Page 160 of Vendetta Vows

"If you don't want me to hurt her, then you'll do exactly as I say, Jamie." His voice drops lower to a terrifying softness that threatens unspeakable violence. "You know what I want. No bodyguards, no Russian husband. Just you."

My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold the phone. "Where?"

"I'll text you the address. You have three hours." He pauses, and I hear the sound of metal. Handcuffs, maybe. "If you're not here by then, or if someone else other than you comes for me. Well, you remember what happened last time, don't you?"

"Please," I choke out. "Please don't!"

"Don't make me do this again, Jamie," he whispers softly, sounding almost apologetic. "Don't make me become a monster."

I hang up the phone, my entire body trembling so violently I have to sit on the edge of the bed to keep from collapsing.

"Breathe," I whisper to myself. "Just breathe."

My phone buzzes with an incoming text. The address stares back at me from the screen, somewhere on the outskirts of LA. Three hours. I have three hours before he kills Hannah.

The thought of Hannah in Kristofer's hands—those same hands that murdered my family—propels me into action.

I rise from the bed and step out of my room, stumbling slightly as I hurry down the hallway.

I spot Daria coming up the stairs, her face pinched with concern.

"Aurora," she begins, but I cut her off.

"I need a car," I gasp. "Right now."

Daria's eyes widen at my disheveled appearance. "What's happened? Are you all right?"

"Please, there's no time to explain. I just need a car. No escort. No bodyguards. Just me."

She shakes her head firmly. "I cannot send you out without an escort. Ruslan Vitalyevich would never allow it."

"I have to go alone," I insist, my voice breaking. "Please, Daria."

"Tell me what's wrong," she says, reaching for my arm. "Let me help you."

Frustration and fear bubble up inside me. "He has Hannah." Tears spill down my cheeks. "Kristofer has Hannah and he's going to kill her if I don't go alone."

Understanding dawns on Daria's face. "We should tell Ruslan Vitalyevich."

"No!" I grab her arm. "If anyone else shows up, he'll kill her. He said that I have to go alone or she dies."

"I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger," Daria says firmly. "At least let me?—"

Desperation claws at my throat. I draw myself up and say the words I heard Ruslan use just now: "Eto moi prikaz."

Daria's face hardens. "You are not a pakhan. You have no right to use those words."

"I'll use whatever fucking words necessary to save my friend," I snarl, all pretense of politeness gone. "Either get me a car right now or I swear to God I'll walk out of here and find my own way there."

The pain in Daria's eyes tells me everything. She understands what I'm about to do, what I must do.

"Come with me," she finally says, her voice resigned.

I follow her down a service corridor I've never seen before, my hands still trembling as my mind races through scenarios of what Kristofer might be doing to Hannah. Each possibility is worse than the last.

Daria pushes open a heavy metal door to reveal a massive garage. Before me are at least twenty vehicles, ranging from practical SUVs to sleek sports cars.

"Jesus," I whisper, momentarily distracted by the sheer wealth on display.

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