Page 103 of Unspoken

Kolya punches up his bushy eyebrow. "You will give me something in return?" A dry chuckle leaves his mouth.

I nod.

His eyes flicker with a hint of amusement, "What do you have,patzan?"

"I’ve got skills," I suggest. My stomach riots at the idea of what I’m saying to this arsehole right now, but this is the only way to escape I can think of. I just hope it works.

"What skills? Skills to drive me crazy?"

"No." I pause. "Skills to make you feel good."

There’s a long moment of silence. Kolya’s reaction seems to be lost somewhere on the way out. Finally, his face reddens. "What the fuck are you talking about,pridurok?"

"You know what I’m talking about. I bet you got a hard-on from watching me beg, right?"

"Shut up!"

"I can take care of that. In exchange for water. No one has to know."

Kolya’s face is like one huge tomato all of a sudden. He bunches his fingers into a fist and points that fist at me. "I’m going to fuck you up if you say another word."

"I'm dying of thirst in here, mate," I keep on driving my point home, still unsure if Kolya’s even going to catch the bait. "Let me do you a favor you won't forget," I say, putting on my most seductive smile. It's disgusting, but what choice do I have?

Kolya strides across the room, his massive figure looming over me. "Say that again, faggot," he hisses out. His hand flies out to grab my hair. My scalp is on fire, eyes stinging.

"I swear I’m good at keeping secrets," I mutter through the forming tears, grabbing onto his meaty leg. "I may die any minute. Your boss has it out for me and my brother. I haven’t had cock in a while. I’ll suck you fucking dry. You’ll love it, mate." I’ve never felt so dirty and so used and so ashamed of myself as right now, but pain and hunger make you do reckless things.

Kolya pulls on my hair harder and I swear I’m about to lose my head when he finally whispers, "First you suck, then water."

He releases my hair and I flop to the floor.

"Come on." He gestures, fumbling with his zipper. I suppress the bile rising in my throat and get back on my knees. "Allow me," I offer, reaching for his belt. "I promise, this will be the best you've ever had."

He grunts, a non-committal sound.

Teeth gritted together, my mouth wages its own war against the surging tide of nausea. Desperate not to set free that river of vomit, I do what has to be done—unbuckling Kolya’s belt slowly and painfully, then sliding down his pants. The pungent scent of stale sweat mingling with the scent of mustard assaults my nose, and I seek denial in non-existence, at least for a beat.

But as soon as Kolya’s distracted, I make my move. I nick the gun from his holster and zero it on his leg. Logan's instructions from our time at the shooting range float to the surface of my mind immediately.

My fingers squeeze life out of the trigger.

You hesitate, you die.

Bam!

"Motherfuc—" Kolya swears in Russian, crumbling to the floor. His hands shoot out to grab me, but I slam him in the gut with the blunt end of the gun. There’s blood on the floor. His blood, spilling from the wound I inflicted. Only, there’s no time to think about what I’ve done. I snatch the keys from his belt and scramble for the door.

Freedom is just fingertips away now—I can’t allow anything or anyone to barricade this portal out of here. Not even my own conscience.

I’m a Solovey after all. Hurting people is in my blood, whether I want it or not.

CHAPTER 35

LOGAN

The stench of sweat, blood, and gunpowder clings to my clothes as I stand in the shadowy corner of the office at Purgatory. There’s music, thumping outside the room. The night is in full swing with unassuming people dancing and drinking below. Vlad's men are slumped in chairs, nursing their wounds. One poor bastard took a bullet to the thigh and a guy by the name Hector dragged him down somewhere called "the warehouse" for Doc to patch up. It was a goddamn ambush out there and we walked right into it.

How have I not put two and two together before things got bloody, I don’t know.

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