Page 45 of Hers to Control

Itry to turn my mind off, to sink somewhere into a place created inside of my head, but I can’t. Instead, I watch as Victor closes the distance between us, knowing what is about to happen.

The zip ties they used on my wrists and ankles cut into my flesh, but I don’t stop struggling against them. I’m helpless like this and that terrifies me. I know what the Russians make their money with. Prostitution. And not the kind where empowered women get to use their sexuality to make a profit. No, the Russians are the low-life bastards who traffic women against their will.

When he reaches me, the guy pulls a knife from the back of his pants, and for a second, I think of Eric. Does he know I was taken? He should. The high windows are letting in daylight, which means he should be back at the cabin by now.

Maybe.

Does it even make a difference?

“Can’t get to your pretty tits with this in the way.” The guy chuckles to himself as if he’s being funny. I lean away from his knife, but there isn’t anywhere for me to go. They duct-taped my upper body to the backrest of the chair, making it impossible to move. I even try to wiggle enough to make the chair tip over, but that doesn’t work either.

He reaches for my shirt and pulls at it, reigniting my desire to throw myself to the ground. It wouldn’t help me get away, not really, but just maybe I’d manage to get enough leverage to use the chair legs to defend myself.

It’s no use. His knife cuts through the duct tape and my shirt, exposing my bra.

“Nice tits.” With his good eye, Victor looks at my breasts greedily, but his words sound far away, drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through my body.

I don’t deserve this. Nobody does, but fucking hell, I shouldn’t be in this position. I did nothing wrong.

Victor’s hand lands on my right breast and squeezes me through the bra. It’s painful and disgusting, making my stomach roil.

Pushing the cup down, he twists my nipple and I bite down on my tongue to feel anything but his hands on me.

Why is this happening? My mind is screaming the question at me, but all I hear in response is my frantic breathing. With any luck, I’ll pass out from hyperventilating, but I’m done believing that I’ll ever have good luck again.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Victor kneads my breasts, again trying to pretend I’m somewhere else.

It doesn’t work.

The horror of the situation keeps pulling me back. When I open my eyes, Victor pulls his knife again, reaching out to cut my bra between the cups. It falls away to the sides, leaving me even more exposed.

Nausea overwhelms me, and this time it has nothing to do with my pregnancy and everything to do with the awfulness of the situation.

When Victor leans forward to put his mouth on me, I do the only thing I’m able to. With the duct tape around my upper body cut, I have a bit more room to move, and I let my head snap forward, leaning my body into the movement. My head connects with Victor’s and an overwhelming pain shoots through me.

It feels like I broke my skull, and I’m barely able to squint to see if I hurt Victor just as much. He’s holding his head, his right eye wide open, looking at me with anger.

“You fucking bitch!”

His knife in hand, he comes at me, and I know this time he isn’t going to cut fabric. This time, he’s going to cut me.

Knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to bear when the sharp edge of his blade cuts through my skin below my collarbone and drags down over my left breast to my belly. Hot blood runs down my skin and the searing pain forces my awareness to stay in the present even as all I want is to sink into unconsciousness.

“What’s going on here?” It’s a female voice coming from the door, and I force my eyes open to see who it is.

The woman is probably my age and looks perfectly put together in jeans, a blouse, and low heels that click on the floor as she moves further into the room.

“Your father wants me to deal with her,” Victor says, sounding annoyed by the interruption.

The woman doesn’t even bother looking his way. Instead, she inspects the open cut running down my body. “I highly doubt my father has any interest in you marking up a woman he can add to the stable.”

Victor starts to argue, but the woman just lifts her hand. “As it is, my father is upstairs and will join us shortly, so he can decide what he wants to happen. Until then, get the woman something to drink. She won’t be able to talk if she passes out on us.”

When Victor leaves the room, I fix my eyes on the woman. “Please, help me get out of here.”

She shakes her head. “No. I won’t be doing that.”

Steps in the hallway tell me I’m out of time to change her mind. A moment later, Adrik Tspov steps back into the room. My eyes catch on the cannula running under his nose and over his ears. Over his shoulder, he carries a small oxygen tank.

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