Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)(67)

It’s early, but now’s my only chance to make this happen.

I pull on a pair of black jeans and a black thermal shirt. A jacket or coat would be too bulky, so I don’t bother, even though I’ll be cold. The only other thing I need is my boots.

Once I’m dressed, I arrange my hair into a tight knot at the back of my head. Then I check the windows once more.

Gaiman has disappeared down the path that leads to the smaller cabins scattered down below. Some of the men have gone with him, which leaves only a handful of Solovev soldiers crowded around Jax. Their body language is relaxed, which means they’re probably just shooting the breeze before they need to leave.

Ancient pines are clustered along the left side of the road. Thick and tight enough to hide anything from view.

Including me.

I can pick my way between the trees and slip inside one of the jeeps while they’re being queued up for departure.

I have no idea if this will work, but I’m not willing to just lie down and be the obedient wife.

This is the Bratva. You have to take what you want.

And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Getting out of the house turns out to be surprisingly easy. The staff are congregated in the kitchen, so I skate past the room as silently as possible. I use the back door to get out and it takes only a short run into the trees before I’m hidden from view and hiding in plain sight.

The creeping walk through the alpine forest is far more nerve-wracking. Mostly because I assume every snapping branch and whistle on the wind is Leo at my back, coming to drag me back to my room and lock me there.

But no one comes. Nothing stirs or makes a noise. The snowfall muffles my footsteps and my breathing remains quiet.

I see the shape of the vehicles through the trees. Steam rises up from the tailpipes as they idle in place, lined in a column along the rough road.

I reach a vantage point behind a massive fir and sit to wait.

Still, no one comes.

“Now or never, Willow,” I mutter to myself.

I choose now.

Rushing out into the open, I sprint to the closest jeep and jump into the trunk. I tuck myself beneath a tarp and pray that no one accidentally crushes me to death with anything else they load in.

Soon, my labored breathing stills and the silence of the mountains takes over again. I wait, and wait, and wait for what feels like forever, until I hear the distant sound of voices and footsteps.

It grows louder. I can’t see, only listen, as the Solovev army tromps forward and clambers into the vehicle. I smell sweat and metal as the men buckle in. The jeep sags under their weight.

The engines purr to life within seconds of one another. Like a pack of wolves all howling at once. I feel a violent surge of relief as I start to wonder if maybe this just might work.

We pull out. The drive feels both rough and long. Half an hour in, I find myself cursing the driver, who seems intent on driving over every fucking rock and pothole he can find.

I didn’t anticipate being so hot, either. But the engine, the glow of bodies, and the thickness of the tarp all contribute to the nausea roiling in my stomach.

The one good thing is that it prevents me from worrying too much about what’s going to happen when we actually reach the meeting spot. I don’t have time or the presence of mind to stress or obsess. I just lie ensconced in darkness and try not to think about anything else.

When the engines finally come to a stop, I feel an intense burst of relief. We’re here. I made it. I actually managed to fly under Leo’s radar.

I wait for the men to pile out of the jeep. The second I know it’s empty, I crawl out from under the tarp and suck in air greedily.

I’m here.

I’m alive.

Everything else remains to be seen.





28





WILLOW





I’m spotted as soon as I step out of the jeep. A dozen men gawk at me like I’m a ghost, too dumbstruck to move or respond.

Leo hasn’t been dumbstruck a day in his life, though. When he sees me, he flies over, rage etched across every feature of his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He grabs my arm and tries to pull me away from the men.

I slip free of his grasp with a practiced move and spin around, taking in the surroundings.

They’ve parked the jeeps on the side of a wide dirt road. Just ahead are chain-link gates, thrown wide, and beyond that, rows of boxy gray buildings.

“Is this the meeting spot?” I ask. “Looks kind of bleak.”

“Jesus.” He sighs and pulls me away from the men and into a private corner. As soon as we’re far enough away, he rounds on me. “Are you kidding me with this shit, Willow?”

I stand my ground. “You refused to bring me. I had no choice.”

“You had the choice to listen to me. To stay at the cabin.”

“I’ve told you already: I’m done being a damsel in distress.”

“What you’re being is childish.”

I shrug. “I’m staying. There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“I can tie you up and lock you in one of the jeeps,” he argues.

“Great plan. Leave me alone, incapacitated, and defenseless so I can be kidnapped again.”

He narrows his eyes. “I’ll leave a few men to watch you.”