Page 20 of Devil’s Reign

The ugly truth sinks in for the first time: humans will do anything to survive and protect their loved ones. Even sacrifice themselves. And that’s exactly what Mamma did on that ship—what she’s still doing.

I need to get out of my head before I spiral completely.

I glance around the room helplessly, searching for anything that might serve as a distraction, but there’s nothing here that can do that. No TV. No books. No magazines.

Fuck it. Sudden determination propels me to the door. I turn the handle hard enough to make a point. Predictably, it doesn’t budge. I hadn’t expected it to, but irritation still flares as my fist slams against the wood. No answer.

My second fist joins the first, and I keep knocking, shifting from my knuckles to the heel of my hand when my fingers start to ache. I knock and knock until finally someone snaps from the other side, “Stop that!”

I raise my chin even though he obviously can’t see me. “Get me your boss. I have something to say to him. He’ll want to hear it.” The last part is added for good measure.

There’s a short pause, then, “Mr. Petrov isn’t here.”

I’m not sure if the man is lying or telling the truth. It’s the middle of the day—where else would a nightclub owner be during daylight hours?

“I know he’s home,” I bluff. “Get him to come in here right now, or I’ll throw myself out the window.”

“Nice try. But the windows have been locked remotely. You won’t be able to open them from that end.”

No way. I’m still not sure about his claim that Vanya isn’t home, but I walk away from the door to check the windows anyway. My lips part when I realize they don’t even have handles. They must be automatic. Huh. I make my way back to the door and knock again to grab his attention. “Are you there?”

An irritated sigh is my only answer, but at least it confirms he’s still listening.

“I want to see Vanya as soon as he’s back,” I demand, trying to sound authoritative rather than desperate. “Tell him I need to speak with him. It’s important.”

Silence.

With nothing left to do, I drag myself back to the bed and flop down dramatically. Looks like I’m stuck overthinking and second-guessing myself until Vanya decides to grace me with his presence.

His name is Ivan, damn it.

12

MELANI

I’m blinking up at the ceiling, counting the seconds of my captivity like a prisoner marking days on a cell wall, when voices drift in from outside my door.

I jump off the bed and hurry over, leaning against it to hear better. But the damn doors in this hotel are too thick. All I catch are muffled sounds.

Is that a woman’s voice?

A hot, ugly pit opens up in my stomach.

Is he bringing women here while I’m locked up? While I’m about to lose my mind with boredom? Absolutely not. Without a second thought, I start slapping my palms against the door.

“Open this door! Open it right now!” I scream, hoping that even if they can’t hear my words, they’ll at least hear my voice. “Ivan!”

The voices stop. Did they hear me? Encouraged, I continue making a racket until I hear the now-familiar beep of the code being entered.

The door swings open, and standing in the doorway is a thoroughly pissed-off Ivan Petrov. His rage reminds me of Papa’s anger. I flinch back instinctively, bracing for the blow that might come. Instead, his eyes narrow at my reaction. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” The word comes out incredulous, almost a laugh.

And just like that, my confidence surges back. Despite the anger etched into his face, his voice is calm, and he doesn’t make any kind of move to come inside and yell or hit me. He’s not Papa.

“I don’t know, Ivan.” I inject as much sarcasm as I can muster into his name. “Maybe my problem is that I’ve been locked inside this room, alone, with no information about my situation or what you’re planning to do to me.”

My voice lowers at the thought. Is he going to kill me? Use my attraction to him to exploit me for sex? Torture me for information I don’t have? Not knowing what comes next somehow feels worse than the kidnapping itself.