Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Then I realize that there’s only one advantage I have over Viktor. He needs me alive if he has any plans of using me against Mikhail. There’s no way to really injure myself here, so I opt for a hunger strike. I push my small dresser against the door and lay in bed, determined that I won’t come out of my room again.
That lasts for all of two hours, when a guard bangs on my door.
“Ms. Malenkova, you’re needed downstairs,” the guard says through the door, though his voice is muffled by the dresser.
“Tell Viktor to fuck off,” I scream back, crossing my arms and staring at the wall.
I hear the doorknob rattle and the guard tries to open it, but it’s blocked by the dresser.
“Ms. Malenkova,” he tries again. “I must insist that you open the door.”
“And I must insist that you go fuck yourself,” I shoot back, glaring toward the dresser.
I hear him walk away, but I know that isn’t the end of it. He’s very likely gone to get backup.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, there are more footsteps. It takes three men to push the door open, but I don’t try to fight them. It’s just a waste of energy, and I’m trying to conserve as much as I can. After all, a hunger strike requires a lot of work.
“This is cute, really,” Viktor says once he’s managed to squeeze himself through a small crack in the door. “But it won’t work. I’ll remove all of your furniture if I have to.”
“I don’t care,” I answer dispassionately. “You might as well put a bullet in my head now, Viktor. If my only way out of this house is a body bag, so be it.”
“No one wants you dead,” he answers with an edge to his voice. “And I’m not letting you starve yourself. Get your ass downstairs now.”
“You have no way to make me,” I answer him, bored. “I simply refuse to do anything you say.”
“Anya,” he warns darkly, before grabbing an edge of the dresser and pushing it away from the door.
“Try it,” I challenge.
He sighs and goes back out to the hallway where he talks quietly to his guards. All three men enter and the guards grab me under my arms. I don’t even try to fight them as they lift me off the bed. They drag me out into the hallway, but I go boneless. One of the men grunts and throws me over his shoulder.
I can’t help but want to laugh as he struggles down the stairs. When we reach the kitchen, the guard unceremoniously sets me down in a chair, where there’s a sandwich and a bag of chips waiting.
“I’m not eating,” I tell Viktor.
“Fine.” He shrugs. “Then you can just sit here all day and stare at it.”
“Or,” I say in an argumentative tone, “you can admit that this was a half-baked plan and let me go.”
Viktor snaps and the guards disappear, close enough to intervene if I threaten Viktor’s life, but far enough away that we have a semblance of privacy.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he warns warily. “Just eat the damn sandwich and I’ll let you go back to your room.”
“No,” I answer firmly, crossing my arms. “I’m not eating again until you agree to let me go.”
“You’d really rather starve to death?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow at me.
“I’d really rather leave on my own terms, but since that doesn’t seem to be an option, I’ll take my chances.”
“Anya,” he huffs in frustration. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You’re safer here than you would be on your own. Why can’t you just accept that?”
“I will never accept being held against my will,” I spit back. “You’re every bit as bad as Mikhail and my father. You’re just a sadistic asshole just like them.”
His jaw clenches a bit, and I realize I’ve hit a nerve, but he doesn’t yell.
“You’re just acting out because you want any sense of control. That’s fine, Anya. If you want to starve, be my guest. I’m still not letting you leave this table until you eat.”
“Then I guess we’ll both be waiting here for a long time,” I answer calmly, relaxing back against my chair.
“I guess we will,” he responds, relaxing into his own.
His phone rings, but he doesn’t respond. I know it’s Sergei. It’s almost always Sergei.
“You should really get that,” I tell him. “I’m sure you aren’t willing to lose your entire organization just to watch me eat.”
“He’ll come by if it’s that important,” Viktor says, shutting his phone off.
“Is that how you run your Bratva?” I ask with venom in my voice. “A real pakhan wouldn’t let their captive keep them from their work.”
His eyes flash, but he doesn’t take the bait.
“I’m more evolved than most other pakhanov,” he responds lightly. “And certainly more patient. Your fiancé is starting a war in the streets while I’m sitting here, watching you eat. I’d say you got the better end of the deal.”