Sweet Collateral

He inhales a deep breath. “Good. Gio?” His guy appears like a ghost. “Get me some C4. Lots of it. New York is about to witness the biggest Russian barbeque it’s ever seen.”

Yes, madness, thinly disguised as genius, that’s Nero.

Standing, I leave the room with Samuel falling in step beside me. “Give it three days and then make contact with Nicholai Ivanov.”

I hate to wait that long. Each minute feels like the lowering of an axe towards Anna’s exposed neck, but I have to give Una a chance. She went there for a trade. There’s no incentive for him to be honorable about this. However, if I jump the gun too soon, I’ll be handing him the use of my port when he may have released her anyway. Three days is as long as I’m willing to give it but beyond that…well, fuck business. This has gone far beyond that. I don’t care about a port anymore.

She’s all that matters.

39

Anna

I’ve lost all track of time. Without windows, I can’t even say whether it’s day or night. The sensory deprivation is something I’m used to, but the lack of human contact is affecting me far more than I ever thought it could. I never thought I would crave interaction, but as I sit here, with what feels like the first vestiges of insanity caressing the edge of my mind, I wonder if all those men really kept me sane? Were those bleak interactions actually necessary to my survival? No, I refuse to believe that. Resting my back to the wall, I pull my knees to my chest and close my eyes. Rafael is right there, waiting behind my closed lids like an apparition. A small smile touches my lips when I picture him. I always knew hope was dangerous, but there it is, like a tiny flame barely staying alight in the darkness; the hope that Rafael will save me from this, even though the few rational parts of my mind know it’s impossible. Stupid. So very stupid. The only way I’m walking out of here is if my sister comes for me, and I pray that she doesn’t.

I hear the metallic click of the lock releasing, followed by the loud squealing of the hinges as the heavy metal door is opened. I expect the guard to come in with food, the same as always. Instead, Nicholai walks in, his immaculate suit in place, that cold, absent look in his eyes. The door slams closed behind him, the bang like a gunshot in the enclosed concrete cell.

“Ah, little bird.” A twisted smile pulls at his lips as his eyes flick over me. I say nothing, although a warped part of me craves this conversation, no matter how repulsive. “I hope you are finding your accommodations suitable.”

“I’ve had worse.”

He grins. “Ah, yes. A sex slave to the Sinaloa, but not before a stint with Alexandru Dalca.” He lifts his brows, and I inwardly flinch at the sound of The Master’s real name. My stomach churns uncomfortably. “He’s a man of rather…specific tastes, is he not?” I don’t answer, and his grin only widens. “And he does pay well.” This man is at the top of the Bratva, which makes him responsible for taking and selling me, just as he stole my sister all those years ago. I fear him almost as much as I’m disgusted by him.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

He folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall next to the door. “Rafael D’Cruze.” My chest tightens at the sound of his name on this man’s lips. “What is he to you?”

I swallow heavily, trying to force my mind to think, to give him a glimmer of truth without revealing my love for Rafael. This is a man who would use love against me and Rafe both. “He took me in when Nero bought me from the Sinaloa.”

“So he is loyal to you?”

“He may feel a duty of protection.”

“But you are loyal to him.”

“This has nothing to do with Rafael. He only took me in at Nero’s request. This is about my sister and Nero Verdi.”

He smirks. “I have your sister.”

That takes me off guard. “You do?”

“Yes, soon my little dove will be restored to her former glory.”

“If Una is here then why do you still want me?”

“It seems Rafael D’Cruze would like you back, but I have much better uses for you.” He claps his hands together and pushes off the wall, coming over to the cot. Sitting on the edge, he reaches out and strokes a cold finger down my cheek. “You are my little dove’s sister,” he says with an almost childlike glee. “Such prize genetics. You know, children are the easiest to mold. The younger you train them, the more loyal they are. The better soldiers they become.” He sighs. “I regret that I did not find my little dove sooner.” A chill sweeps over my skin at his words. Child soldiers. It’s so wrong. “But imagine if you bred soldiers…” I freeze, my heart rate ticking up as the gravity of what he’s saying sinks in. “You will breed the next generation, little bird. Your sister will give me a child, and so will you.”