Chapter 13
Sophie
His words slice through me, as if they’re surprising. They shouldn’t be.
The evidence was clear for years now. Boss-man—Luka is right. Dad doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.
I fidget the black king piece, my hands filled with restlessness.
He is smart. Super smart. His brain fascinated me when I was a little girl.
I would absorb his every word, giving him my full attention, just to get a piece of his wits.
I would listen to him talk about chess for hours, memorizing the moves.
The king falls out of my hands, knocking down the queen. A gasp escapes me as my eyes fill with tears.
He sacrificed his queen, showing me he wasn’t smart after all.
Misery grips me like a python, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing until it gets hard to breathe.
I try to focus on inhaling and exhaling, but the anguish is too big.
My nails dig into my thighs, pressing into the skin until it hurts.
Only when the pain gets intense enough does my breathing settle, the snake unwrapping itself.
I take care of what I need to in the bathroom, and stepping out, I’m met with another guard sitting on my couch. I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know his name. Feeling too drained to communicate or start another chess game, I ignore him, making myself comfortable on the bed.
Once again, my sleep gets pulverized by nightmares.
I’m surprisingly rested as I rise from the bed. Stretching my arms above my head, I’m attacked by glimpses of last night. Begging, crying, the gun firing, slipping on blood. And then nothing. Blankness.
It wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare.
I shake my head, focusing on my surroundings.
Still here.
Luka is sleeping, his humongous frame overwhelming the couch a familiar sight. I rush to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. And to get away from boss-man, unsure if he’s still angry with me.
Luckily, as I get out, he’s nowhere to be found, Marko sitting on the same couch.
He nods to my breakfast, and I dig in.
At least I’m not hungry anymore.
It must be the years of training my brain to find positive things, because I’m not sure there’s a silver lining here. I’m fed and untortured, but I’m still fucking kidnapped, Alan is still missing, and the realistic chances of me getting out alive are slim.
I’ve seen all their faces. I know their names. It would be dumb of them to let me walk free. They’ll likely use me to torture Dad and dump my body afterwards.
The morbid thought sends shivers through me. Ironically, it’s also soothing. My mind is much more familiar with these thoughts than the shitty positive psychology ones I try to force onto myself.
In the evening, Luka returns. Or at least what I think is evening. He drops a bag with food next to the chessboard and slumps down onto the couch.
“Wh-what time is it?” I dare to ask. He’s obviously ignoring me, but the need to know is consuming. There’s something so disorienting being in a windowless room without a clock.
His jaw tics as he glances at me. “Seven.”
“Seven,” I repeat, barely audible. It’s when Alan and I take our walks every single day. And even though I dreaded those walks most days, I would give anything right now to secure a collar around his neck and take a walk in the dark. Where is he?
Tears prick behind my eyelids, but Luka doesn’t speak to me, rather clacking on his phone and handling phone calls strictly in the foreign language. I swallow the lump in my throat, unwilling to examine why his lack of attention seems to hurt me.
I focus on studying the chessboard best I can with a watery vision. I haven’t played in a long time, but I can still see pieces moving in my head. After three excruciating games against my biggest enemy—myself —I decide it’s time for bed.
Luka is still ignoring me as I start my nighttime routine.
Well, the simple, hostage-friendly nighttime routine.
I take a shower, ready to dress back into my dirty sweatshirt and sweatpants.
I know I have clean clothes in a bag that the guards brought me, but they’re way too tight and skimpy for my taste.
And even though no one touched me inappropriately since I was here, this is still a dungeon of a sex club, and these men are still criminals.
Turning the faucet off, I grab a towel to dry myself.
I move the shower curtain and step out of the tub, my eyes scanning the room immediately.
It takes me a second to realize what’s different.
Nothing stands out. My toothbrush is leaning off the lime-scale covered sink.
The door is still closed, but my clothes are no longer sitting on the lid of the toilet seat.
My eyes move frantically around the small room, as if the clothes decided to play hide and seek while I was in the tub. But they are nowhere to be found.
The only probable explanation is that Luka took it. The bastard was angry with me, so he took away the items that clearly brought me comfort. My breathing picks up, but instead of desperation opening a pit in my stomach, my insides fill with rage. He might be my captor, but I still have my dignity.
And I won’t let them take it away.
My hands dig through the bag of clothes he got me, finding a black tank top and a pair of leggings. They’re my size, but it’s not something I would ever wear in public, let alone in front of the people holding me jailed.
I stomp out of the bathroom, and slam the door behind me, my mouth already parting on the first swear words, but there’s no one there. The couch is empty, a dent in it the only evidence Luka was there.
Hope blooms in my chest. It should be evening by now.
People are probably upstairs. If I could just get there, I could blend in with the crowd and maybe even convince someone to help me get out of here.
Soon, they will find out Dad has no intention of sacrificing himself for me and I’ll be of no use to them.
They’ll have to either up the ante, or get rid of me, both things equally terrifying.
This is it. This is my chance.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. I wait for a few heartbeats to see if Luka will return, before stepping a foot in front of the other. And the other. And the other. All the way to the door.
I hold my breath, wrapping my hand around the doorknob, only to realize it’s unlocked.
It’s freaking unlocked. My heart makes a leap inside of my chest. Tears prickle my eyelids as I remember Alan waiting for me somewhere.
Maybe one of my neighbors took him in. Maybe they’re feeding him on the streets.
But I know he would wait for me. I just know it.
I open the door, finding a narrow, dark hallway and a tight staircase leading upstairs.
The deep bass music I sometimes hear grows louder.
Inhaling deeply, I will my legs to start walking.
I make it three stairs before all hope is sucked out of me.
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” A short, older man appears at the top of the staircase.
A gold chain adorns his wide neck, a white t-shirt wrapping too tightly around his torso.
He also sports a brown blazer and as he gets closer to me, I notice the strong whiff of cigarettes coming off him.
Luka walks behind him, his jaw clenched hard enough to break in two. His eyes are as dark as gunpowder, and seem as flammable, too. His brother, the one who held a gun to my head walks after, my breath catching in my throat.
I retreat back to the room. To my cage. My shoulders slump in defeat. The old man’s eyes are trained closely on my form, and I remember what I’m wearing. My skin prickles.
Finally, he pulls his gaze away from my frame long enough to snap at Luka. “This is what you mean when you say you have it under control?”
“Uncle Toma,” he bites out, barely moving his lips. “I do have it under control. I just don’t appreciate unannounced guests.”
So, this sleazy creep of a man is their uncle.
“Well, excuse me for caring enough about my brother to want to check on things myself.” His lips turn down in a disgusting show of fake sadness.
This man doesn’t give a shit about his brother. But he obviously gives a shit about me.
“Though I can certainly see why you wanted to keep this pretty little flower all to yourself.” The man presses a thumb to my chin and bile rises in my throat.
I drop my gaze down, noticing how Luka’s fists clench at his sides. “She’s my prisoner, not my plaything,” he says.
The man waves him off, removing his hand from my face. “Same thing. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” He bares his teeth with an unsettling smile. “A new business opportunity, considering the venture you started here.”
Luka’s eyes widen. He doesn’t like this man. One bit. They say the enemy of your enemy is your friend, but I’d rather be chained up and hungry again than try to befriend this newcomer.
Toma’s gaze trails the room until landing on the chessboard. “You play?” He smirks at me.
I move my head to the side, but Marko’s voice interrupts it.
“She does.” I realize for the first time that there are three more people in the room.
All of them guards, if I had to take a guess.
“She’s great at it, too.” Marko wears a proud smile on his face.
He’s a harmless buffoon, but he really threw me in the deep end with this one.
“Excellent. Let’s see what you got.” Toma rubs his palms together like a cartoon villain, making his way to a chair.
A guard I haven’t met before nudges me with his shoulder until I drop into a chair of my own.
Luka’s brother steps forward. “Shouldn’t we go talk business?”
“We’ll have plenty of time for that.” Toma’s eyes lock onto mine. “Let me play with our guest for a bit.” The way he says play sends chills down my spine.
He opens with a classical Italian opening. I just want this to end. He doesn’t seem like a guy who would appreciate losing in front of his men, and I have no intention of keeping his attention any longer than absolutely necessary.
I need to throw this game.
Still, Marko told him I’m a good player. Meaning I have to be smart about this.
I slide a pawn to D5, and the corner of his lips rises. He takes my pawn. I make three good moves, building my game, before letting him trap me. I pretend I don’t see his bishop threatening to check my king, or his knight free to do the same.
Still, it takes him eight more moves to win.
He shoots me a wide smile, his yellow teeth on full display, and I exhale a relieved breath, knowing it’s over.
“You could use more practice,” he says condescendingly.
“But this was fun.” Turning to Luka, he continues, “Now I can share my incredible business idea with you. One that blends the help of our international friends with your newfound love of sex clubs.” Just as he gets to the door, he turns around again.
“Oh, and I will send some of my men to take care of our little guest here. I don’t want her to wander around. She’s way too precious for that.”
A breath whooshes out of me as dread now digs a hole in my stomach. Everyone but Marko leaves, and I get to bed, tugging the covers up to my neck, trying to cover some of the exposed skin. It’s too late for that. The bad man already saw me. And who knows what will happen next.