in thin lines across his skin.

“Good,” he said, his tone almost amused, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “You make me hard when you fight.”

His words ignited a fresh wave of fury in me. I screamed again, my voice raw and hoarse, thrashing so violently that his hold faltered for half a second. It was all I needed. I lungedforward, trying to slip free, but he caught me again, his arms locking around me like a cage.

“You’ll regret that,” he snarled, his tone dropped into something cold and menacing. He bent down, forcing my feet off the ground, and threw me over his shoulder like I was nothing more than a sack of flour.

“No!” I shrieked, hammering my fists against his back, kicking my legs as hard as I could. My vision blurred with tears, the snowy world around us spinning as he carried me back through the frozen wasteland.

Every ounce of my strength was spent in fighting him, but it was like hitting stone. Yulian didn’t slow, didn’t stumble, didn’t stop. His grip on me was unrelenting, his body a wall of cruel determination.

The cold wind tore at my skin, but the heat radiating off him was suffocating, a reminder of the nightmare closing in around me. His laughter, deep and guttural, echoed in my ears, drowning out the pounding of my heart.

With every step he took, the last shreds of hope slipped further and further from my grasp, the realization hitting me with the force of a dagger: this was no dream. This was hell, and Yulian was its gatekeeper.

VOLKOV

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the damp chill of the room. It was intoxicating—a sweet reminder of her suffering and my triumph. Mila hung before me, her delicate wrists shackled in chains, her body a masterpiece of her pathetic attempts of rebelliousness. This is what happens when a pet thinks they can overcome their master. The chains creaked with every shallow breath she took, a rhythmic song signaling her fragility.

My pet.

I stepped closer, the soles of my boots echoing against the cold concrete floor. Her head was bowed, a curtain of disheveled hair hiding her face, but I could feel her hatred seething beneath the surface. It was palpable, like a storm waiting to break.

“Mila,” I said, my voice a low murmur that sliced through the silence. “You look exquisite like this. Vulnerable. Helpless. Exactly what you were always meant to be.”

She didn’t reply. Good. I liked it better when she saved her strength for the screams. I reached out, curling a finger under her chin and forcing her to look at me. Her eyes—those fierce, unyielding eyes—met mine, blazing with defiance despite the dark circles beneath them. A twisted grin tugged at my lips.

“Still so much fire,” I mused, brushing my thumb over the bruise blooming on her cheek. “But that’s what I love about you, Mila. Breaking you will be a pleasure.”

Her jaw clenched, that spark of rebellion igniting in her gaze. “Go to hell.”

I laughed, the sound reverberating through the room. “Darling, I’ve lived in hell my entire life. The difference is, I thrive there. But you? You’re just a passerby. Here to watch as I destroy everything around you.”

I moved to the table behind me, a gleaming array of instruments laid out with precision. Each one had a purpose, a story. I selected a blade, its edge honed to perfection, and turned back to her.

“You should thank me, you know,” I said conversationally, trailing the blade lightly down her arm. She flinched, but her glare never wavered. “Most men would’ve killed you by now. But I…” I pressed the blade against her skin, just enough to draw a thin line of crimson. “I like to savor my rewards.”

Her body tensed, her breathing ragged as I moved the blade lower to outline one of her succulent tits, teasing, taunting. I tilted my head, watching her with an almost clinical detachment.

“Do you know why you’re still alive, Mila?” I asked, sliding the knife down further and carving another shallow cut into her thigh. She winced, but her silence was defiant. “Because you’re useful. A bargaining chip. And because…” I leaned in close, my lips brushing against her ear. “I enjoy watching you break over and over again.”

I stepped back, wiping the blade clean on a pristine white cloth. “But enough foreplay. It’s time to give your protector a call, shall we?”

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