Page 69 of Kings of Cruelty

He’s not the first person to suggest it, but for some reason, it hits especially hard from him. I narrow my eyes at him, staring him down. “I’m notgetting ridof it,” I say, realizing for the first time that no matter what happens, I have no intention of“getting rid of” the baby growing inside of me. “So don’t ever, ever say that again.”

He lets out a nasty laugh. “Sierra, be real. I’m not going to raise somebody else’s baby. It has to go.”

“I said no,” I snap. “And you don’t get a say in it. Even if I was going to take you back—and I’m not—you still wouldn’t get to tell me what to do.” I scoff derisively at him. “Like I’d even let you try to raise my baby. Get out. I only needed you for your fucking car.”

The mask completely drops. James snarls at me and pulls me up against him. “What the fuck? No, you don’t get to do that. I don’t agree to it. You’remine, Sierra.”

“I’m not yours!” I shout, trying to shove at his chest—for all the good it does. He might not be a worthy opponent for Yuri or Nikolai, but he’s more than a match for me. “I don’t belong to you, and I don’t belong to anyone. Not now, not ever.”

Angry tears burn in the corners of my eyes.

James leans down for a kiss.

I’m still wearing the stylish-but-not-comfortable sandals. I slam the heel down hard on his foot, and even though he’s wearing sneakers, he yelps and releases me.

I dash away from him, but I only get two steps before he grabs my wrists and slams me against the wall.

“Fuck you, Sierra,” James says with a sneer. “Slut bitch, leading me on like that. But don’t worry. I’ll convince you.” His eyes go to my stomach. “But first, I get rid of this fucking problem.”

I don’t understand what he means until he raises his fist and brings it down against my stomach.

Pain blossoms through me as I double over, then fall to the floor, but it’s not over.

He hits me again, and again, and like in every other aspect of my life, a man erases my ability to choose what happens to my body.

EIGHTEEN

Yuri

I’min the middle of watching a dirt bike race on the internet when my phone buzzes. I consider ignoring it, but it’s from Kotya so I sigh, pause the vid, and pick up.

“Come downstairs. There’s a problem,” Kotya says in terse Russian.

“Problem? What problem?” I ask, confused as to how he can have a problem while on a date with Sierra.

Actually, why is he back so early? I was sure his double date would run long since he’d wanted to discuss a few things with Giulio Pavone.

I get off the bed, shut the laptop screen, and scowl. “A few things” being how best to offload the women we’ll be receiving from Andronov. Maybe he managed to piss off Pavone and we’re gearing up for a full scale mafia war now.

Nikolai is there already when I get to the front entrance. Kotya is yelling at the guards, something aboutletting her get away.

“What’s going on?” I ask Nikolai, my hackles raised.

His expression is grim. “Um, the long version or the short version?” he asks. “Because it’s still a doozy no matter how I tell you.” He glances at Kotya.

Kotya turns to me, and I recoil from the fury in his expression.

“Her phone. We have a tracker in it, right?” he demands.

There’s only one “her” it could be. I nod. “Uh, yeah. I can pull up the app… Why? Where is she? Did Pavone take her?”

“Ah… No,” Nikolai says. “She found out he’s working with Pavone, freaked out, and took the car and bailed. She probably went to her brother’s, but we don’t know yet.”

I can tell he’s dying to say, “I told you so,” but he refrains.

“Took the car?” I repeat, bewildered. “How did she take the car?”

Kotya sneers and points to the driver. “This fucking braindead asswipe let her take the keys from his hand! And didn’t think to stop her from driving off!”

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