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This place is paradise on earth, but for the sixteen young women locked in cages in the cellar, it’s a living hell, and I am the gatekeeper.
Elyah doesn’t want a wife. Elyah wants to torture an unsuspecting woman until she begs for mercy, which he’ll deny over and over again. All the while despising her for her tears, her fear, her crying. The man doesn’t know the meaning of mercy. Neither does Kirill, though he delights in the tears that Elyah loathes.
“That was unexpected, neordinarnaya. None of the others put up such a fight.” My head spins and my whole body goes limp against his. What others? Just before everything goes black, he whispers, “Welcome to the pageant.”
I shift to the edge of the bed and cup her face in my hands. “One day you will have beautiful child, and he will have everything because he will have you.”
“I’ll die with dignity. You’re the one who’ll have to clean up the mess I leave on the floor, podkhalim.
His lip curls back in a snarl. “Everything is game to you.” She lifts her arms and gestures around the room, at the desk Kirill and I are sitting behind. “Well, what the fuck is this?” Kirill lets out a shout of laughter and claps his hands, loud and slow. “Ten fucking points. Five stars. What’s our scoring system? I don’t know, but Number Eleven wins round one for me.”
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As she’s being escorted from the room, Number Eleven flashes me a challenging look over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched. So, are you entertained? Kirill is still laughing. Elyah is pacing up and down the room like a caged tiger. Number Eleven just detonated a bomb in this room and now she’s gone, leaving us with the shock waves.
“When I get out of this cage, I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
“Give Kirill the gun,” I say through gritted teeth, moving one hand to Kirill’s muscular shoulder and holding on for dear life. Literally. The pressure of the barrel disappears. “What?” “He’s the one doing all the hard work. He should be the one to kill me.”
How does she keep turning things around on us when she’s the one locked in a cage?
Kirill slides a possessive hand around my throat, wrenching my head back even farther, and spits a thin stream of vodka into my mouth. His aim is perfect, like he’s practiced his whole damn life for this moment. Warm vodka fills my mouth. “Swallow,” he says roughly, playing with the chain that links my nipples.
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He puts his lips against my ears and murmurs, “You are perfect, Lilia Aranova. You are my angel. My precious.”
I smile at the one who told me I was a dead woman. “Don’t worry about me, boys. Worry about your own skins when your Pakhan finds out you’ve been disarmed and locked up by a group of runway models.”
That’s why she needs to be the one to do this. Marija is going to look back on this week and feel so many things, and she needs to remember herself as a hero, not a traitor. Besides, she’ll be ruthless in the face of any obstacles and that’s what these women need right now. “I know you’re a better person than the one thing you said in a moment of terror.”
“I decide what happens next. Not you.” Slowly and deliberately, looking Konstantin in the eyes, I raise the tiara up into the night sky and place it carefully on my head. It has little silver teeth that push into my hair and grip it tight. “Perfect,” Konstantin breathes, gazing at me with naked admiration. “As if it were made for you.”
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In one night, she’s ripped everything I built these past eight months right out from beneath me.
