Page 80 of Bound in Possession

"Maksim!" I cry out, stumbling back against the wall as hands and shoulders shove past me in the chaos.

"Camilla!"

I reach out blindly in the dark to right myself, but before I can find his hands, a massive arm wraps like an iron band around my waist. A heavy hand claps over my mouth, cutting off my scream, and I am violently yanked backward, dragged through a heavy set of double doors into a dark service corridor.

The scent of cheap tobacco and cold sweat hits my nose. It’s not Maksim.

Panic spikes through my veins, hot and sharp. Remembering the gun strapped to my thigh, I throw my weight back, slamming my heel onto the man's foot. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for me to slam my right wrist down with all my force—pressing the center gem of the panic bracelet twice, hard.

A sharp, microscopic ping vibrates against my skin just as another man grabs my arms from behind. I fight like a wild animal, kicking and thrashing against them in the narrow hallway.

In the violent struggle, one of the men shoves me hard against the concrete wall, my shoulder slamming into the bricks. A harsh snap echoes near my collarbone as my dress rips, damaging the hidden microphone wired into my bodice before I can say a word.

"Get her moving!" a voice barks in the shadows.

Before I can reach for the gun beneath my gown, they drag me down a set of stairs and kick open a heavy metal exit door.

Cold night air hits my face as we burst out into a deserted side alley. Sitting there with its engine roaring is a blacked-out SUV, rear doors thrown wide open. Inside wait three men wearing dark tactical masks.

"Let me go!" I scream, but they overpower me, shoving me violently into the back seat. The door slams shut behind me, the tires screech against the pavement, and the car tears into the night.

I reach down to my thigh, my fingers frantically searching beneath the torn silk of my gown, but my heart drops into my stomach. The holster is empty. The gun is gone—either knocked loose during the violent struggle in the corridor or stripped off me by the men who dragged me out.

A cold, nauseating wave of disgust washes over me. The thought of their hands anywhere near my skin makes me gag, but I force my breathing to steady as the SUV hurtles through the pitch-black streets, carrying me further and further away from Maksim.

The car eventually turns down a long, gated driveway, pulling up to a secluded, heavily guarded estate tucked deep in the countryside.

When they drag me out of the vehicle and usher me inside, I realize something that chillingly settles deep in my bones: they haven’t bothered to blindfold me. They aren't hiding their faces, and they aren't hiding where we are. That frightens me far more than anything else could. They aren't worried about me identifying this place, because they have no intention of letting me leave here alive.

They shove me into a dimly lit room with high windows and exposed brick, forcing me into a heavy wooden chair before binding my wrists tightly behind my back. Though cold terror claws at the back of my throat, I refuse to let them see me break. I keep my chin up, my jaw set, even as the coarse rope bites into my skin.

As the men finish securing the knots and step back, the door swings open.

Viktor saunters in, a smug, sickening grin plastered across his face. I don't even flinch. I'm not surprised. I just glare at him, my eyes narrowing into slits of pure ice.

Viktor lets out a soft, amused laugh, stepping closer and resting his hands on his hips as he looks down at me. "Look at you," he sneers, his voice dripping with condescension. "Still playing the brave little Pakhan's wife in your pretty silk dress and diamonds. Do you really think he cares about you, Camilla?"

I say nothing, holding his gaze with absolute silence.

"Maksim only bought you from your family because I threatened his territory," Viktor says, taking another slow step around my chair. "It wasn't affection. It wasn't love. Men like Maksim and me... we don't love, little girl. We acquire. We own. We use. You are nothing more than a strategic piece on his chessboard, and tonight, I took his piece."

His words are meant to tear me down, to strip away my hope and leave me trembling, but I refuse to give him the reaction he craves. I’ve seen the way Maksim acts with me. He cares. I know that much.

I keep my expression impassive, hiding the panic beneath a wall of cold restraint.

While he talks, enjoying the sound of his own voice, I don't waste a second. I listen carefully, studying everything. I note the two guards stationed by the heavy reinforced door, the way the lock turns from the outside, the placement of the high windows, the balcony across the room, and the small pocket knife tucked into the belt loop of the guard standing closest to my left.

Viktor wants me terrified. He wants me obedient, crying, and begging for mercy. But I keep every emotion locked tightly beneath the surface.

I know Maksim is coming. I know he will tear this city apart to find me, and I know the distress beacon on my wrist pulsed before they threw me in that car. But I also know I cannot afford to simply sit here like a helpless damsel, waiting to be saved.

If an opening appears, I'm going to take it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MAKSIM

It has been one hour.