Chapter 15 - The Ultimate Betrayal
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“Marcus,” I gasped, struggling against the heavy plastic bindings cutting into my wrists. “What are you doing here? Did they take you too?”
Marcus couldn't meet my eyes. He stared at his scuffed shoes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“No, Em,” Marcus muttered, his voice trembling. “They didn't take me. I brought them to you.”
The horrific truth hit me like a physical blow to the chest. “You sold me out?”
“I didn't have a choice!” Marcus suddenly yelled, his fear morphing into pathetic, defensive anger. “I owed Volkov thirty grand! They were going to break my legs, Emma! They said if I just told them your routines, if I just tracked your phone using our old shared cloud account, they would clear my debt!”
I stared at the man I had once promised to spend my life with. The sheer, cowardly magnitude of his betrayal was almost impossible to process.
“You tracked my phone to the botanical gardens,” I realized, feeling sick to my stomach. “You handed me to the Russian mafia to save your own miserable life.”
“You’re Dante Caruso’s girl now!” Marcus spat, pointing a shaking finger at the diamond ring still resting on my finger. “He’s a billionaire! He’ll pay whatever ransom Volkov asks for! You’ll be fine, Emma! It’s just business!”
Before I could scream at him, the heavy metal door at the top of the basement stairs groaned open.
Victor Volkov walked slowly down the concrete steps, flanked by three heavily armed guards. He smiled when he saw me tied to the chair.
“Excellent work, Marcus,” Volkov boomed, his heavy accent echoing in the damp room. “Your debt is forgiven.”
“Thank you, Mr. Volkov,” Marcus stammered, backing toward the stairs. “I’ll just be going now.”
“Not quite yet,” Volkov said smoothly, signaling to one of his guards. The guard grabbed Marcus by the collar, throwing him violently against the concrete wall.
“What are you doing? We had a deal!” Marcus shrieked.
“We did,” Volkov chuckled darkly. “But Dante Caruso is a very angry man right now. When he tracks this location, I want him to find the rat who sold out his queen. It will distract him long enough for me to put a bullet in his head.”
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Volkov turned his attention back to me. He reached out, roughly grabbing my left hand, and stared at the diamond ring.
“Let us see if the great Dante Caruso is willing to burn his empire to the ground for a waitress,” Volkov sneered.
