Chapter 145
Kara
Viktor's hand shot out, grabbing Alexei's shoulder hard enough to make the smaller man yelp. "I said don't touch her. Don't even think about her. We deliver the package intact or we don't deliver at all." His eyes, flat and reptilian, fixed on me. "You better stay quiet, little Luna, or I'll make sure you regret it."
He reached in and grabbed me by the arm, his grip bruising even through my sleeve, and hauled me out of the truck like I weighed nothing. My legs, numb from being bound and from the cold, couldn't support me. I would have fallen if Viktor hadn't simply thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of grain, my stomach slamming against the hard muscle of his shoulder hard enough to drive the air from my lungs.
The world tilted and spun as he carried me across what looked like an abandoned industrial complex. Through my inverted, bouncing view, I caught glimpses of rusted corrugated metal walls, broken windows with jagged glass teeth, and snow-covered debris scattered across cracked concrete. The air reeked of mildew, old smoke, and something chemical that made my eyes water.
We passed through a door hanging crooked on its hinges into a space that might once have been a canning factory. The interior was barely warmer than outside, lit by a few bare bulbs that cast sickly yellow light over peeling paint and water-stained walls. In one corner, a rusted iron stove burned with weak flames that did nothing to cut the chill. The floor was littered with empty vodka bottles, cigarette butts, and moldy cardboard boxes that released clouds of spores when kicked.
But it was the smell that hit me hardest—the overwhelming stench of unwashed bodies, cheap tobacco, and the aggressive, corrupted scent of multiple male wolves whose pheromones had none of the clean, powerful clarity of true pack wolves. These were rogues, I realized with growing horror. Outcasts and criminals, their scents muddy and wrong in a way that made my suppressed wolf whimper.
Viktor dumped me onto a wooden table scarred with knife marks and burn scars. I landed hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs again, my bound hands trapped painfully beneath me. Through watering eyes, I saw four or five other men scattered around the room, playing cards and drinking from unlabeled bottles. When they turned to look at me, their expressions made ice crystallize in my veins.
They looked at me the way predators look at wounded prey. The way men look at something they can use and discard.
"Well, well," one of them said in Russian, setting down his cards. "Boss really outdid himself this time. She's prettier than the photos."
"And she smells ripe," another added, standing up. "Even through whatever they put on that collar. Can you imagine what she'd be like in heat?"
"You can imagine all you want," Viktor said coldly, his hand dropping to the gun at his hip. "But if any of you touch her, Boss will feed you to his wolves piece by piece. She's not entertainment. She's leverage."
The room fell into sullen silence, though the predatory stares didn't waver. I forced myself to meet their eyes, to show no fear even as my heart hammered against my ribs. I'd survived worse than their stares. I'd survived years of being looked at like I was nothing.
I would survive this too.
Alexei appeared at Viktor's side, his nervous energy making him twitch and fidget. Without warning, he reached out and ripped the tape from my mouth in one brutal motion. The adhesive tore away a layer of skin, leaving my lips raw and bleeding. I gasped, tasting copper, biting back the cry of pain that wanted to escape.
"There," Alexei said with a nasty smile. "Now you can scream all you want. No one will hear you out here."
I worked my jaw, gathering what moisture I could in my dry mouth, and forced myself to speak. My voice came out hoarse and cracking, but I made sure every word was clear. "What... what do you want from me?"
Viktor's eyebrows rose slightly, as if he hadn't expected me to speak at all. "What do we want?" He exchanged a glance with Alexei. "Clever little Luna. Boss said you were smart. Not like your idiot mother."
The mention of my mother sent a spike of adrenaline through my system, cutting through some of the drug haze. "Are you going to kill me like you killed Scarlett Reeves?" I asked, my voice gaining strength. "Like you killed my parents?"
The room went absolutely silent. Even the card players froze, bottles halfway to their lips. Alexei's face went white, then flushed red, his eyes darting to Viktor like a child caught doing something wrong.
"Shut up," Viktor said, but there was something in his expression—a flicker of surprise, maybe, or calculation. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" I pushed, even though every survival instinct screamed at me to stay quiet. But information was power, and right now it was the only weapon I had. "I know Scarlett Reeves was investigating my mother's connection to Konstantin. I know she went missing from a warehouse that smelled just like the chemicals I can smell on that cloth you used. And I know my parents disappeared running from the same people who just kidnapped me from my own home."
Alexei let out a strangled laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Boss was right. You are too smart for your own good. Just like that actress bitch who couldn't keep her nose out of—"
"Shut. Up." Viktor's voice cracked like a whip, making Alexei flinch. He turned to me, his expression carved from ice. "Boss didn't send us here to answer your questions. You only need to know one thing: you have value. For now."
He walked to a corner and returned with a dented metal cup filled with cloudy, yellow-tinged water that had suspicious particles floating in it. He thrust it at me. "Drink."
I looked at the cup, then at him, and shook my head. "No."
His eyes narrowed. "You've been unconscious for over an hour. You need water."
"I need water that won't drug me again," I countered, my voice steady despite the way my hands shook behind my back. "Or poison me. Or make me compliant. So no, thank you."
For a long moment, Viktor just stared at me. Then, impossibly, one corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Tougher than I expected. Those three spoiled Alpha princes really picked a mate with spine." He tossed the cup aside, water splashing across the concrete floor. "Fine. Thirst a while longer. Maybe it'll teach you some respect."
He grabbed my arm again—always my arm, never anywhere more intimate, I noted—and hauled me off the table. With one hand, he pulled out a tactical knife that gleamed wickedly in the dim light. I went rigid, but he only used it to saw through the rope binding my ankles, the blade so close to my skin I could feel its cold edge.
"Walk," he ordered, keeping his grip on my arm as he steered me toward a doorway I hadn't noticed before. My legs, finally free but numb and unsteady, nearly gave out with the first step. He didn't slow down, just dragged me along as I stumbled and fought to keep my feet under me.