Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners #3)(10)

My head starts to shake, my hair tossing wildly over my shoulders. “I wasn’t there… to spy on you. I was at Aqua to get dinner… for Mr. Mazur. You saw the food… it splattered all over the sidewalk.” My fear tightens my voice.

Again, Gabriel stares at me until shallow breaths rush over my lips with terror.

He doesn’t believe me.

“I swear,” I exclaim, “I was only there to get an order of seafood for Mr. Mazur.”

I even got whipped. The proof is on my back.

Something stops me from showing the marks on my skin to this man.

He wouldn’t care.

The predatory look in his eyes and the dangerous aura around him tell me as much.

As soon as this man is sure there’s no information to gain from me, he’ll kill me.

My silence might be all that can keep me alive. Not that I have any information to share.

I just need to buy myself time until I’m stronger.

Slowly, Gabriel shakes his head, and as if he can read my thoughts, he warns, “Don’t try to lie to me. I know many creative ways to make someone talk.”

Torture.

God.

Again, pins and needles spread over me, reminding me I’m still shaking like a leaf in a hurricane-force wind.

My eyes flick to the shackle around my ankle.

I’ve survived so much, but how will I escape this nightmare?

Slowly, my gaze lifts to meet Gabriel’s, then he asks, “What’s your name?”

I swallow hard on my fear before answering, “Lara… Lara Nowak.”

“How long have you worked for Mazur?”

“Since I was twelve.”

His head tilts slightly, and I’m not sure if he believes me because I can’t get a read on him. All I can say for sure is he’s dangerous, and I’m in a world of trouble.

With Tymon, I knew what to expect. I grew used to the punishments.

But with Gabriel, I have no idea what he’s capable of doing. Beatings I can handle. Wounds and broken bones heal.

What if…

Oh, God.

My cheeks go numb, a lump forming in my throat.

I’m a virgin. Tymon never allowed relationships between staff, not that it mattered because I’m too plain looking. It was my one saving grace. No one showed any interest in me.

Instinctively I scoot as far back on the bed as I can go. “Please don’t hurt me,” the feeble plea falls over my lips. “I’m just a maid.”

Still, Gabriel only stares at me, putting the fear of God in me.

“Where would Mazur go to hide?”

A wave of dizziness hits, making dots dance before my vision. I’m not used to all the emotions spiraling through me.

With Tymon, everything was a routine. One I grew accustomed to since birth.

Being in the hands of the enemy, not able to anticipate his next move, is nerve-wracking as hell.

“He has homes all over the world.” I swallow hard, wishing I could have some water. “I have no idea which one he’d run to,” I admit, still unsure whether remaining silent would be the best option.

Gabriel’s eyebrow lifts. “Where are these houses? Give me addresses.”

The fact that he thinks a mere maid would know the actual addresses almost makes a cynical burst of laughter leave me. “I’m just a maid,” I tell him again. “I didn’t have access to that kind of information.”

Again he’s eyes narrow on me. “Yet, you know he has many properties? You’re contradicting yourself.”

Crap.

Gabriel stands up, the movement sending a fresh wave of debilitating fear through me. Unable to stop myself, my chin starts to tremble, tears threatening to fall.

Don’t cry.

Lifting a hand to his chin, he swipes the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, his gaze still resting intensely on me. “You have three days to decide whether you’ll tell me everything you know or face the consequences.”

What kind of consequences?

Gabriel inhales deeply as if he’s savoring the scent of my fear. “A word of advice.” He starts to walk out of the room. “I’d talk if I were you.”

The words sound ominous, causing my stomach to burn from all the fear and tension.

The bedroom door is drawn shut behind him, then I’m left alone.

What am I going to do?

How in God’s name am I going to get out of this alive?





Chapter 7


Lara



I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours panicking and trying to free myself from the shackle and drifting fitfully in and out of sleep.

The only human interaction I’ve had was when the guard brought me food and gave me toilet breaks, and the doctor came to check on my wounds.

I’m exhausted, in pain, and scared out of my mind.

When the bedroom door opens, I quickly sit up, ignoring the ache in my stomach. Dr. Bayram comes in, followed by a woman who seems to be in her early fifties.

Yesterday I begged the doctor to help me escape, but he just checked my wounds, stuck fresh bandages on, then left without a word.

Maybe the woman will help me?

I watch as she sets a stack of clothes down on the chair. When she comes to stand next to the doctor, I try to make eye contact, but she won’t look at me.