Page 97 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

“I want my bed,” I sob, limping into the room where Rose is once again curled in a ball on her mattress.

Poor Dr. Bardhi isn’t equipped to handle with my level of hysteria, so he follows me into the room, holding me up by the elbow. Halfway to my bed, just in front of the closet, I stumble. I cry out in pain and spin in his arms, groping at his mid-section and the waistband of his pants.

When my fingers feel the carabiner holding his keys, I quickly slide it from his belt loop and fall to the floor, clutching the evidence against my chest.

The keys on this carabiner open the front door. The door that leads to outside. The door that leads to freedom.

“Arya, please. Lay still,” Dr. Bardhi says, sounding frustrated. “You are going to hurt yourself so much worse with all this flailing. I have to check and make sure you haven’t broken anything or punctured an artery.”

It’s a low bar, but Dr. Bardhi is the closest thing to a good man here. That won’t save him, though.

And it sure as hell won’t save me. No amount of guilt could stop me from escaping this hellhole.

Rose and I are getting out.

I’m finding my son.

And then I’m taking us all far, far away from here.

“Now!” I cry.

At my command, Rose shoves the man with all her strength and he falls into the small closet head first. Rose then slams the door closed on him, and together, we slide my bed the last foot so it barricades the closet door, trapping Dr. Bardhi inside.

The man begins to shout, banging on the door and the walls. We ignore him.

Let him see what it feels like to be trapped.

Rose and I hold hands as we run down the hallway that has been our prison for so long now. My feet ache and bleed, but I could care less. The pain in my body is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

The main house is quiet. If Taras is back from his night of drinking, he is already asleep. If he hasn’t, then it means we need to move fast. There’s no room for hesitation. We have to get through the door and as far from this house as possible.

We race through the foyer. The front door beckons.

And at the final threshold, Rose hesitates.

She grinds to a halt and tugs me with her. “They’ll find us on the road,” she whispers fearfully. “This is a mistake. They’re going to catch us.”

I dig my fingernails into her arm. I refuse to lose her at this point. “I can see the front door, Rose. We’re almost there. Just a little further.”

Every footstep across the floor sounds like a clap of thunder. I’m sure we’re waking up every other person in the house.

But we’re close. We’re so fucking close.

We’re halfway across the foyer, standing in the direct center of the room where the tiles converge into a spiral pattern—

When I hear a key in the door.

33

Dima

Thirty Minutes Earlier

Once I’m certain there is no one on my trail, I double back. I keep to the shadows, walking around the corner and down the alley.

Through one of the grimy windows, I catch a glimpse of Taras and his men huddled in a corner booth. But I focus my attention on the small lot behind the bar.

One parking space is taken up by a black town car with tinted windows. It’s idling.

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