Page 152 of The Darkness is Calling

One of them, a redhead with thick, tattooed arms, comes closer, speaking to me in a calm, but firm voice. “Up. I don’t want to take you by force, so try to cooperate.”

“Wow, I can almost feel how much you care,” I mutter furious, struggling to get up from the floor.

Slightly dizzy, I’m allowed to rub my forehead and hold on to the wall until I manage to coordinate my steps, which at first are a little unsteady.

Supported by him, his grip careful on my arm so I won’t run or fall, I follow a hallway a few meters long, also made of brick. There are four doors on each side, but we stop at the last one.

The redhead’s colleague opens it and makes room for us to enter.

The first thing I notice in my confused state is that this room seems much larger and has only a row of windows high up on the wall, letting in natural light from outside. In the same second, I realize there are several men here.

Among them, at the table in the center, with his head turned toward me and his hands tied behind his back, is... Artem.

I freeze. My ugliest nightmares take shape before my eyes in this very moment.

“The Russian doll is here!” exclaims the man behind him, the one I’m beginning to hate more than anything in this world.

Oliver places his palms on the shoulders of the man now holding my gaze, while Artem’s whole body is tense.

He is still in his usual black suit, but even with his hair disheveled and his lower lip slightly swollen, with a trace of blood on it, he is still a thousand times more beautiful than the bastard touching him right now.

“Are you okay?”

Artem’s deep voice pulls me out of my paralysis, and I think it’s the first time I’ve breathed since entering this room.

Someone pushes me toward the table and guides me into the chair in front of him.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, firmer this time.

At first, I nod, then I manage to form the words. “Yes. You?”

“We didn’t gather here so you two could chat,” Oliver cuts in, visibly irritated. “You had plenty of time for that after you ruined a perfectly beautiful wedding. Mother was terribly disappointed that she wasted her money on decorations with white orchids that weren’t even to her taste, but apparently you wanted them.”

“We didn’t gather here to listen to you talk either.” Artem’s voice is calm, still looking at me, as if he’s checking whether I’m truly alright.

He seems in control of himself, but if I’ve known Artem even a little, I know very well that beneath that impassive mask is a very dangerous monster, one now planning the end of the world.

“On the other hand, from what I’ve heard, your mommy is a fucking cunt, especially when it comes to you. And you, like a good little boy, have always tried to please her, even though it never impressed her. Your opinion didn’t really matter, which is why you tend to talk a lot with who are forced to listen to you, isn’t it? Like now.”

Only at the end does he move his gaze to the men around us. There are four more, including the two who brought me here.

“That says a lot to the people working for you now. Or for your mommy.”

His words provoke a violent reaction from Oliver, unlike anything I’ve ever seen from him. He punches Artem in the back, then in the shoulder, and finally tries to hit him in the face too. He manages it, but my Russian dodges as much as he can, and the blow almost misses.

Even a woman hits better than he does.

That only pisses my former fiance even more, but one of the men who brought me in, the blondred-haired one with freckles on his nose and cheeks, immediately comes beside him, whispering something in his ear.

I don’t know what he says, but Oliver straightens his back and slowly nods, adjusting his jacket.

“Correct. Better,” he tells him, then turns back to us. “Anyway, there’s no point in lowering myself to your level and getting my own hands dirty. My job is to destroy you financially, and that’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll leave the violent part to the experts in that field.”

As if on cue, the door opens, and another man steps in, radiating arrogance and malice from every pore.

His black suit is stretched over a body swollen with steroids, but I would recognize that malicious grin anywhere. He is one of Artem’s men, someone I met a few times at the villa and disliked from the very first second.

My gaze flies immediately to Artem, but not even this time does a trace of surprise appear on his face.