They’re both dressed in black. He is broad and muscled; she is lean and lithe. Of all the thoughts I should be having right now, the only one I can focus on is: They make a beautiful couple. Looking at them together feels like staring into the sun.
My eyes burn. All I want to do is squeeze them closed. I try to focus my gaze on just Leo instead.
“What the hell is this?” I demand. Stupid question, but I can’t help asking.
“What do you think?” he asks. “I warned you about crossing me.”
“Sue me for not accepting my own imprisonment.”
“It’s for your own good.”
I groan. “I’m getting really sick of that phrase. That’s all you’ve been saying since you first ruined my life.”
“You mean the life where you were getting beaten up by your deadbeat ex?” he asks without missing a beat.
My eyes flit to Brit’s no matter how hard I try to stop myself from looking at her. I feel an acidic burning in my chest. It takes me a moment to realize what it is.
Hatred.
I hate that she’s so beautiful.
I hate that she stands next to Leo like she belongs by his side.
I hate that they clearly trust each other—“implicitly,” as he said.
More than anything, I hate the way he talks about me in front of her.
“It was a better life than this,” I say, doubling down. “At least I wasn’t a prisoner in my own home.”
“You were a prisoner in someone else’s home,” Brit scoffs. “I’d say that’s worse.”
“Seriously?” I ask, gaping at her. “Who asked you for your opinion, you psychotic bitch?”
“Hmm, I think she might still be holding onto a little unresolved anger,” she says in an aside to Leo, punctuating it with a sardonic giggle.
“Untie me right now, and I’ll resolve it,” I growl.
Brit’s eyes flare. She smiles at Leo. “Well, I’ll be damned: the kitten grew claws.”
“Fuck you!”
“I like the new look,” she remarks as though we’re old girlfriends catching up. “Really, it suits you. Very femme fatale without being too obvious. Were you trying to copy me?”
I glare at Leo. “What the hell is she even doing here? Shouldn’t she be sucking Belov’s cock somewhere?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he throws Brit a look. I have no clue what it means, but she does. Because they’ve known each other for years. Because they care about each other.
And here I am, tied to a chair in some godforsaken backwater mountain shithole, forced to look up at both of them.
“Temper, temper,” she chides as she sits down on the bed, crossing her legs with flare. We’re at eye level now, but it still feels like she’s looking down on me.
I revert back to ignoring her. “Let me go,” I tell Leo.
“I don’t see why I should,” he says. “I warned you. You ran anyway.”
“Because you gave me no choice!”
He moves forward quickly and puts his hands on the arms of the chair. “I gave you the best choice of them all,” he snarls. “And somehow, you still think you’re safer with them.”
“Not them,” I snap. “Anya.”
“She saved you from Belov, so now you worship the ground she walks on. Is that it? She can do no wrong now?” He rolls his eyes. “Would be nice if you’d consider giving me that kind of trust.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that in the warehouse,” I shout. “Maybe if you’d tried to save me, I’d trust you, too.”
He narrows his eyes. “Would you have preferred to have your head blown off? You had a bomb strapped to your chest. One wrong move on my part and you would have been nothing but a bloodstain on the concrete.”
“I’m starting to feel like that would have been preferable.”
“Oh, stop being so fucking dramatic,” Brit hisses, inserting herself into the conversation.
She pushes herself off the bed and leans in, resting her elbows on her knees. Her eyes are bright and filled with a resentment I don’t understand.
“You have air in your lungs, a husband who can protect you, and a child,” she hisses. “So why are you complaining?”
I stare at her. “You do remember that you’re the woman who woke me up with a knife against my throat, right?”
She shrugs, but doesn’t bother denying it. “I was following orders.”
“Whose?”