Page 82 of Blood Oath Christmas
I click on the contact’s name and, after a brief hesitation, lift the phone to my ear. This is going to change everything.
“Hello?” the familiar voice I haven’t heard in years sounds from the other end.
“Ivy needs help.”
45
IVY
The cot creaks beneath me as I shift for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour. The thin, ratty blanket does nothing to ward off the chill that seems to seep through the concrete walls of this godforsaken room. I pull my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible in this closet they've trapped me in.
Stupid. So incredibly stupid.
I should have listened to Konstantin. Should have stayed safe behind the estate walls with guards and protection. But no, I had to be stubborn. I had to think meeting Agent Cole, at night, alone, was a good idea. Now look where that brilliant decision has landed me—in what amounts to a concrete box with a three-legged table and a door that might as well be made of titanium for all the good it does me.
The worst part? I have no idea why Vadim hasn't killed me yet.
I mean, that was the whole point, wasn't it? Get rid of me before I could testify against him. The trial is in just a few days, and here I am, very much alive and very much his prisoner.What is he waiting for? Some grand finale? Does he want Konstantin to watch?
My stomach churns at the thought, and I press my hand against my mouth, willing myself not to be sick. The morning sickness has been getting worse, and the stress of this situation certainly isn't helping. I can't afford to throw up now. Instinctively, I know that if my captors realize I’m pregnant, that’s just more ammunition to use against Konstantin. Or myself.
I force myself to take slow, steady breaths through my nose. In and out. In and out. The nausea subsides slightly, but the guilt? That's a different story entirely.
Konstantin is probably losing his mind right now. I can picture him pacing his office, that muscle in his jaw ticking the way it does when he's trying to control his temper. Those green eyes of his will be stormy, dangerous. He'll be blaming himself, thinking he should have protected me better, when really, this is all my fault.
I push myself off the cot and pace the small space again, running my hands along the walls for the dozenth time, searching for any weakness, any way out. The concrete is solid, unforgiving. No windows, no vents big enough to crawl through, nothing that could even remotely be used as a weapon. Even the three-legged table is bolted to the floor.
The steel door mocks me from across the room. I've already tried pushing, pulling, and kicking, but it doesn't budge. And I can hear at least two men stationed outside, their voices a low murmur through the thick metal. Occasionally, one of them laughs, and the sound makes my skin crawl.
They took my purse when they grabbed me off the street. My phone, my wallet, everything. But more importantly, they took the thumb drive.
My heart sinks every time I think about it. That drive contains information that could destroy Konstantin, things that could put him away for life if they fell into the wrong hands. I'd planned to give it to Agent Cole, to use it as leverage to get Konstantin to step back from the more violent aspects of his business. I wanted him safe, wanted us to have a future that didn't involve constantly looking over our shoulders.
But if Vadim gets his hands on that information? If he uses it against Konstantin?
I sink back onto the cot, burying my face in my hands. I don’t want to hurt Konstantin, but I want to protect my child, too.
A wave of nausea hits me again, stronger this time, and I have to grip the edge of the cot to keep from doubling over. The baby. Our baby. Konstantin doesn't even know yet, and now there's a very real chance he never will.
The thought brings tears to my eyes, but I blink them back. Crying won't help anyone right now. I need to stay strong, stay alert. If an opportunity to escape presents itself, I have to be ready to take it.
But as the hours drag by, that opportunity seems less and less likely. The men outside the door change shifts, but there are always at least two of them. I can hear them talking in Russian, their voices casual, relaxed. They're not worried about my escaping.
I take another deep breath, forcing myself to think clearly. The men outside are getting comfortable, maybe even complacent. They've been here for hours, and nothing has happened. They probably think this is easy money. Just babysit the boss's prisoner until he decides what to do with her.
But they don't know Konstantin the way I do. They don't know that he'll move heaven and earth to get me back. That he'll call in every favor, use every resource at his disposal. That he won't rest until I'm safe in his arms again.
The thought of those arms, strong and protective around me, makes my chest tight with longing. I want to feel his hands in my hair, want to hear his voice telling me everything will be okay. I want to see that dimple appear when he smiles, want to trace the dragon tattoo that winds up his throat.
I want to tell him about the baby.
A sudden commotion outside the door makes me freeze. Raised voices, the sound of running footsteps. One of the guards is shouting something in Russian, his voice sharp with alarm. There's a crash, like something heavy hitting the wall, followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
My heart starts pounding as I recognize one of the voices cutting through the chaos. Deep, commanding, absolutely furious.
Konstantin.
Relief floods through me so fast, it makes me dizzy. He found me. Of course he found me. I should have known he wouldn't let Vadim keep me, wouldn't let anyone hurt what belongs to him.
