Tears of Betrayal

I fall to the ground with a painful thud, the gravel from whatever road we’re on scrapping at my left elbow and hip.

“Blyad',” he mutters.

That’s Russian for fuck. It’s one of the few words I know.

Oh, God. He’s Russian.

I let out a panicked sound as I try to sit up, but with my hands tied behind my back, I’m unable to.

The man grabs hold of my shoulders and tugs me into a sitting position, and then I come face to face with my kidnapper.

Two things hit me square in the gut – he’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and he looks like he’s ready to snap my neck in half.

“Please don’t kill me,” I beg, my words clear enough for him to understand. I begin to shake my head, my desperation to get out of this horrific situation making it hard to think.

The man lets out a sigh as if he’s irritated by me. “I’m not going to kill you.” And then his hold on me tightens, and I’m jerked into the air and thrown over his shoulder again.

I let out a scream hoping someone will hear me and come to my rescue.

The man starts to walk, this time keeping a tight hold of my hips. My eyes dart feverishly around us, and when I notice the hangers and planes, I begin to wiggle in earnest. I slam my knees against his chest, but it’s rock hard and doesn’t seem to faze him at all.

“No. Stop. Wait,” I try to get the words out around the fabric. “Let’s talk. Wait!”

He takes the steps up to a plane’s entrance, and I let out a panicked scream.

“Stop. Please, stop,” I beg, my emotions and senses a chaotic mess of absolute terror.

I’m placed in a seat and then strapped in. My eyes lock on the man’s, and all I can do is tremble in fear.

He reaches for my face, and I flinch, but the seat keeps me from moving back. Then he pulls the gag out of my mouth and says, “I’m not going to hurt you, Ariana. I’m saving your life. A hit’s been taken out on you. Until we can talk to your father, I’m taking you to a safe place. So stop fighting me and relax.”

What the actual hell?

My dry lips part, and for a moment, I stare at the man as if he’s grown horns and a tail.

Finally, I manage to gasp, “What?” Then, I start to blink like I’m malfunctioning. “You’re lying. I’m not a part of that world.”

This guy has another thing coming if he thinks I’ll believe a single word he says.

“Who are you?” I demand, wanting to know his name. When Dad sends Yuri to save me, I want to be able to tell my brother who kidnapped me.

The man checks my seat belt, tightening it a little more, then as he lifts his head and our eyes meet again, he says, “Demitri.”

His irises are dark brown and intense as hell, sending another wave of fear rippling through me.

“Demitri who?” I ask, my voice quivering.

I only know of one man named Demitri, and this guy can’t be him.

Please, don’t let it be him.

I hold my breath until he adds, “Vetrov.”

My entire world comes to a screeching halt.

Unspeakable fear and a sense of hopelessness drown the light from my existence as I stare at the most dangerous man in the world.

God.

Demitri Vetrov. Personal protector of the best assassin.

Assassin.

I’m as good as dead.

God.

Demitri crouches in front of me, his eyes narrowing on my face. “Breathe, Ariana,” he orders with steel in his voice.

I suck in a painful breath and then begin to shake my head. “I have nothing to do with my father and brother. I’m just a normal twenty-three-year-old girl. I was raised by my mother,” I ramble, hoping I can somehow convince this killer he has the wrong person. I gasp for another breath of air, my body trembling so hard it’s starting to ache.

Some kind of realization dawns on his face, then he asks, “You know who I am?”

Oh crap.

I shake my head hard. “No. No. Definitely not.” He’ll probably kill me right now if he finds out I know exactly who he is.

Demitri gets up and walks to the door. With dwindling hope, I watch as he closes the door and then heads to a cabinet. He pulls out a first aid bag, but when he removes a syringe from it, I start to struggle with all my strength.

As Demitri comes toward me with the syringe, I begin to plead again, “Please, don’t do this. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone what happened.”

His hand darts out, and his fingers wrap tightly around the left side of my neck to keep me in place. “This will make you sleep. I’m doing you a favor.”