Page 105 of Wicked Sinner
Matvey laughs. “That’s not going to happen, sweetheart. You can hold onto that little hope all you like, but he’s not going to win this one. I have the advantage. I’m prepared for him to come and get you, remember? I set this up. He’s walking into a trap.”
“He’ll expect it to be a trap.” I lift my chin. “And he’ll fight like hell to get me back.”
Whatever misgivings I have about a future with Caesar, whatever my fears and uncertainties, that isn’t one of them. He’ll do whatever he has to in order to get me back, I know that. I don’t know if he’ll be successful, but I do know he’ll do everything he can.
That’s a hope I can cling to, at least.
Matvey chuckles, standing to his feet. “We’ll see how it plays out, won’t we? For now, get comfortable, Bridget. And think if there’s anything you’d like to say to your husband before he dies.”
With that, he turns on his heel and strides out, the door locking behind him and leaving me there.
I blow out a sharp breath, my pulse thudding in my throat. I don’t know how much time I have—how long it will take for Caesar to find me, for it to come down to him or Matvey winning. One way, my baby and I live—the other, we die.
I’m not about to leave it all up to Caesar, no matter how certain I am that he’s going to come for me, and that he’s not going to let Matvey win easily.
I go back to working on the zip ties, and after another twenty minutes, I finally feel the plastic give way on my wrists. I lean forward, keeping an eye on the door while I work on the ties around my ankles. If it opens, I need to get back to looking as if my arms are restrained quickly.
The ties around my ankles are tougher, but I manage to loosen them enough that I think I can slip out if I need to. Now I just have to wait for the right opportunity.
It comes sooner than expected. The scarred man comes back into the room alone, probably to check on me. He's careless, assuming I'm still completely helpless, and he gets too close.
I surge up from the chair, my freed hands going for his gun. I don’t wait to think if it’s a good idea or not—I don’t have a betterplan than this, but I can’t do nothing. He's stronger than me, but I have the element of surprise.
The gun is in my hands, and I momentarily hesitate, searching for the safety. I’ve never shot a gun—I don’t actually know how, other than having watched movies. The scarred man goes to grab it out of my hands, cursing in a flurry of Russian, and we both grapple for control of the gun, the weapon dangerously out of both of our control.
I shove my knee up, hitting him in the groin hard. The gun clatters to the floor, going off as it’s wrenched out of both of our hands, and I lurch for it, but the scarred man grabs me around the waist, throwing me down to the floor hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs.
The sound of the gun going off is deafening in the small room, and I hear shouts from outside as the other two men burst in. They see the scarred man holding me down and the lost gun on the floor, and they don't hesitate to draw their own weapons.
In a matter of minutes, as all three men descend on me, I’m forced back into the chair. This time, they use proper restraints—handcuffs that I won't be able to slip out of. I feel my stomach lurch as they click shut, and tears of frustration prick at the backs of my eyes. I’m right back where I started.
“Good try,” the scarred man snarls, still clearly in pain. “But you’re still going to die.”
He leaves again, and I'm alone with my thoughts and my fear. But underneath the fear is still that sliver of hope. This isn’t over yet.
Caesar will come for me. I know he will. And when he does, Matvey is going to learn exactly what happens when someone threatens what belongs to Caesar Genovese.
I just have to stay alive long enough for him to find me.
The hours crawl by. I’m brought water and a sandwich, my hands cuffed in front of me long enough to let me eat, but I can’tstomach much of it. They handcuff my arms behind me again, once it’s taken away.
I can hear them talking outside, their voices growing more tense as time passes. They're expecting Caesar to show up, but there's no sign of him yet. I find myself straining to hear every sound, hoping for the rumble of engines or the sound of approaching footsteps that might signal rescue.
Matvey returns a little while after my food is taken away, a smirk on his face. “It’s possible that your husband has decided that rescuing you isn’t worth the risk after all. Perhaps I’ll have to resort to more convincing measures. Send him a finger, perhaps. Or a part of your body that he’s more connected to.” His gaze flicks over me, and I feel my skin crawl.
“He’ll come for me.” My voice is still confident, but I’m starting to worry. Not about Caesar coming to find me, but about what might be taking so long. If there’s more to this than I know, or if someone has stopped him from coming.
"Will he?” Matvey smirks. “Or will he decide that one pregnant woman isn't worth the risk?"
I meet his eyes steadily. I know he’s toying with me, and I’m determined not to let him see me worry. "You don't know him at all."
Matvey studies me for a long moment. "You really believe that, don't you? That he'll risk everything for you."
"I know he will."
"Are you sure?” He looks at me curiously. “Tell me, Bridget—if Caesar had to choose between saving you and keeping his position as head of the Genovese family, which do you think he'd choose?"
The question settles in my stomach like a stone. Because the truth is, I don't know for sure. I want to believe I know what Caesar would choose, but our relationship is still so new, so complicated by everything that came before. If Konstantin foundout about this and gave him the choice between saving me and knowing he’d inherit, that he’d be given the chance to prove everything to himself that he feels he needs to… would he let me go? The thought makes me feel sick.
