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)
The twins pick the Albanians.
“Ladies?” Instructor Yelena pressures us to choose.
“I’ll take the bratva,” Abbie says, doing me a favor.
Seeing as all three groups have been taken, I ask, “Should I wait for the next lesson?”
Instructor Yelena gives me an incredulous look. “Pick a group, Miss D’Angelo. Surely it can’t be that hard?”
Jesus.
With my cheeks going up in flames, I glance at the three groups.
It’s a hard pass on the Albanians. The bratva is also a no-go.
Shit, that leaves the yakuza.
Ugh.
Dragging my feet, I walk to the group of Asian men.
None of the men look at me, which I appreciate. Besides Seijo beating the crap out of me on the first day, he’s quite disciplined in class. Maybe his friends are the same.
Instructor Yelena waves a hand, and before it can register, I’m grabbed from behind and dragged into the maze of crates.
You have to fight!
I start to yank and wiggle, trying to free myself from his hold, but the guy is too strong. I’m pulled behind a crate, spun around, and a hard slap makes me bite my tongue.
Okay, it’s starting to feel real.
I’m still reeling from the slap when he starts to tie my hands. Fighting against his hold, I manage to free one hand, which only earns me a punch.
Blindly, I swing a fist at the guy, and it connects with his jaw.
“Jesus,” I whimper as dizziness swims in my head, but I manage to get another punch in, making him curse in Japanese.
His arms lock around me, and my feet leave the ground, then I’m dragged deeper into the maze of crates and shoved into one. A second later, darkness closes around me.
No.
Fuck no, this is way too real.
I struggle into a kneeling position, my hands connecting with a wooden wall.
“Let me out,” I scream, even though I know this is not how it works, but my rage still burns hot for a minute.
When I don’t hear anything, the reality starts to set in.
I’m in a crate, and I have to get out.
God, if this were a real scenario, I’d be loaded onto some boat and shipped off to the pits of hell.
Keep calm.
My heart beats frantically in my chest as I move my hands around me, feeling how small the space is, my breath catches in my throat.
Oh. God.
The next breath I take is strangled by the fear pouring into my veins like hot lava. There’s no stopping the panic attack.
My mind blanks out as I start to pound against the wood, begging, “Let me out. Please! Let me out.” I gasp for air, but nothing reaches my lungs while my heart hammers violently in my chest. “Please!”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I start to rock back and forth, pinching my eyes shut.
You’re not stuck in a small space.
I am! I fucking am, and I’m going to die!
My hand moves to my throat as I struggle to breathe, the sobs bursting from me only making it so much worse.
Losing my mind from the horror of being stuck in a small space, claustrophobia makes it feel like I’m having a heart attack. My chest aches something fierce, and my lungs burn for air.
My sanity leaves me completely, and I feel myself sink into the deepest part of my mind.
‘Hi.’
I can’t stop staring at his blue eyes. Crap, he’s attractive.
‘Hi,’ he murmurs, his tone deep and rough, making goosebumps rush over my skin.
He just watches me with a look of amazement on his face.
‘This isn’t weird at all,’ I chuckle nervously.
‘What?’
‘You staring at me.’
‘It’s because I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I like taking my time to admire a work of art.’
He places his hand on my side, and feeling the heat of his skin makes a tremble ripple through my body.
‘I feel it, too,’ he admits, and I swear I lose myself in the blue depths of his irises. ‘The attraction.’
‘Yeah?’
He begins to lean down, and it has anticipation exploding in my abdomen. The moment our lips touch, it feels so right it makes emotions erupt in my chest.
I’m happy.
The horror yanks me back into the dark crate, and slamming my fists against the wood, I let out a broken scream.
There’s no air to breathe!
God, I’m going to die.
No.
Shit, I can’t breathe.
Help.
Not like this. I can’t die like this.
I try to inhale, but all I hear is the strangling sound of my throat closing.
Chapter 16
Misha
Abbie struggles like a wild cat against Alek’s hold while Armani and I tie her to a chair.
“Looks like you like it rough,” Alek taunts her, and I notice his hands are digging hard into her biceps.
“Fucker,” Abbie spits at him, her eyes lit with fire.
“She’s restrained,” Armani mutters, clearly bored with the exercise.
Alek chuckles darkly, “Let’s see if you can free yourself.”
Abbie strains against the ropes as if it will help her get loose.