Page 98 of Captive Prize

Everything went hazy after that.

Nothing but red-hot pain surrounded by the frigid chill of blood loss that would soon lead to death.

The only other thing I remembered was seeing blue eyes, eyes that reminded me of the sky in Moscow right after itsnowed, when the clouds cleared and the world felt fresh and new. And a blanket of sparkling ice covered all the sins and depravity that soaked the ground.

That beautiful blue was the last thing I saw before the darkness took me.

I was so lost in thought, I barely noticed when the talking outside my door stopped completely.

It wasn’t until the door opened that I was back in the present moment. My stomach clenched as I waited for Roman to come in.

“Are you awake?” a soft feminine voice asked.

“Yes,” I answered in the same soft tone.

It wasn’t Roman. And that was disappointing, Two women walked into the room, one carrying a steaming black bowl and the other with a pile of folded clothes in her hands. Behind them was a man I didn’t recognize. He was tall, a scar running down his face and the way he looked at me—with a mix of interest and hatred—made my skin crawl.

“Who—”

“I’m Samara,” the one with the bowl said. “And this is Nadia.”

My eyes flicked behind them, hoping Roman was going to follow them in, but he was gone. A strange pang of disappointment shot through me.

“We are here to help get you cleaned up. And changed,” Nadia said, stepping forward and putting the clothes down on an armchair near the bed. She looked at the pitcher of water sitting in a puddle of condensation and rolled her eyes as she picked it up and grabbed a small dry towel to place under it.

“Those men of ours—animals,” she said, and Samara gave a laugh of agreement, as she set the bowl of steaming water down and picked up the washcloth that was inside.

“Under normal circumstances, we would let you take a shower, but there’s nothing normal about these circumstances.And you shouldn’t get your bandages wet,” she said, and I nodded, not sure what else to say.

The scarred man who came with them stood at the foot of the bed, his thick arms crossed over his chest as he stared at me.

“You can go,” Samara said, leveling him with a look.

“I’ve been ordered to not let you out of my sight.”

“No, you weren’t,” Nadia said, facing the man. “You were ordered to stay with us. You can do that right outside that door.”

“No—”

“That was not a question,” Samara snapped. “We will call you back in if we need your assistance.”

“It’s not safe,” he grunted.

“There are two of us. And one of her. And she was almost dead two hours ago. We’ll be fine.”

“If your husband finds out that I let you—” he growled, making himself bigger. He was impressively intimidating, but Samara and Nadia didn’t back down at all.

“You let us deal with our husbands,” Nadia said dismissively.

“Out, now. We’ll bring you back in when she is decent.”

Again, these were people who didn’t know me, who I had never had a conversation with even, and they were sticking up for me for something as simple and important as my modesty.

Most people wouldn’t have thought twice.

Tears burned behind my eyes as I realized how lonely I’d been when some simple act of kindness meant so much.

The second the door closed, Nadia came over to me with a silver key in her hand. “Please, do not prove the guard right. I’d never hear the end of it.”

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