Page 66 of Poisoned Vows

The room is locked. How the hell do you think you’re getting away?Nikolai isn’t going to give me an inch of free rein, after this. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took us back to Chicago in the morning. Our “honeymoon” is spoiled, and he won’t want to risk me trying anything else.

If I’m going to get away, it will have to be tonight.

I get out of the shower, slowly formulating a new plan in my head as I dry off and get dressed in clean jeans and another thicker sweater. I have a fleece-lined leather jacket, and I lay that on the bed as I find a pair of boots, watching the door every few seconds in case Nikolai comes in. I don’t want him to realize what I’m plotting.

Leaning over, I peer out of the window to see how far up the bedroom is. It’s hard to gauge in the dark with only the light from the front of the house, but I know I’m on the second story. It’s just whether or not I can get down without hurting myself.

Once I start my plan, I have to move fast. If Nikolai comes in and catches me, it’ll be obvious what I’m doing. And then—

I shudder at the thought of how he’d likely react. At the thought of him punishing me again. But I’m not entirely sure that it’s just a shudder of dread.

I don’t have time to analyze why his punishment turned me on. Why by the time the count had reached fifteen, I could feel that same tight heat washing over me that I feel when he touches me. Why I can’t help but come every time he doesanythingto me. I have to get out of here.

I dig in the closet, finding spare sheets. As fast as I can, I strip the bed, knotting them together until I have a long rope of tied-together fabric. I feel like a ridiculous, obvious trope right now, about to climb out of a window on a rope made of bedsheets—but if it works, why do I care? If I can get away, it doesn’t matter how I manage it.

He didn’t think to lock the windows. I push it open slowly, poised to stop if I hear a squeak, but it’s well-oiled and cared for. The window glides up, a burst of frigid air coming in, and I shiver as I reach for the sheets tied around the bedpost.

Fuck you, Nikolai, I think one last time—and I start to climb out of the window.

I immediately realize that it’s not as easy as it looks. Ihavea gym membership—or had—but the treadmill and some light bicep curls five times a week isn’t preparation for trying to rappel down the side of a house silently while holding up my own body weight, such as it is. For a brief, terrifying moment, I’m sure I’m going to slip and fall to the ground from the second story—or I’m going to make such a racket on the side of the house that Nikolai will come out and find me before I can get away.

I suck in a breath, clinging to the sheets and praying to anyone who might be listening that they don’t give way—and try to move as quietly as I can. I don’t let the breath out again until I reach the end of the rope.

There’s still space between me and the ground, but it doesn’t look like it’s enough to injure me. I take another breath, curling in on myself, and let myself drop.

All the air is knocked out of me when I hit the frozen ground. It wasn’t far, but my shoulder and hip strike the icy dirt, and the sharp pain is almost enough to make me cry out. I sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself, tasting blood, and I lay there for a brief second, wondering if this is worth it.

I could wait for Nikolai to come find me. He’d punish me again, but right now, I don’t know if I can move. I’m afraid I’ve broken something.

Slowly, I move my fingers and toes. I try to push myself up, and I realize, to my relief, that nothing is broken. I’m just bruised and sore, and I scramble to my feet, realizing as I get my breath back and my vision clears that it’s starting to snow.

Not just a light snow. It’s starting to snowhard.

One more chance, Lilliana. Go back in and apologize. Tell Nikolai you’re sorry. Sleep in a warm bed. Yes, it’ll be next to him. Yes, he’ll fuck you. But is it so bad? He makes you come. Just be a good wife, and it won’t be so bad.

I can’t do it. I can’t make myself go back. For as long as I can remember, I’ve gotten through everything I’ve endured by telling myself that there was freedom at the end of this, so long as I could survive. Now I have a path to that.

I don’t know how far it is to the road. But I start off away from the house, going into the trees, hoping that it will give me enough cover that Nikolai won’t be able to see where I’ve gone. I have no idea how long it will take for him to realize that I’ve left.

By the time I make it a little ways into the trees, the snow is coming down harder. The wind has picked up, cutting through the leather jacket and sweater, and I wrap my arms around myself, shivering as I plunge deeper into the woods. I need to find a road, but by now, the light from the house has disappeared, and I’m not entirely sure which way I came from.

Fuck.I stop, looking around as I try to get my bearings. The woods are pitch black except for the moonlight filtering in through the trees, and I didn’t bring any source of light. The snow isn’t letting up, and the harder it falls, the more I realize what a stupid idea this was.

I’m so cold. Once I’m standing still, I realize just how cold it is—and it feels like the temperature is dropping. I didn’t think any of this out—I didn’t havetimeto think it out—but it begins to dawn on me how dire of a situation this is.

Okay. I’ll try to find my way back to the house.I take a breath, trying to look for my footprints, but the snow is falling hard enough that the tracks are already covered. I’m surrounded by trees that all look the same, in a forest of white, and even if I could see the stars, I wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

I’m lost.The thought sends a cold bolt of panic through me. I’m shaking not just from the freezing temperatures but from fear now, and I try to calm myself down, to remember that the more I panic, the more likely I am not to make it out of here. But I’m not sure it matters anymore.

I start to try to walk back in the direction I think I came from, but it’s only minutes before I realize it’s impossible. I have no way of knowing which way is the right one. I can’t find my way back to the house—not to go back and beg Nikolai’s forgiveness if I wanted to, and not to try to use it as a guidepost for how to find the road.

I’m going to die out here.The realization doesn’t hit me as hard as I think it should. I won’t make it out here overnight; I’m almost certain. I have no way to keep warm. Eventually, I’ll fall asleep, and from everything I know about exposure—which admittedly isn’t much—I won’t wake up.

A part of me isn’t entirely sure that’s so bad.Maybe that’s better than being married to Nikolai, spending the rest of my life as a Bratva wife.I’d known, when I thought I was being given to thepakhan, that I might not make it out alive. This is just a different version of that. Maybe I wasn’t ever supposed to make it out of this alive.

Freezing to death is probably better than what would have happened to me in that scenario.

I keep walking, because it feels like giving up to just stop. I keep hoping the trees will give way to a clearer path, to a road, a view of a highway. They never do. At some point, I think I might be walking in circles, but there’s really no way to tell.

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