Page 81 of Wicked Oath

“By the looks of the scars… horrific things,” Jude says bluntly.

“She looks dead, only her body doesn’t know it yet.” Ashley says. “That poor girl…. He’s brainwashed her.”

“She’s desperate for peace,” I say. “But she’s alive.”

“And in Russia,” Chris says.

“With this video, I have narrowed it down to a two-mile range outside Moscow. Ned has some connections and…”

“We are going to Russia,” I say matter-of-factly.

“We are going to Russia,” Jude says with a smile. “He’s a cocky son of a bitch who just signed his death certificate.”

“Do you want me to come, or—“ Ashley starts to ask.

“Yes,” Jude says. “And when we get her back, you tell her immediately. That better be the first fucking thing out of your mouth. She deserves the truth right away rather than healing her, only to destroy her again because you hid it.”

“No offense, Ashley, but…”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she says before I can. “And I’m not just saying that because I know you regret it.”

“And Talon,” Jude says.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“No more drinking. Ever. Got it?” he says.

“Yeah… I’ve got it,” I say.

“I’m serious,” he says. “You’re turning into an alcoholic, and she doesn’t need that. She has been through so much and she will have a long journey ahead of her. The last thing she needs is you being a drunk.”

“I know,” I say. “Get rid of it so I’m not tempted.”

“I already handled that,” Chris says.

“When do we leave?” I ask.

“Right now,” Ned says from the doorway. “Flight leaves in an hour with or without us.”

“Let’s go get our girl,” I say, finally finding the drive to push forward past my grief.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Delaney

Day 180

I’ve been here sixmonths, and I feel as though I am just moving through life devoid of emotion or any real thought of my own. I haven’t written to Talon in weeks because I no longer see the use. He’ll never read it and all it does it drag up memories that hurt. I decided a while ago that if I wanted to survive, I had to just give in to him. I broke willingly to make the pain go away. I still have the urge to leap out of the windows, but I don’t. I just sit at the window and look out. Shit, I haven’t even left this property. He always says he’s going to take me somewhere, but he doesn’t. In fact, he’s been gone until late at night for days now. He comes in smelling like another woman,so the fact that I can hear some bitch moaning tells me that he brought someone home this time. I don’t know why that makes me mad, but it does. I was beaten bloody so many times, water boarded, electrocuted, choked, slapped, and threatened with every weapon in this house. I went through all of that to see a shred of compassion from him so why does some other whore get what I have nearly died to obtain? I don’t even want it, but I keep finding myself seeking him out. He is the only person I have talked to for six months, so maybe I am just dependent on him for human connection.

I walk into the living room, and he has some blonde girl bent over the arm of the couch. I ignore him and grab her by the hair. He laughs and backs up so I can shove her toward the door. “Out!” I yell at her. She looks at Sergei in confusion. He says something to her in Russian and she leaves without hesitation.

“Jealous, Kukla?” he asks, running his thumb over my bottom lip.

“Get it out of your system?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” he asks with a smirk.

“You keep coming home smelling like a cheap whore came on your face and you haven’t touched me at all,” I say. “Should I expect another woman to be moving in?”

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