“They’ll just kill us,” I say flatly. “If we try, we die.”
“I’dratherdie,” she snaps, voice cracking, “than endure more abuse from more fucking men.”
I don’t answer.
She swallows hard. “I was at least…used to Nolan.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Whenever he climbed on top of me, I just…got used to it. I...I knew what to expect.”
Something in my chest twists. I sigh, long and heavy. “I know the feeling.”
Her head whips toward me. “What?” Her voice breaks completely now. A sob slips free, sharp and helpless. “W—why aren’t you acting more surprised?”
I finally glance at her. “The rug,” I say quietly.
She frowns, confused. “What?”
“It wasn’t in the dining room,” I continue. “I noticed it moments before the shot. I knew someone was about to die.”
Her mouth falls open.
“He planned it,” I say.
She covers her mouth with a hand to stifle a response. My heart is still erratic as I pull into the parking lot, Alexei’s men parking behind me. They blocked us in, of course.
The elevator ride is unbearable. Adriana stares at her reflection in the mirrored walls, fingers shaking as she wipes at the blood on her cheeks. It smears instead of disappearing, causing her to whimper.
Inside the suite, the door clicks shut. And she breaks down immediately. She crumples to the floor like her bones just…melted beneath her skin. “They’re going to take me,” she sobs, clutching at her hair. “They’re going to sell me. Nolan’s gone—he was the only thing keeping them from—” She chokes on the rest. “They’ll do whatever they want to me.”
I watch her, but can’t find words.
“No, no, no,” she cries. Her whole body is shaking now, grief and terror tangled together, spilling out in gasping breaths.
I stand there, my own thoughts scrambling in my head. Because she’s not wrong. Protection in this world is conditional. You have to be useful in some way, or you’re a waste. That’s what I’ve discovered.
Footsteps outside the suite snap me back into my body. I crouch and grab Adriana by the arms before she can spiral further, hauling her up off the floor. She makes a small, broken sound of protest, fingers clawing into my shirt like she might fall apart if she lets go.
"Please, give me enough to kill me." She points to where my kit is stashed in the living room. "Please, please, Jude. I'd rather die.Please."
“Hey,” I say sharply, forcing her gaze to mine. “Look at me.”
Her eyes are glassy with absolute panic. Gone somewhere else.
“They’re here,” I tell her in a low voice. “You need to pull it together. Right now.”
Her breath stutters. I pull her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head. She presses her face into my shoulder, shaking so hard I can feel it in my bones.
“Don’t give them a reason to hurt you.”
The knock comes, and I straighten, keeping an arm locked around Adriana as I open the door. Alexei’s men fill the hallway. Not Erik. Thank fuck. They don’t say anything, which only pisses me off. Adriana and I move through the suite, throwing clothes, toiletries, passports, and cash into our bags.
I grab my helmet, then pause, fishing my motorcycle key from my pocket. I turn to one of the men—short black hair, blue eyes, a pale scar slicing across his cheekbone. “Bring the bike, Aiden,” I say, tossing him the key.
He catches it easily, nodding once.
We’re out minutes later. Straight to hell.
The drive back to Alexei’s estate feels like a dream that my brain is actively forgetting. I’m behind the wheel of the Lambo, hands tight on the leather, Adriana silent beside me, her knees pulled tightly to her chest.
“You should put on your seatbelt,” I mutter without looking at her.