1
CORA
The moment the silhouette appears in the doorway at the top of the stairs, my heart sinks.
“Don’t look so fucking grim,” Mikhail scolds as he saunters down into the room. “Your fiancé has come to claim you at last. You’re going home.”
I don’t know where Mikhail plans to take me, but it won’t be home. And he sure as fuck isn’t my fiancé.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I spit with as much venom as I can muster. But it’s hard to sound tough when your hands are still bound to a chair. “Where did Francia go?”
She left as soon as Mikhail showed up without so much as a goodbye. I wonder what could be more important than keeping two women prisoner in this dank, depressing basement.
His eyebrows spring upward. “You’d prefer to be down here with that crazy bitch over me?”
“You’re the one working with her.”
“Means to an end, darling,” he drawls. “Francia is simply a means to an end.”
I’m the “end” he’s talking about. But whatever Mikhail is hoping will happen here today, he’s mistaken. I refuse to let Mikhail fucking Sokolov be the end of my story.
I scan the dungeon again. There are two doors: the main one Mikhail just came through and the locked side door where Francia dragged Jorden’s unconscious body through earlier. Aside from those, there’s no way out. Not unless I can kill Mikhail and use his dead body like a battering ram. Which, hello—hands still bound in chains here.
“If Francia is a means to an end, what is Jorden?” I ask. “You haven’t checked on her in a while. She should be awake by now.”
At least, I hope she’s awake by now. If she isn’t, I’m not sure what that means for her survival. Can people die from chloroform or whatever the hell they used to knock us out?
His eyes dart to the door and his jaw flexes. “Gone.”
My entire body goes cold. “… Gone? What does that mean? She isn’t gone. She’s—”
“Alive and gone,” he corrects wearily, as if feigning human emotion is exhausting for him. Poor guy. No one ever has enough pity for sociopaths. “She isn’t useful, so we pawned her off. The going rate on pretty women with no family to search for them isn’t bad. You should remember that. If I get bored with you, you’ll end up in the same place.”
She’s alive. I should be relieved, but it’s cold comfort if the rest of what Mikhail is saying is true.
Jorden, my best friend, trafficked to some sicko who thinks they can own a human being. Jorden, the life of the party who just wanted to be taken care of and loved, sold off to God only knows who. The horror of it is too much to process. Like so much else about this experience, I bottle it up and shove it down deep.
Ivan will come for me. When he does, he’ll save Jorden, too.
As if he can read my thoughts, Mikhail shifts closer to me. He kneels down, his bony arms on his knees, his skin so pale it practically glows in the gloom.
“Is that hope I see in your eyes?” Mikhail twists his face to the side. “Unbelievable. After everything, you still think Ivan Pushkin will come save you.”
“I know he will.” I lift my chin, refusing to sink to Mikhail’s games. He wants to drag me down, but I can’t let him.
Mikhail studies me for a moment longer. Then he laughs.
The sound of it sends goosebumps shivering across my skin. It’s repulsive. I can’t believe I ever spent a single second by his side. That I tucked my arm through his and let him lead me through dinner parties. That we stood in a jewelry store and chose a fucking wedding ring.
“You’ve always been delusional, Cordelia. Your expectations for your life are childish. Like you think you live in some fairytale.”
“If you think you’re the Prince Charming, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
He bares his teeth and his fist clenches. For a second, I think he’s going to hit me. Then Mikhail relaxes. He eases back and smiles. “You also overestimate your value. Most women know when they’re being more trouble than they’re worth. You have never been a good judge of that.”
“If I’m so much trouble, why are you here?” I rasp. “Why not let me go?”
“Because I don’t mind working for what I deserve. You’re like a wild horse. You need to be broken before you can be put to your proper use.”
His eyes smear up and down my body. I fight back another shiver.
“I’m not yours to train.”
“Oh, really?” he snorts. “Who do you belong to, then? Ivan?”
Yes. The word echoes through my hollow chest so loudly I’m sure Mikhail can hear it.
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You don’t belong to Ivan, that’s for sure,” he snarks. “If you did, he’d be here now to save you, wouldn’t he? But no—just like always, you were difficult. You pushed back against his control and you and I both know that Ivan has no interest in someone he can’t control. He doesn’t want a wild horse; he wants a docile little show pony.”
I blink back the tears suddenly collecting in my eyes. “That’s not true.”
“But it is.” He kneels down again, his face twisted into a horrifying mask of faux sympathy. “Ivan announced to the entire underworld that he wanted a simple business arrangement for a marriage. He wanted a woman who knew how to follow orders and wouldn’t get in his way. He wants a woman like Francia.”
Jealousy flares in me. “Fuck you!” I strain forward, rubbing my already-raw wrists against my bindings. “You don’t know Ivan. Not the real him. You don’t know anything about us.”
Mikhail barks out a laugh. “‘Us.’ Fucking delusional. Ivan doesn’t love you. He never loved you. The bastard isn’t capable of it.”
“And you are?”
He considers the question for a moment. “No, probably not. But I hold tightly to what is mine. Whereas Ivan is already moving on. Why should he care about you when there is another woman willing to fill your position?”
I want to ignore him. I should ignore him. Mikhail is trying to get a rise out of me. He’s trying to break me down.
But I think back to all those times where the truth hit me—when I was forced to realize that there are so many other women better suited to Ivan and what he wants. Francia, as crazy as she may be, is one of those women. She doesn’t want love; she wants power. Ivan can give her that and more.
Mikhail stands up and pulls out his phone. “No word from Francia yet. Maybe she’s busy securing the deal.” He winks at me suggestively and my stomach bottoms out.
The thought of anyone touching Ivan is too much to think about.
He wouldn’t do that to me, I think. He’s going to save me. He’ll come for me.
I repeat the words to myself again and again, clinging to the warmth of the thought even as a chill I can’t fight seeps into my bones.