Page 42 of Bleed with Me

“You’re tying your survival to a man whose last rational decision was letting you suck the soul out of his dick while he was chained to a bed,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up, a mix of helplessness and horrified disbelief written all over him.

“Worked so far,” I said dryly, lifting a challenging brow. I didn’t want to admit what we both knew. We were incredibly screwed.

Lucas laughed hysterically, the sound bouncing off the walls of my closet. After a moment of me glaring at him, he exhaled in defeat.

“He saved us,” he admitted, head leaning back against the shelf. “If he had told his brother instead of hiding you, we’d be dead. Or wishing we were.”

Tension slipped from my shoulders, just a little.

“So,” I murmured, turning my head toward Dorian’s pictures. “Dorian Zhumagulov is on our side.”

“For now,” Lucas exhaled, his eyes glued to the wall that could answer too many questions about the man he barely knew. “He’s on his own side, but for some reason, that side currently includes keeping you alive.”

My phone rang before I could reply. The screen lit up with a name that made my stomach drop to my knees.

Dad.

All the air vanished from my lungs. Lucas saw my expression and leaned closer to see who called.

“Answer,” he said, pointing at the phone. “If you don’t, he’ll send someone.”

Silently agreeing, I cleared my throat, pressed accept, and put the phone to my ear.

“Yes,” I let out, making sure my voice was neutral.

“Nina,” my father’s baritone slid through the speaker, smooth and cold as polished marble. “You’ve ignored your aunt and your future mother-in-law for three days.”

Future mother-in-law. The phrase scraped down my spine like a serrated knife.

“I was sick,” I replied, clenching my palm into a tight fist. “Migraine.”

“You’re always sick when something is expected of you,” he said calmly, which somehow hurt more than if he shouted. “Fortunately, I am not so easily avoided. Friday, dinner at my house. Seven o’clock. No excuses.”

“Dad, I have things to handle,” I shot back. “Real things. Maybe postpone the family circus for once?”

“Nina.” He cut me off with my name alone, stripped of warmth or any fatherly love. “You will be there. We will finalize the wedding date with Sonny’s family. Your little rebellion ends now.”

Anger sparked hot behind my ribs. I wanted to scream, to tell him I wasn’t thirteen anymore, to swear I would vanish across continents before letting him barter my life like a contract clause. But I knew the crushing truth. He would die. And I also couldn’t forget about my family. My resistance was for nothing. It would only serve my entire clan to Zyon Zhumagulov.

“Yes, Dad,” I answered at last, grimacing at Lucas, who listened to my every word. “I’ll be there.”

“Good girl,” he praised, satisfaction bleeding through the speaker like quiet poison. “Get some rest. You sound tired.”

The line went dead. I lowered the phone, pulse roaring in my ears and fury simmering beneath the obedience he’d wrung from me. Lucas watched me, his earlier panic replaced with pity.

“Friday?” he asked quietly.

“Friday,” I confirmed, the word tasting like venom. “Seven.”

“Sonny will be there?” He didn’t even try to hide the disgust.

“Most probably in the front row,” I muttered, eyes shifting back to Dorian’s mosaic. My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. “Time is running out, Lucas.” My vision blurred as I stared at Dorian’s gorgeous smile with dimples on his cheeks. “I have a couple of weeks at best to make sure I don’t end up in Sonny’s cage, and Malin doesn’t put my head on a spike.”

“So,” he exhaled heavily. “Normal schedule. Perfect.”

I huffed a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

A couple of weeks at best.