Page 44 of Savage Little Secret

How did I end up here?

I strain my mind, trying to find my last memory before I woke up in here. As I furrow my brow, pain radiates through my entire skull.

Something warm slides down my temple. Sticky. Metallic.

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest. Blood. How did I get hurt?

I grit my teeth and try to breathe slower, quelling my panic as much as I can so that I can remember what the hell happened.

The last thing I recall is being in Dmitri’s car, driving down the highway.

An image flashes through my mind.

A black van in my rear-view mirror, too close, too patient.

I latch onto the image and try to remember more, pushing my mind to fill in the gaps.

The van followed me for a while, but it didn’t seem all that strange to me because there weren’t many exits to take to get off the road. I figured that we were probably just heading in the same direction.

I swallow hard as I remember the van randomly speeding up until it was riding my bumper. I got over in the other lane and slowed down so that they could pass me, but they got behind me again. They wanted to be there.

I wince as the last piece falls into place in my mind.

Then the first hard impact. Metal screaming. My hands jerking the wheel as I lost control. They hit me again on the rear left, sending me off the road.

The world rolled. Glass rained down on me. My skull met something unforgiving and then…nothing.

Someone followed me. They wrecked me on purpose!

It has to be the Bratva.

Does Dmitri know? Does anyone?

Suddenly, the van stops, and I hear the driver’s door and passenger’s door open and shut. My heart stops as I wait, preparing myself for whatever is about to happen.

The doors rip open and cold air knifes in. Hands clamp down on me, efficient, practiced, hauling me off the bench.

“No! Get off me!” I thrash, blind and furious. “I’ll scream until someone hears me!”

They don’t answer. They don’t even breathe hard.

At least I assume they’re men.

They drag me out of the van and lead me across what feels like grass and then I hear our footsteps on a wooden porch.

I do everything that I can to notice as many details as possible, but my mind is a whirlwind as I stumble around, smashing my toes and shoulders against objects that I can’t see. Pain lances through me as I turn my head every which way, straining to hear certain noises.

A TV mumbles in the background. There are muffled voices that I can’t make out in the distance. The scent of cigarette smoke in the air.

I must be in a house, but I have no idea where. I don’t even know if I’m closer to the city than before or even farther away.

The men take me down a set of creaky stairs. The air turns damp and sour, moldy and dusty. We’re heading into a basement.

I do my best not to trip and crack my neck at the bottom of the steps, but they’re certainly no help as they pull me forward without any patience. By the time we make it to the bottom, every muscle in my body aches from being so tense.

“Whoever you are, let me go. You must know who I am. Which means you know who my father is—” My throat tightens. “And who my boyfriend is.”

Empty threats are all that I have right now.