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She nodded, and he handed her the crutches she had left propped against the kitchen counter. She was moving easier with them the more she practiced. He hoped she wouldn’t be on them too much longer, but keeping her weight off her leg and letting those wounds close was the most important thing.

Nisha picked through her suitcase, and Ten had a sudden feeling they were being watched. Kostya had video surveillance on all of his properties. Which made him wonder...

Are you watching us?

Maybe.

Kostya.

Cameras are off in the downstairs bathroom and bedroom.

Thank you.

I’m not trying to be a pervert. I’m trying to keep you safe.

I know.

Stay in the cabin.

Don’t make contact with anyone.

Do exactly as I told you.

Until?

Until we flush out this motherfucking rat and finish him.

Ten wished it would be that easy.

Chapter Thirteen

Iwasfifteenthefirst time I got pregnant.

I hadn’t even realized how many risks I was taking until it was too late. No one ever sat me down and gave me a proper sex talk. When I started my period at eleven, Mimi June handed me some too bulky pads, told me a story about keeping an aspirin between my knees, and then sent me back out to ride my bike with my neighborhood friends.

I had a vague idea about how conception worked, but it was based on that nonsense about twenty-eight-day cycles. Like—what the fuck? Why didn’t anyone ever tell us that was average? Why didn’t someone sit us down in a health class or biology and explain that sperm could live for five days after ejaculation? That we could get pregnant any time during those five days if we ovulated? It wasn’t just day fourteen that was dangerous. It was a whole bunch of them right there in the middle of the cycle.

But I didn’t know.

And, frankly, even if I had, Kiki wouldn’t have stopped anyway. I learned very quickly that I wasn’t allowed to say no. I mean, I could, but it was going to cost me. It was easier to acquiesce and let him do what he wanted. The faster he finished, the sooner it was over, the less it hurt.

That was another thing I didn’t know.

Sex was supposed to feel good for both partners, not only the man. It had only ever been painful for me. Too rough, too hard, too fast. Kiki liked to hit and bite, and I didn’t have the experience or maturity to understand that wasn’t normal. He told me it was, and I believed him because I didn’t know any better.

I really was a sweet summer child.

Naïve.

Trusting.

Gullible.

Vulnerable.

Desperate to be loved.

I convinced myself what Kiki felt for me was love. It wasn’t. It was possession. It was ownership. I was lower than a stray dog to him, and if I didn’t do exactly what he said, I was going to catch a boot to the backside—or worse.

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