Page 15 of Wicked Villain

Jesus. I can’t breathe.

I can’t even remember how to. I really might not make it out of here.

“This. Way.” He stabs the air with his thumb and waves me forward. I move.

The shakiness in my legs returns, as does that run-out-of-my-skin sensation from earlier. This time, it’s a million times worse. Earlier, all I had was Danillo to contend with. These guys are a whole other level of bad.

I will my body to keep going, but it’s hard. Hard to keep going forward when you know you’re walking right into a trap. And what am I? Bait? Leverage?

What does it matter? Why am I even trying to put a label on it? It’s all the same thing in the criminal underworld.

We take the steps up to the front door. Before we reach the top, the door opens and an elderly man stands by the door dressed in a butler’s uniform.

He steps aside so we can walk in, then he and the brother exchange words in Russian. I hate the way they glance at me as though I were some sort of specimen getting prepped for an experiment.

The butler nods and saunters away, then the brother signals for me to follow. As if I had a choice of doing anything different.

I follow, glancing at the wide, satin walls and chandeliers above. Then I spot two hulking guards at the foot of the stairs, armed with machine guns.

We have guards at home, too. It’s a must for security. But we never have them inside the house unless there’s an event. Like tonight.

Mama finds the presence of guards with guns in the house unsettling. Papa humored her over the years to keep the peace.

The guards step aside, allowing us to proceed up the stairs, and I instantly feel worse. Things were bad when I just had Lev’s brother and Roman to worry about. Now they have company.

God, listen to me. I’m weighing up the danger as if I plan to fight my way out of it.

But seriously… what am I going to do?

At the moment, the only option I have is to follow this man blindly and do what I’m told.

I don’t want him to blow my brains out, and I need to know my mother is safe. Anything could have happened back at the house. Anything.

What if they’re all… dead?

My heart trips, and my throat threatens to close. No, I mustn’t think like that.

This whole ordeal seems to have been carefully planned. There would be no point in keeping me alive if everyone at the house were dead.

Unless…

Like those men from the past, Lev wants revenge for something my father did.

Maybe Lev doesn’t care if my father witnesses my demise. Those men didn’t. They would have sold Gabrielle and killed me, and that would have been enough for them.

Stop, Allegra. Stop it right now.

Brainstorming all the terrible things that could happen isn’t going to help. I have to focus on one thing at a time. That means what’s happening right now, as in this very moment.

We reach the first-floor landing and continue down a narrow hallway. There’s a long French window at the end.

Lev’s brother stops by a door that looks like it may belong to a bedroom and opens it. “You will wait in here.” Again, he waves me forward in that brash manner like he’s herding cattle.

I don’t look at him. I just walk into the room, head up, back straight.

But it’s not a bedroom. Far from it.

A metal chair sits in the center, and the walls are exposed bricks. Floorboards have replaced the thick carpet that lines the landing, and at the far end of the room a small table with a glass of water is set out on top. Next to that is a plate of… biscuits?