Closing the first aid kit, I get up and walk away. “Don’t expect an apology from me. It will never happen.” I stop by the stairs and glare back at her. “Just do as I say, and you’ll get through this in one piece.”

“And if I don’t do as you say?” she asks, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Then you’ll end up dead.”

I watch as my words hit her, the fear pouring back into her eyes as she stares at me, and I instantly regret what I just said.

There’s no doubt on her face that she thinks I’ll actually kill her. Not for the first time, I get the feeling Ariana knows who I am, and it has me asking, “Did your father tell you about me?”

She shakes her head, pressing her lips tightly together.

“But you know who I am. How?”

Ariana shakes her head again, and when I give her a look of warning, her shoulders slump. “I overheard some of my dad’s calls. He mentioned you and a man named Alexei.”

“What did he say?” I demand.

“Just that you’re the best… assassins.”

My eyes lock with Ariana’s. “I’m not an assassin.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a custodian to an assassin.”

“Custodian?” she asks, confusion flashing over her features.

“A protector.”

A couple of seconds pass, and then she lets out an incredulous chuckle. “Right, then I’m the head of the Bratva.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Then we’re all fucked.”

Ariana scowls at me again. “Ugh.” She drops down on the couch and mutters, “I don’t know why I even bother talking to you.”

ARIANA

What a jerk.

As I scroll through Netflix, anger simmers in my chest like a volcano ready to explode.

Needing a good distraction, I decide to watch V Wars again because Ian Somerhalder always makes me forget about everything.

I press play on the first episode and curl up on the couch, but I can’t get into the show.

I’ve been freaking kidnapped.

The realization of the predicament I find myself in keeps hitting me over the head. I keep alternating between feeling intense fear and talking myself off the ledge.

Maybe Demitri is telling the truth, and he won’t kill me.

Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.

I wrap my arms tightly around my waist, glancing around the room.

I need to find a way to escape. Maybe if I act calm, Demitri will let down his guard.

I let out a sigh because he knew I was going to attack him with the fork before I even made a move.

What the hell am I going to do?

Things only worsen when Demitri comes back into the living room and sits down on the other couch.

My gaze keeps flicking between the TV screen and Demitri until it finally stops on the man that’s the sole reason for my unhappiness.

It’s weird seeing him do something as mundane as watching TV, and the longer I stare, the more aware I become of how attractive he is.