16. The Predator
Cole reappears after about an hour,his gaze sweeping over us with hungry intensity. My skin prickles under his scrutiny. “You clean up nicely,” he says, his voice a low purr.
He steps towards me and grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His cold and calculating eyes hold me captive.
“Pity I can’t stick around to enjoy you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek.
“Katerina, spasiba,” Cole says, his voice smooth as silk, his gaze lingering on Michelle and me with a disturbing fire. “They look— exquisite.”
Disgust and rage surge through me. I spit at him, the saliva landing on his sharp cheekbone.
”I like that. You”re spicier than I thought,” he says, a flicker of amusement dancing in his cold eyes as he wipes the spit from his cheek.
He walks over to me and presses himself against me, the hard line of his body mocking my trembling. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to—enjoy you.”
He releases me, and I slide down the wall. My legs are weak, and my body is shaking with disgust. His gaze lingers on me, and a hot fire burns in his eyes before he finally turns away.
“Take them,” he commands, and his men materialize at his side.
They usher us out of the room and down a seemingly endless corridor. My body is stiff, my steps mechanical, following the rhythm of their footsteps. Michelle trails behind me like a broken doll.
I’m supposed to be the strong one, the one who holds it together. But I feel the tears welling, a tidal wave threatening to break through my walls of fuck-you’s and defiant spitting. I blink the tears back, forcing myself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
They push us into the hallway, where we pass a group of men, their eyes raking over us, undressing us with hungry gazes. The sound of their laughter, coarse and cruel, grates on my nerves. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and stale beer, a masculine tang that makes me gag.
I want to scream, to run, to disappear, but they drag me along.
“All of this – the prison bedroom, this building, doing whatever you do here. This show is all for your brother’s revenge?” I spit, the words a venomous dart.
“Partly,” he says and gazes at me indifferently.
“Are you even sure Alexander’s father killed him?”
“Damn sure,” he says, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “That stupid drug addict met my brother for a deal. Blew his head off.”
“So your brother was a drug dealer?”
“We all need to make a living, don’t we?” he laughs, a cold sound that makes my skin crawl.
“And now Alexander gets punished for it?”
“Well, his deadbeat dad isn’t alive anymore, is he?” Cole says, his eyes hardening. “And the best way to make a Bourne man suffer is to make his women suffer. Taking away something he loves.”
A muscle in my jaw unclenches. Maybe— just maybe Alexander is still alive.
The men surrounding us laugh, their amusement a grotesque chorus. Two more of Cole’s men appear at my side. “Come on, girls,” one of them growls. “It’s time for a change of scenery.”
They shove us into a freight elevator. The metal walls are cold against my back and smell like oil and grease. We descend, the elevator shuddering with each floor, my stomach churning with the movement.
The doors finally slide open, and we enter a vast space. The air smells of salt water, diesel fuel, and rotting fish. The sound of machinery and clanging metal reverberates through the ample space. Crates are stacked high, their wooden surfaces bearing faded labels from distant ports. Forklifts rumble back and forth, their headlights cutting through the gloom. It looks like an indoor harbor, a hidden world of illicit trade.
What the hell is this place?I shudder.
“In here,” one of the men says, shoving us toward a large metal shipping container. Its doors open, revealing a dark interior. Thick ropes tie the door together. It looks strange, off somehow.
My eyes catch a glint of silver on the floor, a discarded razor blade gleaming in the harsh light of the overhead spotlights. I exchange a look with Michelle, a silent plea in my eyes. Her gaze flickers to the blade, then back to me, a knowing nod.
She’s got it.
As the men move to herd us toward the large metal container, Michelle explodes, a human bomb of fury.
“Let us go!” she screams, her voice a raw, desperate howl. She throws herself against one of the men, her body a whirlwind of rebellion. As she struggles, I quickly slip the blade into my pocket, its cold edge sharp against my bare skin.
“Enough!” Cole shouts, his voice sharp and commanding. “Grab her.” The men move quickly, overwhelming Michelle. They hold her from all sides, their grip tight, their movements efficient. Someone shoves us toward the large metal container, but I can’t figure out who.
I step inside, my eyes struggling to adjust to the weak light. The air is thick and stale, and it smells faintly of something metallic. I can hear whispers and voices in languages I don’t understand.
I see figures huddled together, their faces pale and drawn. Their wide and terrified eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment before darting away.
My gaze scans the space. The container feels unnaturally cramped, and I can barely grasp the details. A few shadows, a jumble of blankets, a few backpacks thrown carelessly on the floor. My mind tries to make sense of it. They’re huddled together, but why? What’s happening?
Then, my eyes land on the girl in the corner. Her face is a mask of terror. Then I notice a fresh tattoo on her arm, a red mark shaped like a mini serpent. My breath catches. That tattoo. It’s the same symbol I saw on one of Cole’s men in the “red room.” He marked her, branded her.
Suddenly, it clicks. The whispered language, the terrified expressions, the cage-like container. They’re trapped, captured, imprisoned.
My gaze shifts to Cole, standing beside the shipping container, watching us with a chilling detachment. A smug satisfaction plays on his lips.
“Let them out,” I scream. “Let all of us out!”
Cole steps closer to me, his face inches from mine. “Sshhh, Ava, you’re scaring my girls.”
“You animal!”
“I’m so glad I got to sample you at the office,” he grunts. “Your pussy is sweet enough to enjoy in Moscow’s lower districts.”
“Cole, don’t do this,” I plead, my voice cracking.
“Oh, but I already have,” he laughs, shoving Michelle and me inside, slamming the door shut, plunging us into darkness.
“You’re special, Ava. I would have loved to have kept you for myself. But it’s too dangerous. You’ll make me good money in Eastern Europe. I’m sure you’ll be passed around only to the kings of the mafia there.”
“Fuck you!” I scream, hammering on the door.
“I wish I had time for that,” he says, his voice muffled by the metal separating us. “I’d tear you apart. Unfortunately, some other lucky bastard gets to—use you.”
The metal latch clanks shut, sealing our fate, and the ropes are tied to hold us in.
I pound on the metal door, the sound flying back at me, a hollow, hopeless sound. My knuckles throb, a dull ache against the metal, but I keep going, my screams swallowed by the walls of this metal cage.
No one will come for you, Ava.
I look at Michelle, slumped against the container wall, her face pale and still. My nails dig into the worn metal, searching for a way out. There is none.
I look around at the terrified faces of the other girls, their eyes wide and lost, their bodies trembling.
We are trapped, bound for a fate worse than death.