Page 45 of Captured Obsession

He didn't even give me time to speak. That frosty wall back in place between us after one phone call.

My heart leaps out of my chest, and I hit pause on the TV.

Russia? That's bad, right? I'm not getting any closer to returning to London or New York. What if I never make it out of Russia?

A flutter of hushed Russian pricks at my ears from unfamiliar voices. It's only ever Andrei or Sergey who stand outside my door when Nikolai isn’t attending to me personally.

I creep over to the door and press my ear to it, eavesdropping. “If no one is out here guarding the door, doesn’t that mean she’s by herself? We can go in and make it look like she did it herself. We can be done with this job. I’m fucking over this babysitting gig.”

“We’re sitting ducks here if the Armanis find us. We’re just being used as pawns, and I don’t want to lose my life over some blonde bitch.”

My heart freezes.

Fuck, this is bad.

I’ve seen the way the men here—excluding Nikolai and Andrei—look at me, like I’m a nuisance, an object rather than a person.

Run. Instinct tells me to flee. But where to? My gaze immediately goes to the window. Is it worth the risk? I might do the job for them if I break my fucking neck in a fall.

“The Armanis are definitely watching us. The power outage at the cabin had to be their doing. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can return to the boss and soak up his appreciation for a job well done. Everyone else feels the same.”

“Maybe we should have our fun with her first.”

“And riskUdav’s wrath if he finds out?”

“So we don’t let him find out. I know where the spare key to her room is. You stay here while I get it.”

I’m already moving, hurrying to drag the chair from the corner and wedge it under the doorknob. This is the only way I can delay the inevitable.

Fucking stupid Nikolai. He’s always been so careful to make sure I’m safe in here, yet these assholes are moments away from getting in.

And when the fuck did I start depending on him for my safety?

This is my chance. As stupid as it may be.

I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, an outfit better suited for scaling down a fucking fort. I’m out of my fucking mind. I restart the TV show, hoping the noise will help to mask my escape. I opt for bare feet since I only have shoes that are more for aesthetics than function. And when I run, I’m going to fucking sprint for my life.

My heart races as I quickly work the window’s lock with my hairpin. When I open the window, my gaze narrows on the ocean in the distance. I need to avoid the town. No one close will help me. I have to find a way to the mainland and then figure out how to call my father and friends. But I’ll get to that. Right now, I need to focus on getting out.

When I look down, though, my stomach sinks. There’s a thick enough branch to land on, but that’s if I land on it and don’t slip. Then my gaze sinks to the ground.Fuck me.What if I miss the branch?

I sharpen my resolve, frustrated with myself. I’ve become complacent. These men have been waiting for an opportunity to hurt me. So why have I fallen under some kind of assumption that everything will be okay just because Nikolai tells me so?

I’m not a damsel in distress waiting in some tower. I’m more capable than I realize. If I’ve learned anything over these last few weeks, it’s that. I might’ve been raised to survive social circles, but I’ve learned I can do other things too. Like jumping out of a second-story window, skillfully landing on a tree branch, and scaling down it effortlessly.

Yep, that’s me, I try to convince myself, but even my inner voice is sarcastic.

I look back at the door when I hear another person speak. I have to move. Now. A nauseating swirl hits my stomach as I look back down, but I purse my lips and look at the base of the tree branch. I need to aim for that.

Slowly, I climb onto the window frame, the cool air of the evening hitting my face and tangling my hair. Okay, I can do this.

Without a second thought, I jump. My body comes to life, the adrenaline running its natural course as I fly through the air. But gravity is quick to take my wings. I tunnel out everything and focus only on the landing spot.

My body collapses against the tree, and I cling to it for dear life, my nails acting like claws as I dig them into the bark. And then I look down.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

No. I will not cower.

I find my next branch and jump to it. Then I find another and another before I land on the soft grass. My feet and hands are scratched up from the bark and my awkward landing, but none of that matters right now. All that matters is that I run.