Page 55 of Ruthless Salvation

I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Luke, so I ignored the shadow tailing us with plans of calling Torin as soon as I was alone. The conversation wouldn’t be easy, but I couldn’t let this go unanswered. The whole change in circumstances sat like a boulder on my chest. I’d gone from cautious optimism about our next visit to wary hopelessness.

“Thanks again, Luke.” I forced a warm smile, despite the churning in my gut. “I had a phenomenal day.”

He dropped a quick kiss on my cheek. “Told you it would be worth it. Now you’re one of the crew.” He grinned at me before unlocking his door.

“Have a good night,” I replied as I opened my door.

My mood deflated quicker than a punctured balloon once I was alone. Frustrated, I yanked my drapes fully closed and changed into comfy clothes. I didn’t even have a chance to grab my phone when a knock sounded at the door.

Looks like I’m not the only one with a bone to pick.

I’d like to see Torin try to be upset with me after pulling a stunt like watching me all day. I shook my head and steeled myself to stay firm. I refused to fall into the cycle of abuse and apologies. Either we were working toward trust and healthy behaviors or it was over. He needed to understand how important that was to me, and the only way to do that was for him to know where I was coming from.

While I hadn’t planned to have my little unveiling that night, it looked like the time had come. I would do what I promised and come clean, but I’d also lay down an ultimatum. He would have to make some serious changes if he wanted to move forward with me.

I turned off the television and walked to the door, taking a single calming breath before opening it.

The possibility that someone other than Torin might be beyond the door never occurred to me. I only saw a gold tooth glinting from a wicked grin before a large hand clamped tight around my throat.

“YA nashel tebya.” The terrifying stranger brought his face close to mine, vodka heavy on his breath. “I got you.”

Present

He found me.

Damyon. The devil who haunted my worst nightmares.

Not the man himself, but the result was the same. This man would take me back to his boss, and the remainder of my days would be a living hell.

Fear choked off my airway even more thoroughly than the snarling man maneuvering me inside my apartment. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Boss will give me stars for this. His newest vor.” His heavy Russian accent was even harder to understand with alcohol slurring his words.

I wanted to scream for help but couldn’t make a sound, which was probably good because Luke would come bounding in and likely end up dead. I couldn’t risk that. I would have to handle this on my own.

STOP PANICKING. You absolutely do not have that luxury. You have to think.

I gave myself a mental slap and focused on saving myself. The Russian brute was drunk off his ass. All I had to do was break free of his hold, then run.

Hours upon hours of self-defense classes flooded to the forefront of my mind. But before I could act on any one action, he released me just long enough to backhand me across the face. Hard.

“I knew we find you. Now we get out this shithole.” His hands clamped down around my throat again, but this time, I was ready.

I yanked down on his wrists, using them as leverage to kick him in the groin. His arms instinctively recoiled, his body doubling over, but he still blocked my exit as he hissed a string of Russian curses. I whirled around to reach for the ceramic vase I kept by the window, but he snagged my oversized T-shirt before I could get to it. I was yanked back against him before he wrapped his arms around me, lifted me in the air, then slammed my body sideways onto the floor.

Every bone in my body rattled on impact. I had tried to protect my head but was stunned nonetheless.

“Stupid American bitch not know how to behave.” His boot planted itself in my gut. The pain and flashes of memory had me heaving, acid burning my throat.

This couldn’t be happening.

I refused to accept it. This drunk wouldnottake me back to Damyon, not while I still had breath in my body.

My eyes shot to the baseball bat I kept under the loveseat. It was just within reach. I grabbed it and lurched to my feet as quickly as I could.

My attacker grabbed the end of the bat, his hand sliding off like a knife through butter. He gaped in surprise at his hand to discover he held a sheer knee-high stocking, which I had placed on the bat for exactly that purpose.

“Surprise,asshole.” I swung at his knee like I was in the World Series and the bases were loaded.