Page 6 of Defiant Devotion

It was time for me to escape. This time, Ihadto. Not just to sneak out and have sex with a stranger. I needed to get the hell out of here and end my captivity once and for all.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway outside my room, and I held my breath.

Ever since I heard the guards talking about transporting me to the city, I freaked out. Last night, two of the loudmouths were arguing about who’d get to drive and where they’d get to go after dropping me off to my fiancé.

“No. It’s your turn to drive,” one Ilyin guard said with an exasperated sigh as they walked past my locked door. Following the capture after I had sex with that tall, rugged stranger in his motel room, they’d upped the surveillance on me. The Ilyin bastards considered me more of a flight risk, ensuring that patrols passed my door around the clock now.

“I don’t care,” the guard’s companion said just as tiredly. Clearly, they were old partners, used to arguing. “I’m not in the mood to drive for three hours and?—”

“But it is your turn,” the first one repeated.

Pressing my ear to the door to better listen, I rolled my eyes and wished they’d cut out this damn arguing. Yes, yes. Neither wanted to drive. Both of them were looking forward to leaving this property. One wanted to go straight to a club, and the other was more interested in visiting a whorehouse while they were in the city.

I needed facts. I wanted details about the timing. The location. The vehicle. The more I knew, the better I could plot to get away—for good.

I have to get out of here.

Gulping down a hard swallow, my throat so dry since no one had brought me more water when I requested it, I winced and lowered my hand from the wooden surface of the door to lay it over my stomach.

Wehave to get out of here.

When I planned to thwart the Ilyins by losing my virginity before meeting my fiancé, I hadn’t considered the odds that I could end up pregnant.

From just that one interaction, that single, initial act of intimacy, and ta-da, I was pregnant.

Sure, it could happen. It only took once to get knocked up. Iknewthat. It was simple science. One sperm had to find its way to an egg and a baby would follow. One shot was all it took. Yet, the fate of that happening to me, in these circumstances, was twisted.

Evading my forced engagement was a goal. Now with a child growing inside me, though, it had become my mission.

We will get out.Promising my baby seemed foolhardy, but I stood by my wishes. I had to.

I couldn’t be handed over already pregnant. It would be too obvious of an indicator that I wasn’t the virgin they expected. It would be too clear of evidence to show that something had been reneged or changed in the deal. Offending the people who’d dared to make deals about my future and my life wasn’t the issue, but I wasn’t naïve. I was well aware that the more this deal seemed botched, the worse I would be punished for it.

“Okay, okay,” the guard said as the pair walked by my closed door again. “We’ll take her to Benson’s place, then head to the club near…”

Their words faded as they strolled further down the hall. But that was fine. I didn’t care what they wanted to do after they’d transported me.

That name mattered, though.

Benson?

I scrunched my face, thinking back for the significance. I’d heard of a Benson before, but I had no clue who it was. I couldn’t tell if I’d heard the name while I was in captivity here or if it was a moniker that seemed familiar from when I lived at home, with the Baranov family I missed so much.

Benson. Benson. Benson…

This was the first time I’d heard who my fiancé was supposed to be. Having that clue was like light coming in through the shroud of darkness and lack of knowledge they’d kept me in these past eleven years. All that time, I knew I was being held as a virginalbride forsomeonewhen they deemed the time was right. They’d thought the time was right three months ago. But it was now.

Benson…

I cringed as I concentrated, too frantic to place the name.

Someone from another Mafia family? The Bratva? A gang? The Cartel?Racking my brain didn’t help, but I was confident that the man they wanted to force me to marry had to be someone in power. My capture and forced marriage had to be a transaction of some kind, and I knew better than to think this could be a random match that they had in mind for me.

Benson?

No one came to mind, but as the footsteps went by again, I shook my head and scowled. It hardly mattered what my fiancé’s name was. It was only important to realize that I’d soon be handed off to him, whoever he was. And he wouldn’t be happy to see that I was already knocked up.

“The timing is actually in our favor,” one guard gossiped.

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