Page 27 of Avidian
“I don’t suppose you’d like to sweeten the deal by lending her to me?” Boris asks.
I almost take a step back but catch myself, forcing my feet to stay planted and my face to remain unreadable.
“She’s not a common whore,” Marco says coolly. “You can find one of those, and it would cost you a lot less.”
I silently thank him for that, even if his defense has nothing to do with my dignity and everything to do with preserving his property.
“I want you to think about this deal with Viktor,” Marco continues, “and think about what I can offer you instead. You see her now in the flesh. Wouldn’t you rather this than what’s downstairs?”
Downstairs.
The word lands like a punch to the gut.
Fuck.
Is that where Viktor keeps the other Avids? I keep my face perfectly neutral, but inside my thoughts are racing. I need to pay attention when we leave—every turn, every landmark, every detail.
I need to come back here with Malachi and get everyone out.
“You’ve piqued my interest enough to make me think I’ll pay your district a visit when you return home.”
I can already tell Marco is silently basking in this victory. He doesn’t show it outwardly, but the way he carries himself now—the slight lift of his shoulders, the glint in his eye—makes it obvious. He’s pulled it off. He’s managed to sway one of Viktor’s clients, turning him against his own brother.
“I look forward to it. I’ll be in touch in a couple of weeks,” Marco replies.
Thank God,I think, relieved. We’re leaving. Finally.
Marco and Boris shake hands again, and I make a point not to look at Boris at all as Marco leads me out of the room.
This time, Marco turns us right, leading me down a different hallway. I think I hear the faint hum of whispers brushing against my ears. At the end of the hallway, a side door waits, but before we reach it, Marco stops abruptly.
He turns to face a stairwell that descends into pitch darkness, and the sound hits me. Clanging metal, the echo of bars being rattled. Faint, ghostly whispers of voices too distant to make out, but unmistakably human.
“I would take you down there,” Marco whispers. “to remind you of your place and how bad things could be. But I know you would never try to escape again, would you?”
It’s the closest he’s come to being openly cruel in a long time. It feels like a slap, even though I hold myself in check. I haven’t tried to escape in years. But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking about it.
I shake my head, forcing myself to stay composed. Try to escape? No. Kill you? Absolutely.
I glance toward the stairwell, my heart sinking. There are people down there. Avids. I can feel it in my gut, and the sounds only confirm it. Who knows what kind of conditions they’re being kept in or where they’re going to end up?
This only solidifies my decision to help Malachi. Even if I can’t stand him, he’s my only chance at ever making areal difference. I can’t keep burying this, pretending it doesn’t matter. Staying complacent in my pretty prison isn’t survival anymore—it’s surrender. And it’s turning me into someone I don’t recognize.
“Let’s go,” Marco says, pulling open the side door. The rush of cold air hits me like a slap, sharp and bracing, but it’s a welcome change. As I follow him back to the SUV, I make a silent vow to myself.
I won’t bury this anymore.
I can’t.
Chapter Nine
RULE 9 OF THE NEW ORDER: IN DESPERATE TIMES, EVERY MOVE IS SURVIVAL. NEVER JUDGE ANOTHER’S ACTIONS—YOU DON’T KNOW THE BATTLES THEY’RE TRULY FIGHTING.
“I thoughtyou said the relationship with my father was completely platonic,” Malachi says as he waltzes into my room without so much as a knock.
I really need to start locking my door. I’m not used to people barging in. At least Marco’s men have the decency to knock when they’re sent to retrieve me.
“It is. Why would you say that?” I sit up in bed and flick on the lamp beside me, squinting against the sudden light. I’d just gotten under the covers and turned everything off, ready to sleep. Now, I’m regretting not securing the door.
