Page 51 of Inheritance
“Come,” he commanded, gesturing vaguely as he unlocked the chain and pulled.
I staggered after him, barely keeping my balance. Below, row upon row of black cars lined the driveway. Men—maybe two dozen—were stripping jackets, putting on bulletproof vests. A gun rack was being carried toward them by two big men.
A wave of nausea rolled through me. My hands trembled.
“Gabriel will kill you,” I whispered.
Ivan seemed delighted by my defiance.
“Soon you’ll understand just how hopeless your situation is, and how weak he truly was.”
He turned to me, his face adopting a gentler, more unsettling expression. He dragged the back of his hand down the side of my face.
“Don’t worry, once he’s?—”
I snapped forward, sinking my teeth into his hand, punching, clawing at him. He jerked but I clamped down harder. Blood flooded my mouth, thick and metallic. Now was my chance. The chain was unlocked, all his men were in one place.
His knee drove into my stomach. I collapsed onto my hands and knees, gasping for air.
His blood pattered onto the floor in sharp, thick drops.
“You fucking bitch,” he growled, circling me. I heard the slip of leather on leather, the jingle of a belt buckle.
“Remember my two men from the club? Had they succeeded, you wouldn’t have even remembered. But this—this, you’ll never forget.”
I felt his rough hands at my waist. My heart pounded in my ears.
Without warning, his hands stilled, the hard grip weakening—uncertain, almost hesitant.
“Fuck!” he shouted. Straightening abruptly, he paced, running a bloody hand through his hair, slicking one side backflatter than the other. His gaze flickered toward Caroline’s door, like he was worried she might be listening—watching through the crack under the door.
I closed my eyes and heard him locking the chain.
I stayed where I was, eyes closed, breathing hard. Staying still until I was sure he was gone, until the blood dried, until the soup was cold.
Sophia
Iwoke up to hands on me.
Rough, fast, silent. Two men, maybe three, dragging me off the couch. Big hands clamped tight around my wrists. One shoved my head down, the other grabbed under my arms, and I was moving—barefoot and breathless—across cold floors I couldn’t see in the dark.
“Get off me!” I thrashed uselessly.
They carried me into Caroline’s room. The chain dragged across the floor as they looped it around a bolt embedded in the tile.
I screamed, remembering what almost happened earlier that day.
But they didn’t hurt me, didn’t touch me more than was necessary to get me here.
The door slammed. I was alone again.
No—not alone.
A soft whimper broke the cold silence.
In the far corner of the room, Caroline sat curled against the wall.
Her wrists were bound in front of her, a length of chain linking her to a bolt at the base of the wall. Her knees werepulled to her chest, her head resting against them. She didn’t look up right away.
