CHAPTER 3

SLOANE. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

Pain. 

Everything hurts, my eyelids flutter open and I try focusing my blurry vision, trying to look for where the sound was coming from, a high pitch ringing in my ears made me wince and I felt my ass on the hard surface. 

The way my spine ached made me realize I was sitting on a chair, my hands were tied behind the chair and I groaned as the bright light reflected in my eyes. 

Then I saw it. The bucket under the sink, there was a foul smell emitting from the sink, the ceiling was gray and dark with a LED light in the center, the rest corners of the place were dark and I saw some crates at the other side of the room. 

Have I been kidnapped? 

Is this karma for what I did today? 

So the truck was meant to hit me. 

"Is this some kind of joke?" I asked aloud, I mean who in their right senses would try to kidnap me? 

I'm Sloane Carlisle, everyone in the streets knows about me. 

Unless it's a newbie. 

Or the pizza guy. 

I need to get out of here as soon as possible before whoever it is returns. I'm badly injured and bleeding. That doesn't mean  I can't fight but I would be fighting with a disadvantage. 

The binds are right but if I dislocate my wrist and bend it then I will be able to get one hand out, I quickly got to work twisting my wrist and waiting to hear the crack. 

Only for me to hear a loud creak, the sound of footsteps approaching. 

Shit! 

"Come on, it's not that hard to break" I grumbled twisting then I used my other hand and started bending it. 

"I wouldn't do that," A gruff voice said and my gaze snapped to the bulky figure of a man, roughly around 6 '3 feet tall with wide broad shoulders and huge biceps making him look like a wannabe Hulk. 

Just one sharp snap of his neck would do the trick although I would get hurt before achieving that in my current situation. 

"Then if I ask nicely will you help me cut the ropes, it's uncomfortable for a lady" I batted my eyelashes and he scoffed. 

"They were right, you are insane" He grumbled and moved to the other side of the room where the crates were kept.

What did he mean by that? 

"Come on, hitting me with a truck and tying me down against my will is considered a crime, I just want to go home" I whined and he ignored me taking something from the crate. 

"I have money, I can afford my own ransom if you've not gone through my purse yet. If you haven't then there is a black card there you can have it and use it to your heart's content. I understand your pain buddy, if you want to talk about it before letting me go then I'm all ears..." I trailed off as I saw the machete in his hand. 

My eyes widened but I schooled my expression to a neutral mask, "Are you a butcher? Don't tell me you eat human flesh. I have an itchy rash on my skin, man, it's not healthy" I joked but he didn't even look my way, he started sharpening the machete and I watched wondering if I could somehow take him with the chair. 

That might not work but I will die trying. 

"Where am I?" I asked dropping the damsel in distress act. 

"In a basement" He replied and I sighed. 

"Do you work for someone?" I questioned again. 

"Yes, you'll meet him soon, don't bother to ask," He replied. 

"Aren't you a clever one? Tell me how you know who I am and why the fuck am I in a basement?" I demanded, he take off the shirt he was wearing revealing a tank top with inked skin. 

My eyes caught the Jaguar tattoo on his back as he turned to pick up his machete. 

Jaguar tattoo means only one thing, the Bratva has different gangs and they have symbols to differentiate themselves, if it were a Volk then it would be a Black Mamba but if it's a Jaguar that means it's...

How? 

Did he know I was coming? 

There was another loud creak indicating that someone was coming, I swallowed a hard lump in my throat as I watched like an idiot as three men walked in. 

Now I see it, they all have those Russian features, including the machete guy. 

Then before I knew it they surrounded me, I felt a tug on my hands and I waited for them to cut me loose before I struck. 

But that didn't happen as one of the jerks pressed something on my side, a zap shot of electricity through my body vibrating me and I gritted my teeth as he stopped. 

The taser had run its course as I almost collapsed, they dragged me up each at my side holding my arms as they pulled me away while the jerk with the taser worked behind us. 

The machete guy didn't even spare us a glance as we left. 

After we left the basement they dragged me towards a staircase and I winced, feeling pain in my shoulder. My head was spinning. 

How do I get out of this state? 

"The bitch is bleeding" The one behind us raised an alarm and the other grunted in reply implying that they already knew. 

They didn't stop manhandling me, if anything my legs were dragging on the ground as we got to a hallway, they knocked on the first door on the right and I sucked in a deep breath as a deep voice said something in Russian on the other side of the door. 

The one with the taser opened the door while they dragged me into what looked like a study and threw me on the red rug, they said something in Russian and I lifted my gaze to meet the most piercing turquoise blue orbs at the other side of the table.

Chase fucking Sokolov. 

We've never met before despite our enmity and I have always wished the day we do will be the day I kill him, but here I am weak and vulnerable in front of the man. I want nothing but to put a bullet in his brain, as much as I hate to admit he's good-looking. 

Did I say good looking? No, he's more than that, from the way the lights reflected on his eyes to his hollow cheekbones and dark brows, his close-set eyes with long eyelashes and straight nose, his jawline must be chiseled by God himself because that was the only way to explain how it's well chiseled and sharp. 

Underneath the good looks was just pure evil so I wasn't swayed. 

He leaned his head on one fist as he watched me with a bored expression on his face, and I scowled in anger. 

"I thought we were supposed to wait until after the wedding before you come running to me" He voiced out his Russian accent was surprisingly light, but his voice was something else. Rough, velvety, and baritone. 

There was something dark about it, something that sent chills down my spine. 

"Now tell me why you blew up my hotel before I forget about my deal with your father and crack your skull open"