Page 51 of Blood Code

But I wasn’t a witch, and therefore I was terrible at conjuring anything.

So, yeah, no one believed me.

But I didn’t care.

By the time we got out of the lake, I was still fuming, but I let the day play out. We hung out on the beach, played volleyball, swam, paddleboarded, and grilled burgers before ending the night around the campfire.

Then, because I still hadn’t gotten over it, I excused myself early and slipped into a room at the lodge that was definitely not mine.

Beneath the black poplin dress I’d worn all day at the beach, I now had a red lace bra and matching underwear. Not the most appropriate outfit for an ambush, but I hadn’t really thought this through.

Armed with rope, my gun, and my taser, I waited until Polina entered her room for the night, then tased her in the neck and caught her before her limp body hit the floor.

Once she came to, I tied her up and marched her out to a hut in the middle of the woods.

Beyond that, I didn’t really have a plan.

I probably shouldn’t kill her.

That was probably a line too far.

But I forced her to her knees and pressed my gun against her head anyway.

“Touch Severin again, flirt with him again, even look in his direction, and I will kill you.”

Unfortunately, Polina couldn’t really respond because I’d gagged her pretty tightly.

Oops.

Tears streaked down her face, and I was fairly certain she'd peed her pants, which made me feel a tiny bit guilty.

“Oh my God, get yourself together, girl. You’re a mafia princess. Surely you’ve been kidnapped or threatened with a gun at least once in your life.”

That only made her cry harder. She was pathetic, and a tiny bit of guilt began creeping in.

Well, what was I supposed to do now?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This was stupid.

Then it got substantially worse when a branch cracked somewhere outside.

Someone was walking through the woods at midnight.

Another branch snapped, and Polina whined loudly through her gag, trying to attract the attention of whoever was out there.

Leaves crunched beneath the approaching footsteps, and Polina’s muffled cries grew louder.

I slapped her across the face, hard, and pointed my gun at the door.

The door swung open slowly, almost tauntingly, and Severin appeared, backlit by moonlight, his features still visible. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe with lazy confidence.

One eyebrow rose as he took in the scene.

Polina knelt at my feet, her head bowed.

“Are you jealous?” His voice was velvet-soft, threaded with dark amusement.