Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
‘What if we’re separated?’ she asks, her voice small and vulnerable.
I wrap my arm tighter around her. ‘It will never happen.’
‘But what if,’ she insists.
‘Then I’ll find you and steal you back.’
‘Promise, Misha.’
‘I promise, Tiana.’
‘I love you more than all the gifts I got today.’
My heart clenches at her words because I know how much those gifts meant to her.
‘I love you more.’
Suddenly the pain increases dramatically, and the memory morphs into something unexpected.
‘I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours.’
My little deer lets out a weak chuckle. ‘Sounds… like a deal.’
Her bright emerald eyes stare up at me as she admits, ‘You would’ve been my first kiss.’ Scrunching her nose, she corrects herself, ‘Well, we did kiss. Kind of.’
‘Why didn’t you stop me?’
‘Because I wanted it to be you.’
‘Do you still want the kiss?’ I ask, hoping she says yes.
Her voice is soft as she says, ‘Please. If I’m going to die, I at least want one decent kiss.’
I shake my head, my voice filled with determination as I say, ‘You won’t die. Not like this.’
Lowering my head, I claim her lips, and I kiss her like I’ve never kissed anyone.
When I reluctantly end the kiss, tears shine in her eyes. ‘Thank you, mio principe.’
“Misha!” Instructor Volkov snaps as he nudges my shoulder.
I shake my head as I come out of my safe place and inhale deeply as the pain sets in from where my nail is torn off.
Christ. It’s the first time that’s happened. How the hell can a memory of Aurora be stronger than that of my sister?
Instructor Volkov has pride shining from his eyes while he looks at me. “Now that’s how it’s done. If they can’t touch you, they can’t do shit to make you talk.”
“Your turn, Mr. Kodra,” Instructor Volkov says as he hands me a bandage.
I’m still reeling from what happened, that the memory of kissing Aurora took me so deep into my subconsciousness I felt nothing. Usually, I still feel something. Thinking of Tiana just makes it bearable.
But Aurora completely eliminated the pain.
What. The. Fucking. Fuck?
I have to force my attention on the matter at hand, and picking a needle from the box, I lock eyes with the Albanian sex trafficker.
Think of the three people he raped and had his people kidnapped. It could’ve been Tiana.
It could have been Aurora.
Marsela’s dark eyes are empty as he stares back at me.
Gripping hold of his pinky, I position the needle beneath his nail. The fucking thing is long and yellow, making me look forward to peeling it off.
As slowly as possible, I push the needle into his skin, watching as the sharp point forces the nail to tear. My eyes flick back to Marsela’s, and I notice as he clenches his jaw, his lips thinning.
When I push deeper, he tries to pull his hand back, but the strap keeps it in place.
I let my hatred for him show as I growl, “Where are the three people you raped and kidnapped?”
“Fuck –” I push the needle deeper, and he pauses to clench his jaw, then he hisses, “Fuck you.”
The needle tears deeper, then I pause so the pain can register. “Where are they?”
This time he remains silent as sweat beads on his forehead.
“You only have two years left. The moment you set foot off St. Monarch’s ground, I’ll be waiting,” I taunt him.
The needle’s halfway, and the man is sweating like he ran a marathon.
“I’d like to try the rats on you. I feel it will be a fitting death.” I push the sharp end until it’s touching the white of his nailbed. “Imagine rats tearing through your skin, eating their way through your stomach, clawing through your spine…” I push it all the way. “Pouring from your back as your body convulses from the shock of being eaten alive.”
Marsela tries to pull away again, and as the point of the needle breaks through the skin behind his nail, he cries like a fucking girl.
“Kiska,” I mutter the word pussy in Russian as I yank the needle out.
“Take the nail,” Instructor Volkov instructs. “Make him talk.”
I drop the needle on the table and pick up the pliers. Giving Marsela a smug smile, I say, “Last chance. Where are the three people your group kidnapped?”
Marsela shakes his head hard, and sucking in harsh breaths of air, he tries to steal himself as I grip hold of the yellow nail. Using the pliers, I wiggle the nail, taking my sweet fucking time.
“Where are they?”
Marsela’s body strains, his fingers locking in place as I start to pull.
“Where are they?” I keep repeating, knowing the question is wearing him down.
As the nail starts to tear loose, he screams, “Dead! They’re fucking dead.”
I stop pulling at his nail, and frowning, I ask, “Why? Unless you deal in necrophilia, I can’t imagine what you’d do with three dead bodies.”