Never in my life did I think I’d be doing something like this.

My steps are silent as I move to the bedroom, and placing my hand on the door, I push it open. It creaks, and I pause to listen for any movement. When there’s none, I slip inside the bedroom, and my eyes instantly find Ariana where she’s lying on her stomach, her arms and legs sprawled over the mattress. Her breaths are soft, and I move fast. Placing a knee next to her hip, I straddle her lower back in a second. My left hand slaps over her mouth as she jerks awake, and wrapping my right arm around her neck, I use just enough force to cut off her air supply.

Ariana’s body bucks against my hold, and she lets out muffled screams. She grabs hold of my right arm, her nails biting into the sleeve of my shirt.

The girl has a healthy set of lungs on her, and it takes longer than I’d like before she finally loses consciousness.

I keep my hold on her for ten seconds longer to make sure she’s not faking it and then let go of her. Knowing I only have a minute at the most, I rush to the wall and switch on the light, and then I go to her closet to look for anything I can use to restrain her.

I grab a scarf from the closet and gag Ariana before using a belt to tie her ankles and another for her wrists. She’s only wearing a t-shirt and leggings, but I don’t have time to dress her in something warmer.

Picking her up off the bed, I carry her to the living room and set her down on the couch. I move the coffee table to the side and then roll her up in the rug.

Hoisting the rug over my shoulder, I head out of the apartment, and shutting the door behind me, I rush to the stairway. For the first time in a long time, I actually break out a sweat from a job as I carry Ariana down the stairs. I only have seconds left before she’ll regain consciousness.

Luckily it’s quiet, leaving the apartment building, and I don’t have to worry about any witnesses. When I get to the unmarked car and open the trunk, I feel movement coming from Ariana.

Fuck, that’s cutting it close.

Setting the rug down on the road, I open it just as Ariana lets out a groan. Her lashes begin to flutter as I pick her up and place her in the trunk, and then her eyes lock on me for a moment before I slam the trunk shut.

Grabbing the rug, I shove it onto the back seat. Ariana’s muffled cries and feet kicking at the car's interior metal are audible in the silent night, and I hurry to slide behind the steering wheel.

I shoot Alexei a quick text that I have the girl, then starting the engine, I steer the car toward the airfield where our private jet is waiting.