Page 151 of The Darkness is Calling

A small noise from the direction of the door makes my heart beat faster, anticipating the moment when I’ll stand before him and tell him how much I want this marriage to actually work.

I almost smile as I quickly rise from the living room sofa and start rubbing my fingers together nervously, waiting to see his beautiful face.

“Darling! I’m home!”

I freeze.

The beating of my heart is drowned out by panic, because the deep voice I hear doesn’t belong to my husband.

It belongs to my former fiance.

Oliver.

Chapter 27

Ekaterina

What was supposed to be the day I hoped for a new beginning quickly turns into a nightmare, one I’m starting to think may be the last day of my life.

“Russian doll, Russian whore,” he says with revulsion, moving closer to me.

His cold face, devoid of any warm emotion, matches the gray two-piece suit and white shirt he wears with arrogance.

Four other men advance behind him, all with their weapons aimed at me.

“You have no chance of running, so don’t try to resist, Katya.”

Instinctively, I take a step back.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take my fiancee. Former fiancee, to be more precise.”

“I don’t understand. What do you still want from me? I know very well you didn’t want to marry me for romantic reasons, so don’t try to play the victim.”

“But I am a victim. Because that Russian bastard ruined my plans to expand toward Russia with his little intervention. Our wedding was an important step in a scheme put together by many people.”

He grins and emphasizes each word.

“So. Many. People. Including some from your country.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, coming even closer to me. My heart pounds hard, and my entire body begins to tremble.

I can’t die now. Not like this. Not before I have the chance to confess Artem what I feel.

Please, God, don’t do this to me. Give me the chance to see him at least one more time.

“You’ve pissed off a few very important people, and now they want you out of the picture for good.”

I look around, but every attempt to escape is cut off by the guns immediately cocked in my direction.

“But don’t worry. I didn’t come here to kill you. I came to take you to your beloved Pakhan. And then I’m going to kill you. But not before showing you how he dies.”

All I remember is a rag with a sweet smell pressed to my face, one that cuts every connection I have to reality in less than a few seconds. And when I wake up, any hope that it was all just a bad dream disappears when I realize I’m in an even worse one.

When I finally manage to open my heavy eyes, I realize my hands are bound in front of me with a pair of handcuffs and that I’m in a cold room, on a mattress that smells of mold and sweat. This improvised bed doesn’t even have a frame. It’s just laid out on the floor, on cold stone, while I’m surrounded in this small space, no more than ten square meters, by walls of old brick. The room has only one bulb on the ceiling, but I barely have time to come to my senses before the metal door opens.

Two men, dressed and armed like mercenaries ready for battle, appear in the doorway.