I stop pacing and lean against the kitchen counter. Thinking.

When has anything Ivan’s done in regards to me ever made sense? He’s fucking obsessed with me and sick.

He could have taken Lucifer’s daughter, he could have used her as a bargaining chip, but no, he took Abigail. Why?

Because he knows I’d do anything to get her back.

I can just sit here, waiting for the men to handle it. I trust Andrew, but I know Ivan. And knowing that Abigail is with him, unprotected…

Fuck. I need to contact him. I need a phone.

I don’t think Johnathan will just give me his though if I ask for it.

Spinning around, my eyes scan the kitchen, looking for something to use to persuade Johnathan to let me use his phone.

Booze? No, that would take too long.

A knife? No, too messy…

A rolling stick? Not heavy enough.

I pick up the cast iron skillet, weighing it in my hand, then I swipe the dishes off the counter.

They crash to the floor.

“Amy? Are you okay?” Johnathan calls out, and I hear his heavy footsteps as he comes running to the kitchen to check on me.

When he appears in the doorway, I take a deep breath then swing the skillet at his head. It connects with his temple and the pan thrums in my hand.

Johnathan just stares at me, his eyes wide and confused.

“The fuck?” he slurs.

I swing at his head again and connect. This time he sways on his feet, his eyes rolling up as he collapses.

I jump back to avoid being taken down with him.

Opening my hand, I allow the skillet fall to the floor then I squat down and check him for a pulse. I find it in his neck. Steady and strong.

Good, I didn’t accidentally kill him.

I check his pockets, pulling out his phone, keys, and wallet. Then I straighten and run out of the kitchen.

I run for the garage, figuring I should leave before Johnathan wakes up to stop me. I’ll take his car, call Ivan and try to sweet talk Ivan into giving me back Abigail. I know from experience if I can placate Ivan even a little bit he usually forgives me for anything I’ve done.

I’m halfway to the Expedition when I remember Ivan’s diamond necklace. Maybe if I wear it, I’ll be able to better convince him…

Spinning on my heel, I run back into the house and up the stairs. I find the necklace right where I left it, under Abigail’s pillow.

Running back downstairs, I’m panting heavy from rushing. Still, over the sound of my own heavy breathing, I can hear Johnathan groaning as he starts to come to in the kitchen.


I run into the garage and hit the button for the door. I only allow it to roll halfway up before I’m crawling under it.

I run to Expedition parked in the driveway, jump in and shift it into reverse.

Johnathan appears as the garage door slides up completely.

“Amy!” he bellows, and then clutches his head as if he’s in pain. “Fuck! Stop!”

I jam the button to lock the doors then hit the gas. I squeal out of the driveway, fishtailing and nearly taking out the mailbox before I hit the brakes.

Johnathan comes running out of the garage and I yank the shifter into drive. He chases after me, waving his arms in the air and cursing.

But I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Abigail needs me.

I drive like a madwoman. Ignoring stop signs and the speed limit.

I wait until I’m pulling out of the neighborhood before I dial Ivan. Punching his number into the phone, I hold my breath, and nearly jump out of my skin when the ringing comes through the speakers.

“Hello?” Ivan answers, sounding irritated.

“Ivan?” I say tentatively, unsure of his reaction.

“Myshka?” Ivan breathes in surprise. “Is that you?”

“Yes!” I choke out, relieved that he picked up. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t get in touch with him.

“Where are you?” he asks. “Who are you with?”

“I don’t know where I am,” I answer him honestly.

None of the streets look familiar to me. I’ve never been on this side of the city before. This is a newer subdivision that looks like it just popped up. Everything is new—the disturbed dirt, the paint on the streets, and the traffic signs. There’s even a little shopping center that matches the design of the houses.

“Who’s with you?”

“No one. I got away. Someone—”

“Ah, little one, you did well. Do you have a GPS?”

“Yes. I’m pretty sure the phone does. Ivan, someone took—”

“Good. Good,” Ivan purrs. “I’m going to give you an address. I want you to meet me at the address.”

“Okay,” I agree, a little frustrated he keeps cutting

me off.

I pull into the parking lot of the shopping center.

Ivan rattles off an address and I punch it into the phone. The GPS gives me a route and an estimated arrival of fifteen minutes.

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