Page 112 of Wicked Arrangement

“I wasn’t needed to take over your precious wolfpack, it only took a few of us. Half the men had already joined Innokentiy, and the other half turned and ran like cowards with their tails between their legs. It was too easy,” he sneers.

“Yes, I suppose it is easy to take over when you use cowardly tactics like poisoning and killing the leader when you raised him like your own son, Innokentiy sounds like a great leader for you to be aligning yourselves with,” I reply sarcastically. “I assume the fact you’ve had a gun pointed at an unarmed, defenseless pregnant woman this whole time just to get me to comply is also evidence of the bravery of Sharkozi’s men.”

“I don’t need a gun to make you behave, trust me, this is the nicest option for you. And as for your precious wolf, he’s not dead. Innokentiy is going to have some fun with him first, same as I’m sure Sharkozi and the men will with you. Well, not exactly the same,” he leers, gripping my knee suggestively.

As vile as what he’s insinuating is, the thought that Yaroslav could be alive, even if he’s being tortured, gives me strength. I have to escape and be the one to rescue him this time. If Innokentiy is torturing him, that must mean there’ssomething he wants from him. Immediately, my mind goes to the necklace and flash drive Yaroslav gave me. I must be holding the information Yaroslav wants, which means that Yaroslav will never give it to them. He’d die before turning me and David in. It also means that whatever is on this flash drive could be the key to saving Yaroslav. And I can’t save him if I’m being held prisoner too.

As I’m wracking my brain, trying to think of how I can get out of this, the opportunity presents itself for me. As if by divine intervention, a deer darts out into the road, causing the driver to swerve to avoid it. Without thinking too much, I reach out and grab the steering wheel too, causing him to oversteer.

“Shit!” he bellows as he loses control of the car.

The car starts to roll, and we’re thrown around like rag dolls, glass smashes, and the sound of crushing metal is deafening. Everything happens so fast and yet it feels like we’re in slow motion at the same time. When we come to a standstill the car is on its side. The man next to me is unconscious, with a cut on his forehead. The car landed on his side, presumably knocking him out as it did so. I’m shaken, with some cuts and bruises, but otherwise unharmed. I hope that the same can be said for my baby. But I can’t let myself think about anything other than getting out of here now. He could wake up at any minute.

I try the handle of my door, but I know already from the angle that we’ve crashed, it’s unlikely I’ll have the strength to open it. Luckily, the rear window has shattered, and I can escape through there. The knife is still in my pocket, with some effort I retrieve it and cut myself free from my seatbelt which is locked tight. I’m grateful I was wearing it, the man beside me wasn’twearing his. I do not doubt that his injuries are more severe than mine because of this. Having freed myself from the seat, it takes all of my effort to stop myself from falling onto the unconscious man, a thought I don’t relish.

I struggle and wiggle my way toward the back of the car over the seats and debris of the crash. I’m almost free when something snags on my ankle. My initial thought is that it’s gotten caught in between the seats, but as I try to pull it free, the grip gets tighter.

“Oh no you don’t, you fucking bitch!” the man growls.

I kick and try to get away from him, but even in his injured state, the man is far stronger than me.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that you fucking whore!” he snarls like a rabid animal.

All traces of the polite gentleman he was pretending to be are now gone. He’s feral.

He lunges forward pulling himself up and me down simultaneously and twists me around. He climbs on top of me, his face inches from mine and I can smell his rancid breath.

I brandish the knife I’m still holding at him, managing to cut his arm and cheek. He grabs my wrist painfully jerking it out of my grip and my heart drops as it skitters out of reach. I’m helpless now. There’s no way I can fight him off.

“I know my orders were to bring you back alive, but I don’t think anyone’s going to give a shit if I don’t. Perhaps I could fuck you so hard that baby comes right out of you, save everyone the trouble of killing you both down the line.”

His hands grip around my throat and I start to flail around wildly as panic sets in. This can’t be how it ends for me. I can’t die like this. As I’m flailing, my hand lands on something solid and sharp. A hunting knife—which I realize he must have intended to use on me. My survival instincts kick in and using all of the strength I have, I swing my arm down in a thrusting motion, plunging the knife into his throat.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, where neither of us can believe what’s just happened.

He gurgles as the blood wells up out of his throat, and he clutches at his neck in shock. His hands are slippery with blood as he claws at the gaping wound. The blood is flowing in earnest now, cascading down onto me and I try to move away, to stop it from going in my eyes and mouth. But I can still feel it, taste it, hot and metallic as it hits me. I shove him to the side, and finally, he falls off of me. His eyes take on a glazed look as he takes his last strangled breaths.

I lie there panting, the horror of what just happened slowly dawning on me.

I just killed a man.

Chapter 57

Kimberly

Having exited the car, I sit, panting and shaking with shock over what I’ve just done. I don’t know how much time has passed, but as I come to my senses, I realize I need to move. The car rolled off the side of the road and is now hidden among some trees, but it’s only a matter of time before we’re discovered. I don’t know how I would explain this to the cops, and I certainly don’t want Sharkozi’s men to come looking for us either.

Wiping as much blood as I can off my face, I determinedly start to walk back toward the way we came from. I hope that I can find a payphone to call Grace from. I’m lucky that the roads are quiet, only a handful of vehicles pass me, all too busy going about their days to notice the bloodstained woman walking down the road.

But then a car approaches me and starts to slow down, a good Samaritan wanting to help. I contemplate running away, but figure that will only draw more attention. As I’m debating what lies to tell to explain my presence here, they wind the window down, and to my relief, I see Grace and David’s concerned faces peering out at me.

“Oh my god Kimmy, what happened?” Grace exclaims. I open my mouth to answer but before I can she continues, “Actually, get in the car first, you can explain once we’re out of here.”

I numbly do as I’m told, and as we drive away, I tell them the whole story.

“Luckily, I turned up just minutes after David saw you being taken. I’m so sorry we didn’t find you sooner, that you had to go through that,” Grace says her voice full of concern.

“It’s okay,” I reply numbly.

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