Page 4 of The Hermit

It’s weird. I don’t feel the heels pinching my toes anymore.

“Move!” the man barks.

Slowly, my eyes lift to his face, and I shake my head. “No.” The word is so soft, sounding more like a puff of air.

I have no idea how much time has passed since the men stormed the mansion, and somewhere deep in my mind, voices are fighting over whether I should do as I’m told or fight for my life.

God knows what comes over me, but I yank back against his hold on my arm. I know it’s no use to fight, but I refuse to submit so they can just take me.

Sadly, I can’t free my arm, and the moment I realize I’m done for, I expect my life to flash before my eyes. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, I feel an intense loss of the life I could’ve lived.

I brace myself, waiting for the gunshot, but instead, the barrel of a machine gun slams against the side of my head. Darkness dims my vision while a sharp pain instantly makes me feel dizzy and nauseated.

“Bring her!” I hear the one in charge order, his tone annoyed and cruel.

I fight to remain conscious as I’m hauled over someone’s shoulder. I manage to let out a groan, and weirdly, I’m aware of my hair swaying as I’m carried away from the mansion.

I hear voices rumble. Engines starting.

I’m tossed on a hard surface before I hear the trunk slam shut, plunging me into darkness.

Fear grips my heart as the vehicle starts to move, and I fight to keep my eyes open, but too soon, I lose the battle to remain conscious.

Chapter 2

GRACE

“Wake up.”

Someone taps my cheek, pulling me out of the peaceful darkness.

What?

I struggle to regain control of my senses as I pry my heavy eyelids open.

There’s a throbbing pain in my temple, and my vision blurs as I glance at my surroundings.

I make out the face of a man who’s dressed in a gray suit, his light blond hair cut short and neat. Behind him is an expensive-looking desk and floor-to-ceiling windows. The view beyond is dark, giving me the impression we’re in a high rise.

I find myself sitting on a chair, my wrists tied and my hands lying limply on my lap. There’s no sign of my shoes, and the dark red lace dress I carefully selected for the party suddenly feels too revealing. Even though my breasts are fully covered, the dress has a deep cleavage.

My lips part, but I can only manage a slur of incoherent words. “Wha…pening…”

The man’s palm cups my cheek, and he smiles sinisterly at me. “Welcome back.”

His accent is thick, and realizing I’ve been taken by the Russians, a dark and hopeless feeling coats my very soul.

The bratva is ruthless. Chances are good I’m going to die.

When he steps to the side, my gaze creeps over the office before stopping on a monitor that’s mounted against one of the walls.

Dad.

Seeing Dad’s face on the screen, my heartbeat instantly speeds up, and everything that happened before I passed out flashes through my mind.

Oh God. What’s happening?

“What do you want?” Dad barks, his features set in a grim expression.

---