Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
She’s always had this cold distance to her, but what I took for broken suddenly seemed so beautifully ruthless when armed with a gun. Anna Vasiliev has every reason to be a mess, but in that moment, I saw her in all her perfectly ruined glory. My little bird is, in fact, a little warrior.
The blood, the violence, the pretty little Russian with a gun… My dick had never been so hard. I’m not sure what makes me more sick; getting hard over killing a guy, or over a girl who’s spent her life being forced to fuck men.
My phone rings, and I take it from my pocket, exhaling a breath when I see Nero’s name on the screen. I turn my back and answer it. “Yeah?”
“How is it going?” he asks in a clipped voice.
“Fine.”
“So she’s okay?” I have to laugh at that. “Something funny?”
“I’m not sure she’ll ever be ‘okay’.” I shake my head.
There’s a beat of silence, the creak of an office chair. “Well, she needs to be.”
“The girl has been a sex slave for….how long was she in there?” He seems to know things about her I’m sure she doesn’t even know.
He clears his throat. “Nine years.”
“Nine…” I try to work that out. She barely looks eighteen.
“She was sold at thirteen.”
Fucking hell. I drag a hand through my hair, fighting rage and a crushing sense of despair at the thought of a thirteen-year-old Anna being taken and raped. It makes me sick to my stomach. “What the hell do you intend to do with her?” I’m practically growling down the phone at him now. I agreed to this, but fuck if she doesn’t eat away at whatever sliver of moral compass I have left.
“That’s my business. You agreed to this, and you owe me.” He’s right. Whichever way I turn with this, I’m cornered.
“Fine, but whatever she’s worth to you, I have a feeling Dominges might have figured it out.”
“Why?”
“He hired some mercenaries to try and take her.”
Nero lets out a string of curses.
“They didn’t succeed of course.” I stare up at the bodies hanging like Christmas decorations from the underpass. “And I know he said he wanted her back so he could kill her, but this is extreme even for him. I can’t see him going this far over an escaped girl. If there’s something you want to tell me, now would be the time.”
“Just protect her. No matter what.”
“You’ll be the one with the debt by the end of this.”
“Yeah, yeah, I owe you my first born child. I know.”
I smile as I hang up. Turning around, I give the bodies one last parting glance. “Let’s go!”
I sit on the sun lounger, cigar smoke drifting over my face as I watch fireflies dance in the darkness. I’m rarely alone. Even my own home is like a fortress, full of soldiers and staff. Someone always wants something from me. Out here, the air feels a little easier to breathe, calming. Smoke dances through the night air as I exhale, the scent mixing with night Jasmine and chlorine. Lifting my beer to my lips, I take a sip, the ice-cold liquid sliding down my throat. Something moves in the darkness beyond the glow of the pool, and I narrow my eyes.
Slowly, I uncoil from my spot on the lounger and reach behind me, my fingers wrapping around the gun tucked into the back of my jeans. Stalking around the edge of the pool, I keep hold of my beer and walk out into the gardens. Moving through the gap between the hedges, I snap my gun up in front of me when something moves in my periphery. Haunted blue eyes lock with mine without a trace of fear. I lower the gun and tuck it back into my jeans.
“It’s late, Anna. You shouldn’t be creeping around in the early hours of the morning.”
Her chin touches her chest, and I swear I see the hint of a smile before her hair covers her face. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d creep around out here.”
Did she just get fucking smart with me? “You know, the gardens are kind of pointless if you can’t see them.”
“I like it.” She turns away and starts walking towards the pond. I find myself following her, watching as she trails her fingers over the petals of the roses as she passes. She’s barefoot again, and her floor-length white skirt brushes the grass as she walks. Golden hair falls down her back, messy waves almost brushing her ass. She looks like a lost ghost, wandering in the darkness, haunted.
She stops at the pond and sits on the edge again, brushing her fingers across the surface of the water. The fish swim up to greet her, opening and closing their mouths, trying to suck on her fingers. For a moment she looks…serene.