Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
“Dima,” he said, that lone word holding all his rage. “You took my daughter. Fine. You want leverage, you have it. Name exactly what you want to fulfill your little revenge fantasy, and I’ll see if I can make it happen. But you keep her intact. She still has value.”
I thought of the unspoken parts he’d left out. Zoya would be used for marriage, alliances, and securing bloodlines.
“She’s not disposable.” He didn’t plead. There wasn’t any fatherly anguish. He spoke as if I’d taken something that held materialistic value, something he’d use and barter. Not cherish as his own flesh and blood.
Just the same transactional chill I knew he’d always used when he looked at her. I didn’t respond right away, just leaned back in my chair behind my desk and stared at Zoya. She sat on her cot, knees bent to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. My coat was draped over her shoulders like a brand, and it did something to me… made my blood run hot.
Always the same position, like a scared bird afraid of her own shadow.
She may look small and vulnerable, but I knew she had a spine made of steel. Her gaze glittered with something feral. I had to give her credit. Zoya didn’t blink when she heard how her father talked about her. She didn’t flinch or act hurt. She simply… waited. This woman could be very dangerous, like a blade being slowly drawn from its sheath.
I let Andrey’s words crawl into the room like smoke. “You want to bargain?” I said, voice deadly and even. “Then let her hear how much she’s worth to you.”
Andrey exhaled. It was a short, impatient sound. “Zoya. Whatever he showed you, whatever poison he fed you… it’s business. Ugly business, yes, but necessary. I kept you separate from it. I kept you protected. You were never meant to see anything from that side of my work. That was for your own good.”
Zoya’s breath hitched. The sound was small and broken, seeming to echo in the cold room. She pressed her forehead hard against her drawn-up knees, shoulders curling inward as if she could fold herself small enough to disappear. She didn’t speak. Didn’t lash out. She simply trembled, the quiet shake of someone who had spent her life learning how to survive silence.
“Enough,” I cut in. The single word sliced through the air like a blade. I rose from behind the desk and crossed to her in three slow, deliberate steps. When I crouched, my shadow swallowed her completely. I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger. It was a firm but careful touch, one I ensured wouldn’t bruise.
I tilted her face until those wide, frightened blue eyes met mine. Her pulse hammered wildly at the base of her throat.
“Tell him,” I murmured, my voice pitched low and rough, meant for her ears alone. “Tell him what happens if he delays.”
She stared at me, lips parted, breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls. Tears finally spilled over. They were silent, hot tracks that slid down her cheeks. She swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet, and when I moved back and gave her space, she cleared her throat and stared at the phone still on the desk.
“He… he’s going to hurt me, Papa,” her voice was barely above a whisper, cracking on every other word. The confession fractured as she looked at me, and I gave her a slow nod. “One piece at a time. Every week he’ll take a part of me away until you give him what he wants.” She licked her lips and exhaled again. “You know what he wants.”
Andrey inhaled sharply on the other end of the line. “You won’t,” he said, the words flat and certain. “She’s your leverage. You damage her and this ends because she’s no fucking good to me.”
I smiled. Although he couldn’t see me, I made sure it was slow, cold, and the type of smile that always came right before I spilled blood. “Test that theory. Twenty-four hours. First encrypted list to the address I sent. If I find out you did anything other than that, the first piece of your daughter arrives in a velvet box tied with a ribbon.”
Zoya’s breath shuddered out of her in a broken exhale. I wondered if she thought I’d truly do what I said. Every other occasion but this, I had no conscience. I did what needed to be done. But as I stared at her and thought about taking little pieces off her body, I knew I wouldn’t so much as pluck a hair from her head.
Andrey’s voice returned, stripped raw, but not with worry or concern, with marrow-deep anger. “I’ll send it. But when I find you, Dima… there won’t be enough left to identify.”
I ended the call, and the silence crashed in. It was thick, heavy, and scented with the sharp metallic edge of fear. I was back in front of her before I realized I’d moved and reached out to smooth my thumb along her cheek, brushing away the wet track of a tear from her cheek.