Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
They looked at her and only saw a woman.
She had fought, bled, and survived more than most men I knew. I wouldn’t let her die reduced to anything less than what she was.
“Are you done?” I asked Mikhail.
“You should really get some blood—”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yeah.” He clipped the line and wrapped a bandage around my shoulder. “I’m done. But you need rest and—”
I didn’t listen to whatever the fuck else he said.
I sat up. The room buckled and spun, but I stayed upright, fists pressed hard into the table. When I opened my eyes again, the room was steady, and I was determined. Heat flushed my face. My shoulder screamed. But the thought of her dying sobered me fast.
“No one touches her,” I said as I got to my feet.
“You—” Pavel started, but I cut him off with a deadly look.
“I said no one touches her.”
She was going to survive the night.
I didn’t care if I had to tear through the entire Ivanov family tree to save her.
She was mine.
Only mine.
CHAPTER 20
ZOYA
Afist grabbed the hood along with a good chunk of my hair and pulled it away, blinding me with the pain and the light.
Why was it always the hair?
I winced, closing my eyes, trying to give myself a moment to adjust. That same hand was back in my hair, pulling, lifting my chin, while another hand grasped my jaw.
“Open those pretty little eyes, bitch,” an all too familiar voice said.
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was.
But I still did, just to confirm my worst fear.
Mateo.
The man who was supposed to be my second in command had me tied to a fucking chair in a concrete room with nothing but a small table in the middle, a single caged light bulb hanging from the ceiling, and two armed guards at the door.
We were in my warehouse. My fucking warehouse.
The stupid fucker was holding me prisoner in my own goddamn warehouse.
One that the Ivanovs had already infiltrated.
If I survived this, I would never live it down. Who the fuck got taken by someone so fucking stupid?
Being taken by the Ivanov devil was one thing. He was strong, smart, and a fucking force.
Mateo was an entitled, money-hungry, drug-addicted bitch.
Who now had control of my men, including two of my armed guards who stood watching on either side of the door, their faces masks of indifference, their fingers resting on the triggers of their assault rifles.
Fucking traitors.
Cowards.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I seethed, ignoring the throbbing pain in my temples, the stinging ache in my scalp where I was sure I now had a bald spot, and every other single inch of my body that just hurt.
Mateo, the fucking pussy, was looking for weakness.
For something to exploit.
“Hello, boss,” he said with a sickly-sweet taunt. “You should be happy. I risked so many men to get you out of the clutches of the Ivanov bastard.”
“Gee.” I smiled back. “Thanks so much for the rescue. Now, how about you let me out of this chair, and we get back to work?”
Mateo let out a loud, hyena-like cackle.
God, I was going to enjoy killing him.
“Oh, it’s going to be so much fun,” he said as he tightened his hand in my hair and forced my head back further, making me stare straight into the blinding light bulb.
Another shock of pain pierced through my temples, straight into my brain. I had to fight back a wince.
“Let go,” I said.
“You are no longer in a position to make demands. In fact, you should have never been given a position to make demands of me or any of my men.”
“I wasn’t given shit. I spent good money for you. Clearly, I overpaid.”
He let go of my hair long enough to take a step back and then his arm flew through the air, his knuckles dragging across my face in a backhanded slap that sent fire through my head as my neck was yanked to the side.
The chair tipped, and I thought for a moment I was going to go over until he grabbed me by the hair again and forced me back into an upright position.
“You always were such a mouthy cunt, with your orders and demands, as if you had the right.”
“I do have the right, you dumb fuck. I pay you. And them. You work for me,” I seethed.
His hand flew through the air again.
This time I got closer to falling, the vertigo twisting my stomach, and I could taste iron in my mouth. It wasn’t a lot, but still.
“The only thing a dumb bitch like you should have ever been allowed to do is cook for my men and suck their cocks. That’s it. You are not worthy of giving demands. You’re just some blonde bitch that was given too much of daddy’s money. We are going to fix that.”