Katerina

Whirling around, I throw the curtain aside. I'm moving with purpose, but internally, I'm frantically making plans. Don't look back, don't scream, just get out and go to your car. From there I can call the police ... warn my mother to go somewhere safe until this is all handled. Sasha is dangerous; I knew it from the start.

And he's right about one thing. I was stupid for coming here.

The hair on the back of my neck rises as I walk. Something's not right. The only sound in the lounge is the music piping from the speakers. I look around and suddenly realize that it's empty. Where is everybody? There were at least people—customers drinking and waitresses walking about—when I walked inside. It can't have been more than a few minutes. And I know Chucky's Lounge doesn't close this early.

"You didn't know, did you?"

Spinning, I back up at the sight of Sasha looming over me. His hands are folded behind his jacket, while that same handsome, predatory grin flits across his face.

"Know what?" I demand.

He turns to the right, gesturing grandly at the ceiling, then at the curved bar. "This is my establishment. I own it, Katerina. Just like I'll own yours."

The revelation is a gut-check. This city has bred corruption longer than I've been alive. But to learn that a place I've used as a sanctuary to let my guard down, to let loose with friends, is owned by this wretched man ... It's too much. What else does he control? How far do his hands reach?

And when will he stop?

The last wall holding my fear at bay crumbles. Inching my heel backward, I take a second step, then bolt toward the exit. Adrenaline leaves my tongue tasting like battery acid. It makes me faster than normal too, and I burst through the exit with my calves straining. I don't see the wall of men until it's too late.

Screaming in shock, I stumble into the chest of the man right in front of me. His hands wrap around my upper arms, digging in, holding me still.

"Let go of me!" I shriek, wrenching from side to side. He laughs, a few of his companions joining in. All of them are big, though none would rival Sasha. Twisting violently to escape, I throw my elbows, searching for something to hit.

"Look at her fight," one of them chuckles.

"A wild one," another agrees.

The man gripping me gives me a hard shake. I lose my balance, and he takes the opportunity to yank me against his rough peacoat, forcing my breasts into his body. He lets loose a disgusting groan, indicating he's enjoying the contact. Horrified, I stare up at his face. His head is shaved. I notice, in my hyper-awareness brought on by fear, that there's a small raised scar on his left temple.

"Calm down, sweetheart." His breath smells like rank pickles. "You're not going anywhere. When Sasha Ivanovsky wants something, he gets it. Understand?"

Hearing Sasha's name lights another flash of defiance in me. With renewed strength, I drive my boot heel sharply into the man's ankle. He shouts, jumping as he releases me.

"You bitch!" he roars.

His companions cackle at the display. "She got you good, Kostya!"

He swipes to grab hold of me again. Dodging aside, I sprint blindly away from the group. Where do I go? How do I get away? I'm spinning, tangled in a tornado of mocking faces who all want to harm me. I run to my right, but I'm blocked. To the left is another row of hands snatching for my body. The men have created a funnel that forces me back toward the lounge. Unable to go elsewhere, I dart at the front doors.

This time, I hit the biggest blockade of all.

Sasha clutches my wrists in a single hand. With his other, he cups my cheeks, manipulating me to gaze up at him.

"What a shame," but now, he's no longer smiling, "that you won't be changing your opinion about me, Katerina."

His fingers reach into my pocket, dig around like a second home, and pull out my keys. He dangles them in front of my nose before tossing them to a man nearby. "Move her car. It's parked around the corner."

Sucking in breath after breath, I almost miss the crunch of tires pulling up on the curb. Sasha looks over my head. My gaze follows him, and a glossy black Cadillac Escalade pulls up.

"What's happening?" I ask shakily.

Ignoring me, he thrusts me toward the men. Two of them hold me by either arm, being extra careful this time not to let me attack them.

"Put her in the back seat," he commands them.

Panic seizes me when I realize what's about to happen.

"No! Let me go! Stop, please! Someone help me! Someone, help! HELP!" My voice echoes around the empty streets. Sasha isn't fazed. He watches calmly as I'm pushed into the vehicle.

I know there are people in the area. It's impossible for nobody to hear my desperate pleas. I can see them peeking through window cracks to witness what's happening to me, but not a single one intervenes. Nobody is willing to stick out their neck and get involved.

I yell again, shrieking until my throat is raw, but it's pointless.

No one is coming to save me.