Page 40 of Capturing Victory

“Get the fuck out,” he snarled.

She reached for the door with shaking hands, pushing it open. She glanced down at the blood that flowed freely from her arm to drip onto the doorframe and the concrete below. As she gripped the door with her good hand and pulled herself out, she wondered exactly how bad she’d cut herself. She’d been too preoccupied with escape to really pay attention before. But now that the garage was beginning to swim around her, she thought perhaps the blood loss was somewhat significant.

Something else caught her attention, something that sparkled for a second in the dim lighting of the underground tunnel. She forced her darkening vision to focus on her left hand as she carefully rounded the car toward Ivan. She was still wearing a beautiful diamond solitaire engagement ring. She let out a weak, bitter laugh. It was perfect. A large, beautifully cut square diamond set in a simple claw with a white gold band. Somehow the ring he’d thrust onto her finger just before she’d unleashed chaos in the jewellery store was exactly the ring she would have chosen.

As soon as she was close enough Ivan gripped her shoulder and dragged her around the front of the car, pushing her back against the hood. He pinned her, his fingers wrapping around her neck. Even in his anger, his grip wasn’t overly tight, his fingers not hurtful. She could feel the tension thrumming from his body, his arm and through to his hand. He fought with himself, struggled to maintain his cool.

“Tell me why,” he snarled.

Jaya blinked up at him, trying to stave off the black fuzziness that ate at the edges of her vision. She licked her lips and shook her head sadly. “I w-was always going to run,” she said quietly. “You knew that, Ivan. A part of you wants to test me, see if I’ll finally stay, but deep down you know I’ll always run. Because you can’t keep something that doesn’t want you unless you keep it locked up.”

His fingers squeezed just a little tighter, a reminder of her fragility. “I know,” he growled, acknowledging the truthfulness of her words. “That wasn’t what I was asking. I want to know why I didn’t shoot her to punish you.” He flicked his gun back toward Ndari who squeaked and jumped back a step. “We both know I would have. There’s no conscience stopping me.”

Jaya studied him, feeling her consciousness begin to slip away. She blinked a few more times, forcing herself back to wakefulness. She glanced at Ndari who was hovering with a look of deep concern on her face. Jaya wanted to tell her to run, to save herself in case Ivan changed his mind and killed her in bloody retaliation for Jaya’s escape attempt. But she needed to stay awake long enough to have this conversation.

“You can’t love me… can you?” The words burst from her lips in a denial, but as soon as she saw rage morph his features for a split second she knew she was correct.

He stood, looming over her, his stormy eyes taking her in her sadly bedraggled state. There was no sympathy evident in his gaze. “Anyone else would be well past dead for the things you have said and done to me.”

Her lips parted as she took in his words. The intensity, the meaning. “You love me,” she whispered.

“Of course,” he snarled. “Only a sadistic fuck like me would fall in love and do what I’ve done to you. Would lock up a woman and throw away the key. Which is exactly what I’m doing, Jaya. This thing between us is forever. Consider it as good as a marriage.”

“Dear god,” she whispered.

She should have run farther, faster. Should’ve just run him over when he stepped in front of the car. Because now he knew her thoughts, her desperate need to escape and return to Father. Now he would never trust her, would watch her every move. It could be months, years even, before another opportunity to leave arose. She was well and truly fucked.

He said something else, his hands tightening on her, but she didn’t hear. She finally allowed herself to succumb to the swirling blackness that had been threatening to swallow her up. It was safer than contemplating a future as Ivan’s wife.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It occurred to Jaya, as she fought to swim back through the currents of her fuzzy mind toward wakefulness, that she’d never in her life been unconscious until she met Ivan. She’d never needed surgery, never been knocked out or hit in the head. Her luck had definitely taken a turn for the worse when she met the evil arms dealer with a penchant for drugging her and placing her in extreme situations. Perhaps, she would mention this when the shitstorm of his inevitable anger came down upon her head.

His was the first voice she recognized as she began to wake up. His deep baritone was a sharp reprimand that she couldn’t escape, though she didn’t think she was the recipient of his displeasure this time. She tried to lift her lashes, tried to move her limbs as she waded toward the low murmur of voices, but couldn’t seem to get her own body to respond to her commands. As though he knew she was surfacing, Ivan’s voice drifted closer, his lips brushing against the edge of her ear, his voice taking on a quieter tone, though she still heard the dark promise within, the need to deliver pain as he spoke. “Take it slow, Jaya. You lost a lot of blood.”

She tried to speak, but no sound emerged. She sucked her lips in, wetted them, and tried again. “Ndari…” she whispered.

Jaya could sense Ivan’s disappointment. His hand fell on her body, ran down from her shoulder, where his thumb briefly caressed her collar bone before falling to her arm and wrapping around it possessively as if to remind her to whom she belonged, of her current fragility. That she shouldn’t be asking for someone else while at his mercy. She wanted to explain her desperate need to make sure that the other woman still lived, that he hadn’t punished her while Jaya was asleep. She didn’t trust him. But she was too weak to do more than murmur for her companion and pray that he would comply.

He shifted on the mattress next to her and turned to say sharply to someone, “Get the princess.”

“Yes sir.” The voice belonged to Keane. She heard a door shut. Jaya let out a sigh, happy her friend was still alive.

As the seconds ticked by, silence weighed heavily in the room. Ivan’s hands felt like chains, pinning her to the bed beneath her back, though his hold wasn’t hard. Somehow the intent within his heart bled through his veins, making the air around them stormy and sinister. Though the last thing Jaya wanted to do was face him, she forced her eyes open and turned her head. What she saw chilled everything within her. His face was like granite, much the same as when she’d first met him. Except for his eyes; his eyes were on fire. They held possession, love, anger and punishment. He didn’t even attempt to hide his truth from her. He wanted her to know everything he felt.

She shivered and looked away, glancing around the room. She was back in the bedroom she shared with Ivan, tucked carefully beneath the covers. She looked down at her arm, resting on top of a pillow. It was wrapped in a thick bandage from wrist to elbow. She asked in a tentative voice, “How bad?”

“Sixteen stitches,” he said coolly. “You didn’t need a blood transfusion, though it was close. I had the best plastic surgeon in the city brought in to make sure the stitching was flawless.”

She nodded and flexed her fingers then curled them as though about to type on a keyboard. Pain shot through her arm. She winced and relaxed the muscles, allowing her arm to drop back onto the pillow. Ivan watched dispassionately. “I-is there any permanent damage?” she asked hesitantly.

He didn’t answer for a moment. She glanced back at him, studying his face. She knew exactly what he was thinking; the same thing as she. He was replaying each moment of her escape up to and including the moment she got hurt and then every minute after until he recaptured her. His face darkened as their eyes met and his hand fell on her good wrist, tightening while he thought about how close he came to losing her.

“No permanent damage,” he growled.

She stared up at him helplessly and watched the storm brewing within. She knew something awful was coming but didn’t know what. He’d admitted to loving her. But he was not a good man. So what did being loved by a man like Ivan Vogel mean? She suspected she was about to find out.

“You betrayed me,” he said, ice and fury clashing in his voice. She could feel the barely leashed vibrations running through him.

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