บททั้งหมดของ Submit To Me: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

KaterinaMy mother clings to me in the back seat of the car. The small backpack she loaded with clothing is cradled in her lap, bumping me with every shift of the car.Yevgeniy rides up front in the passenger side while a man with a double chin and ham-sized shoulders drives. I hear Yevgeniy call him Osip, but the driver himself hasn't spoken a word to any of us. He barely looked at me when we got into the car, and now, half an hour later, that hasn't changed.What's going to happen? I rub my mother's back. She's terrified, unable to lift her eyes from the floor. I think back to how she froze up at the house.Yevgeniy ... he's the reason.Glaring at the back of his head, I replay the way everything went down. It didn't matter if Mom did call for help; he had us surrounded. He knew we couldn't escape. How did he find us? Where did we mess up? Josh and Fabiola have been extremely cautious. The burner phones, fake identities, no visitors other than the doctor—the safe house should have b

SashaI've been watching the outside of the house for half an hour. In that time, the sun has begun to set. The long shadows it creates have been the only movement. "Are they really in there?" I whisper to Sergei.He nods rapidly. His face is swollen from last night. I've given him some water, but nothing else. My kindness only goes so far with my enemies. It's funny, but once upon a time, Sergei and I worked together. I thought of him as a sarcastic, loud joker. But now, he's nothing more than a pathetic, sniveling mess.Mila inches closer to me, talking in my ear. "I haven't spotted anybody coming or going. If they're in there, I can't tell.""The blinds are shut," I note."They're keeping a low profile; they wouldn't risk being seen from the street," she says.I rub my chin anxiously. My calves are cramping from how long I've held my position. The worst pain, however, is my heart, which aches to see Katerina again. Knowing she could be just a few yards away is torture."You still t

KATERINAFurious at how powerless we are, I turn away, rushing through the door to the basement where Ruslan is. I shut the door quickly behind me, wanting to shield myself from the hell that my mother is about to suffer. Anger courses through me, and I wish desperately that I had something—anything—that I could use to hurt Yevgeniy."Katerina!" Ruslan shouts excitedly when he sees me. He's sitting on the floor in front of a TV as big as a picture window. In his small hands is a PS5 controller. "Are you here to play with me?"Settling on my knees next to him, I return his eager smile with the best one I can manage, even as my heart shatters. My insides are still twisting, my brain still focused on what that monster is about to do to my mother. Ruslan has no clue what is going on above us.And for his sake, I want to keep it that way."Sure," I say. "What kind of game is it?""It's a racing game! You can design your own cars, give them custom paint jobs, and even buy extra parts to mak

SASHATHE BULLET WOUND in my shoulder still burns days later. The cuts on my hands from shattered glass are barely healed. A normal man might have taken time to rest up and heal, but I don’t have the luxury of wasting a single second. There are more pressing matters at hand.Turning the wooden bat in my fist, I slap it into my opposite palm. Blood flicks from the bat, staining the front of my shirt. Mila stands behind me, watching with a bored expression on her face as I turn my attention back to the object of my fury.“Stop, God, please fucking stop!” Sergei roars.“Damn,” I mutter. “Maybe wearing white was a bad idea. Then again, your black clothing isn’t helping you much, now that I think about it.”Sergei’s shirt collar and shoulders are soaked with blood from his broken mouth. Every wheezing breath he takes or desperate cry he makes sends more red splattering onto the material. “Sasha Ivanovsky … stop this. I’m begging you.”“Not until you tell me where Yevgeniy took my wife.”“I

KATERINATHE BED IS STIFF, but it’s clean. I’m pretty sure Yevgeniy must have hired someone to give the house a quick once-over before we arrived since the silken sheets don’t match the grotesque exterior. He has enough money to uproot his life weekly. Paying a cleaner is chump change, I bet.I’m lying across the bed when my mother enters the room. “Mamochka!” I blurt, sitting up sharply. “Are you okay?”She waves a hand at me dismissively. Her arms circle her body as if she’s cold, but the room is overly warm. “Of course.”“You’ve been playing with Ruslan for over two hours,” I say pointedly.“Yes, and what of it? He’s just a child. He can’t hurt me, malyshka.”“I guess not,” I say cautiously, “not like his father.”She stiffens, then sits on the bed opposite mine. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”Standing, I move toward her, quickly wrapping her in a hug. She gasps slightly and I pull back. Her face is twisted in pain, and the sight of it makes my blood boil.“You can’t be alone w