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Maybe Viking truly intended for this room to be her tomb. Maybe he hadn’t spoken merely in anger when he’d said she’d never leave this place.
The discerning thought made her shiver, and she pulled the tattered jacket—the only stitch of clothing she had—closer for some warmth. It didn’t help. Her toes had turned into little ice cubes, and a shiver took hold of her body. She slumped onto the cot she slept on and made herself small. She needed to save her energy. If Viking intended to keep her here, she might have to fight her way out.
Speaking of fighting. Her body felt stiff and sore as she pushed herself up and went searching for pieces of broken glass from earlier. Viking had just grabbed her weapon from her and thrown it away. He hadn’t even bothered to take it with him, thinking she wasn’t a threat, anyway. He might have been right about that, once. But she’d spent the last decade learning to fend for herself and her daughter. Learning to kick ass was part of that. For his sake, she hoped he didn’t find out about her knifing skills up close and personal. Her lips tightened when she remembered the ease with which he’d taken her weapon. She hadn’t been prepared for him then, but she would be now. Whatever happened, she was getting out of here, alive. Giving up was not part of her vocabulary.
She found the shard of glass lodged in a barrel on her left. She held in a hiss when it cut into her finger. Blood trickled down her palm, heating her skin. Stifling a curse, she dropped back onto the cot.
Weapon. Check.
Another shiver wracked her body, and a clammy heat chilled her. Damn, she needed to preserve her strength. She needed a decent meal. No food had been delivered all day, and she wondered if he was trying to starve her. So much for tiramisu-filled days.
Viking Skarsgard was now both the knight and the villain in her story.
Thinking back on that same morning, how her body had responded to him, she felt herself flush. Sheer madness was what it was. Even after all this time, even though her heart and brain knew they were over, her body longed for him. He had been the only man she’d ever slept with. There had been no one else before or after him. He had been so patient with her for their first time, doing everything he could to make her feel comfortable and not hurt her. That tenderness hadn’t lasted long, nor had she wanted it to. Once her body got accustomed to his size—and he was big in every way—Viking had let the reins loose. He had owned every inch of her body, taking what he wanted, and giving her everything she needed in return. Being near him and not touching him had been an impossible task. They said diamonds were a girl’s best friend, but hers had been Viking. He had been her best friend, her lover, her everything. Never in a million years had she expected for them to end up like this; from the highest high to the lowest low.
She firmly shut the door to memory lane and concentrated on Vicky. Was she okay? She had reacted to her message, which was a distress call on her behalf, and—as rehearsed—had thrown away her phone. Vicky needed to be untraceable when Pedro went looking for her. Unfortunately, that meant Elena hadn’t been able to reach her again, either. Vicky was supposed to look for Viking the second she got that message. Viking hadn’t mentioned her, though, and finding out he was the one to throw her in this damp place, she’d been too stumped to ask. She knew he would never forgive her, but she needed to see her daughter. Needed to know Vicky was okay.
Just when she thought another day would go by without any food, Baran came, or as she’d dubbed him, snarky jerk.
“Rise and shine, treacherous rose.”
“I-I’m freezing,” she said through chattering teeth. “Can I please have a blanket?”
“I’ve got delicious day-old, somewhat-stale bread and water,” he said, ignoring her plea. “At first, I wanted to get you Turkish tea, which is the best tea in the world, but then I decided that your drink should resemble your heart. You know, cold. Ice cold.”
The single light bulb made his pitch-dark hair and black custom-made suit shimmer. She caught the gold glint of a crescent moon and star pendant around his neck.
Her hand went to her lion pendant. The necklace hadn’t left her neck since the day Viking had put it on her. Right now, though, she debated using the pointy end of it to gouge out his eyes.
Baran sauntered up to her and put a tray and a cup before her.
She scooted off the mattress and went for the cup. Her heart sank when she noticed it was truly plain water. Ice cold water. No coffee or tea to warm her up.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his dark eyes inspecting her, as if she was some kind of novelty he couldn’t figure out.
“So, you are the legendary Elena? The one that got away.”
Judging by his tone, he wished her to be gone far, far away.
For a second the world spun, but she ignored that. This might be her one chance to get out of this crypt. Although Baran was tall and toned, he didn’t have the muscle Viking packed, which meant she had a shot to overpower him.
His brows furrowed when she walked up to him, keeping her hand holding the concealed shard of glass.
“If you don’t take me to my daughter, I will be the one who slits your throat.”
He cocked a brow. “Will you now?”
Before he could blink, she pressed the glass against his throat. He didn’t even flinch. Either he was tired of life, or truly fearless. Her mother’s words came into mind.
People without fear simply have nothing to lose. If you have nothing to lose, it means you have nothing you love. If you don’t have anything you love, you’re already dead inside, or perhaps, you simply wish to die.
She wondered if there was any truth to them.
“As I said, I need to talk to my daughter.”
“Let me guess. I’m going to help you with that?”
At least he wasn’t slow. “Bingo.”
