Page 11 of Midnight Sanctuary

“In any case, I would stop thinking about the girl and start thinking about yourself. I have plans for you, too. But don’t worry—I intend to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of my horror, but when his hand grazes my cheek, I can’t stop the instinct any longer. I start retching instantly. Boris jumps out of the way like a startled cat.

“Disgusting,” he mutters. That silky smoothness disappears altogether. Now, he just soundspissed.

Despite the sandwich I ate, nothing comes out of me but a few trickles of spit and blood. I collapse onto the mattress, my whole body wracked with shivers. I don’t give myself much time to wallow before I look at him, determined to fight as hard as I can if he so much as takes another step towards me.

Boris is still standing at the foot of the bed, far enough away to avoid the splatter of my vomit. Those brown-gold eyes of his are narrowed with distaste. “Are you going to be difficult about this?” I open my mouth but he holds up a hand. “Don’t bother answering. I’m not prepared to wait for you to decide one way or the other.”

As I watch, he pulls something out of his pants pocket. It takes me a moment to focus on the instrument he’s holding up to the light.

Is that a…syringe?

“No!” I gasp, pulling my knees up toward my chest as high as they can go. “No, no,no.”

He strides around the bed as I start struggling again but the restraints are making it impossible for me to do much. I see his hand rise toward my neck. “NO!”

But it’s too late. I feel the sharp pinch as the needle breaks the skin. Almost immediately, my head starts to spin and my vision goes blurry. It’s like black snowflakes falling over my eyes. The world fades, one pixel at a time, until there’s nothing left but darkness.

I can still feel, though, at least for a while. Boris’s hands undo the buttons of my blouse one by one. The cold sneaks in to nip at me like little rats.

Then he stops.

“Well, well, well… is that what I think it is?” He clucks his teeth. “You’re pregnant.”

Even if I could talk, I don’t know what I would say. Lie? Don’t? Would it matter? Would he care?

“Uri Bugrov’s womanandhis baby. I really have hit the jackpot, haven’t I?”

I wish I could see. Or move. Or do anything but sit here behind this veil of darkness and listen to the most monstrous beast I’ve ever encountered murmur under his breath about my baby.

And then…

Wish granted.

I hear a huge bang. Like the world being ripped apart at the seams. I smell smoke and debris and Boris’s surprised intake of air. Then another huge explosion and the keening wail of a bullet.

Screams. Thumps. Splintering wood and billowing smoke. It’s all happening just on the other side of this drug-fueled shadow. I don’t know who the hell is coming—someone worse?—until a familiar scent hits my nostrils.

Scotch and cinnamon.

It’s Uri.

Never have I been more relieved, more grateful, more overjoyed to see someone—well, to figuratively see him—in my entire life.

“I warned you about touching my woman, Boris. I wasn’t joking.”

“I was just—”

I’ll never find out what Boris was just about to do, because before he can finish his thought, I hear the swish of Uri storming across the room and the violent crunch of fist meeting flesh. It rings out a dozen times or more, accompanied each time by a grunt or scream from Boris, until he isn’t making any noise at all anymore.

One more bang. The final bang.

Then… silence.

I feel Uri’s fingers stroke my face. “I… I can’t s-s-see…” I try to say. I’m not sure if my lips move or not.

“It’s okay. Hush now. You’re safe.”

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