Page 60 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

He turns to me. Something about the expression behind his eyes scares me. I can’t pinpoint what it is exactly. But I’ve met enough bad friends of my father to know true danger when I see it.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

His eyes dip slightly, tracing down my lips, my throat, my chest. My skin tingles. It’s almost as though he’s touching me.

I tug his coat over myself like a blanket and the moment is broken. He turns away from me again.

“I’m not going to just take this lying down, you know,” I announce. “I’m not just going to meekly accept whatever you decide to do to me.”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks resolutely out of the tinted windows.

I probably should concentrate on where we’re going, but I’m too worked up and too scared to focus on details.

“My father has friends,” I say, my voice pitching up with hysteria. “They’re not just going to accept this. Someone will help me and—”

“Enough!” He raises his voice only a fraction higher, but it feels like he’s screaming at me. “That’s enough. I want silence now.”

“Who do you think I am?” I snarl at him. “I’m not about to follow your commands like some kicked dog!”

Artem sighs and nods once more to the man sitting opposite me.

I whip my head back and forth between Artem and Goon #1.

“What was that?” I demand. “What’d you… what—no…!”

Before I can even finish my sentence, the goon reaches for me with something clutched in his hands.

I scream, but none of the men in the car seem bothered in the least.

Not even when the goon tightens a gag around my mouth.

My scream devolves into a wordless whimper as I’m bound and gagged.

The bindings on my wrists are tight. I strain against them uncomfortably, but it takes just a few seconds of mindless thrashing to realize that they’re not going anywhere.

I have to fight back tears as I sink back against the leather seats.

I’ve lost this fight.

Only now does Artem finally look at me.

Figures—of course I’d have to be bound and gagged before he deigns to spare a real glance in my direction.

I stare straight ahead, ignoring him.

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.

The car bumps along the road, headed for what I can only assume is a place worse than the one I just left.

I always assumed that my father’s death would one day set me free.

Turns out that was just wishful thinking from a girl who was too naïve for her own good.

Papa’s dead now—Artem said so himself.

But I’m not free, nor will I ever be if I remain in this toxic world of violence and power. The only way I can be happy, the only way I can protect the child in my womb… is to leave it.

I want out.

---