Chapter 169
Kara
But maybe I didn't need to break it. Maybe I just needed to work around it.
I closed my eyes and focused on the bond, on the three threads that should link me to my mates. The collar suppressed them, dampened them almost to nothing. But "almost" wasn't "completely."
If I concentrated—if I pushed past pain and exhaustion and fear—could I send them something?
I thought of Asher's steady presence, Blake's fierce protectiveness, Cole's gentle strength. How they'd held me on the yacht, how they'd promised never to let me go.
I'm alive, I thought, throwing the words down the bond with every ounce of will. I'm alive and fighting. Don't stop looking.
Nothing. Just empty silence.
Then—so faint I almost missed it—a flicker of warmth. Desperate, frantic searching. And underneath, three voices in unison:
We're coming.
The connection severed, leaving me gasping. But it had been there. They'd heard me.
I just had to stay alive long enough for them to find me.
I walked to the photographs, studying each face carefully. Different women, different lives, but all sharing that eerie perfection. What connected them? What made them worthy of Boss's attention?
My gaze drifted back to the photo above the bed. The woman with warm brown eyes and golden-brown hair. The curve of her jaw, the shape of her smile...
My breath caught.
I knew that face. Not from personal memory, but from old photographs in the storage room at Midnight Estate. Photos my parents left behind.
That was my mother. Or someone who looked exactly like her.
Which meant Boss didn't just know about Celeste. Boss had been watching her. Cataloging her. Keeping her image like a trophy.
The door opened. Alexei this time, carrying a food tray. He set it on a small table, avoiding my eyes.
"Viktor says you should eat," he muttered. "Keep your strength up."
"Alexei." I moved closer, voice low. "That woman in the photo above the bed. Do you know who she is?"
He glanced at it, then quickly away. "I don't ask questions about Boss's collection."
"Collection?" Ice flooded my veins. "You mean there are more photos like this?"
"I mean I don't ask questions." Already backing toward the door. "Eat. Rest. Don't make trouble."
"Wait—is Boss here? In this building?"
He froze, hand on the doorknob. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because Viktor said Boss likes spirit. Which means Boss is paying attention. Watching." I took a calculated risk. "Is Boss watching right now?"
His eyes flicked to a corner of the ceiling—so quick I almost missed it. But I caught it. Saw the tiny camera lens embedded in the molding.
"Eat," he repeated, and fled.
I looked up at the camera, wondering who was on the other side. If they could see the fear I was trying to hide.
Then I sat and forced myself to eat. Chicken, rice, vegetables—bland but nutritious. Designed to keep a prisoner healthy.
Or a pregnant prisoner.
I finished half before my stomach rebelled. I needed to think. Plan. Figure out who Boss was and what they wanted.
The photographs seemed to watch as I tested the window (locked, reinforced glass), checked the door (solid, multiple locks), examined every corner.
Nothing. A beautiful cage designed to hold me without obvious cruelty.
I sat back on the bed, spinning through possibilities. Boss related to Viktor. Boss watching my mother. Boss wanting me alive and healthy. Boss with resources—kidnappers, safe houses, surveillance.
And Boss apparently had a "collection" of photographs featuring beautiful women.
Was I just another addition? Another pretty face to catalog and control?
The thought sickened me, but I examined it logically. If Boss collected women, what did Boss do with them? Were they all prisoners? Or had some cooperated?
I thought of the woman who looked like my mother. Had Celeste been involved with Boss's organization? Worked for them? Been controlled by them?
Or had she been running when she abandoned me?
Hours passed. Light shifted, suggesting sunset. No one came. The camera remained silent, unblinking.
I tried the bond again, pushing past the collar's suppression. Nothing this time—not even that faint warmth. Either they were too far, or the collar had adapted.
I was alone.
The thought should have terrified me. It did, in a distant way. But underneath was something harder. Something forged in ten years of survival.
I'd been alone before. Helpless before. Trapped before.
And I'd survived.
I would survive this too.
I lay back, staring at my mother's photograph. "I'm going to find out what happened to you," I whispered. "Find out who Boss is, what they wanted from you. And then I'm going to make them pay."
The camera couldn't pick up the whisper. But I hoped, somehow, Celeste could hear me.
I closed my eyes, conserving strength. Tomorrow would bring doctors, examinations, potentially answers about Sterling heirs.
But tonight, I'd rest. Plan. Remember I wasn't just Kara the debt slave, or Kara the Luna, or even Kara the potential mother.
I was Kara the survivor.
And survivors didn't give up.
---
I woke to the door opening. Viktor entered with another bag.
"Get dressed," he ordered, tossing it onto the bed. "Boss wants to see you."
My heart slammed against my ribs. This was it.
"Now?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.
"Now."
I grabbed the bag and retreated to the bathroom, hands shaking as I pulled out the contents. Another white dress, more formal. White heels. White jewelry—simple, elegant, expensive.
I changed quickly, mind racing. Boss wanted to see me. Finally, I'd get answers.
I studied my reflection. The white dress made me look ethereal, almost bridal. The collar ruined it, but maybe that was the point. A reminder that no matter how I was dressed, I was still a prisoner.
I stepped out. Viktor waited by the door, posture tense.
"Are you Boss?" I asked quietly.
His eyes met mine. "No."
"But you know Boss well?"
"Yes."
I took a breath. "And I'm meeting Boss now?"
"You'll meet her eventually." His voice was carefully neutral. "Today is just preliminary assessment."
Her.
The word hung between us, and I felt the world tilt.
Boss was a woman.
All this time, I'd assumed—like everyone apparently assumed—that Boss was male. Another powerful Alpha like Konstantin, another brutal crime lord in a world dominated by violent men.
But Boss was female.
Which changed everything.
"A woman did all this?" I couldn't keep the shock from my voice. "A woman ordered my kidnapping? Ordered—"
"Boss ordered that you be treated well," Viktor cut me off. "Kept safe, healthy, unharmed. Direct orders."
"Why?" I demanded. "What does she want from me?"
His expression was unreadable. "That's between you and Boss."
He gestured to the door. "Come. Don't make this harder."
I followed him out, mind reeling. A woman. Boss was a woman.
Who was she? What did she want? Why had she gone to such lengths?
As Viktor led me down a pristine hallway past more doors that probably led to more beautiful cages, I realized I was about to find out.