Chapter 18 Elena
ELENA
Adrian starts to talk as I cry into his chest, but it's all too much. In the moment, my fight-or-flight system kicks in, and I push away from him, and flee to the bedroom before Adrian can say another word.
My legs carry me down the hallway, my vision blurred with tears, my chest heaving with breaths that won't come fast enough.
I slam the door behind me and lean against it, my head dropping forward as tears fall onto the ground.
My body trembles with the aftershock of everything I just released. The screaming, the hitting, the sobbing. It all poured out of me, and now I feel empty and ashamed.
I slide down the door until I'm sitting, and the tears won't stop. They just come like a stream, and I don't even try to wipe them away.
What did I just do?
I hit him. I screamed at him. I told him I hated him.
And he just let me.
The memory of his arms around me, his voice low, saying I failed you, twists something deep in my chest.
I don't know if I'm angry, devastated, or relieved, or all three at once.
I stretch out my fingers, my hands throbbing from hitting him, and my throat is raw from screaming.
But more than that, I'm exhausted.
Not just tired. Exhausted in a way that goes deeper than sleep.
Emotions drain you faster than anything else. They run you down, hollow you out, leave you motionless once you let them go, especially the ones you've kept pent up.
I push myself up from the floor and slowly walk to the bed and just collapse onto the mattress, curling onto my side.
I clutch a pillow to my chest and cry some more.
Time goes by, and I don't remember closing my eyes.
I don't remember the moment exhaustion pulls me under.
But one second I'm lying there, and the next, I'm fighting to stay awake.
I blink to try and stay up, and I lift my head sluggishly to shake it. When I rest it back down, it's cold.
My eyes shoot open, and I look around.
What the hell?
I'm laying on concrete. It's not smooth, but rough and ridged, and I shift, and the surface scrapes against my forearms.
The air smells rancid, and there's a hint of some kind of disinfectant trying to mask everything, but it's not working.
I sit up as my vision adjusts to the dim light coming through a narrow window high on the wall.
And then it clicks, and my heart drops.
No.
I know this room.
My head starts spinning, and I rub my forehead to try and make it stop. I look around and see that metal door, the flat one with no handle on the inside and that slot near the bottom where they slid food through.
I'm back in Moscow. Back in the room I was put in when I did something bad.
No, no, no. I didn't do anything.
I scramble to my feet and lunge for the door. My fists pound against it, the sound echoing through the empty space.
"Let me out!"
My voice cracks, and I pound harder against the unforgiving metal.
"Please! Let me out! I didn't do anything this time!" I yell.
My heart is racing, and I'm getting those shakes where my body thinks it's cold, but it's not.
The door unlocks and swings open.
I stumble backward, my breath catching in my throat.
Maxim stands in the doorway, his expression calm and cold.
"Elena."
His voice is smooth, and it makes my skin crawl.
"Did you really think you could leave me?"
I take another step back.
"No. You're dead. Adrian killed you."
Maxim smiles, and the sight of it sends ice through my veins.
"Did he?"
He steps into the room, closing the door behind him.
"Or did he bring you back to me?"
"What?" I ask, my voice showing my confusion.
Maxim moves closer.
"Adrian is the one who sold you, Elena. He's the reason you're here."
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I shake my head, my breath coming in short gasps.
"No. That's not true."
"Are you sure about that?" Maxim asks as he tilts his head, his smile widening.
"Why do you think it took him so long to find you? Eighteen months, Elena. Eighteen months while you rotted away here, drugged and obedient," he stops and rubs himself, "and my little whore."
"Stop."
"He didn't want you anymore, but I do."
"Stop it!"
I press my hands over my ears, but his voice comes through anyway.
"He got paid, and you became mine. That's the truth, Elena. You know it is. You've always known it."
"No!" I scream through tears. "He didn't. He wouldn't. He loves me!"
Maxim laughs, the sound low and cruel.
"Love? Like you're worthy of that. Little whores don't get loved, they get fucked. Now, come here."
He reaches for me, his hand gripping my wrist, and I try to pull away, but his grip is iron.
"You belong to me, Elena. You always will. On your knees."
"No!"
I thrash against him, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it's going to explode.
"Let me go! Let me go!"
His face looms closer, his breath hot against my skin.
"You're never leaving, Elena. Never."
I wake up screaming, hitting the air as I bolt upright.
"Adrian!"
The name rips out of me, desperate and terrified, and I can't stop shaking.
I'm back in the room, but the nightmare clings to me, its claws sunk deep into my mind, and I can still feel Maxim's hand on my wrist, still hear his voice in my ears.
He sold you.
The door slams open as Adrian bursts into the room, his gun drawn, his eyes wild and feral.
"What is it? Are you okay?" he says, scanning the room, his body coiled, ready to kill, and then his gaze lands on me.
I scramble backward, my back hitting the headboard.
The gun. The look in his eyes. The way he's standing there, ready to tear someone apart. It's too much.
He's going to hurt me.
The thought flashes through my mind, irrational and panicked.
"Leni."
His voice is soft, but he doesn't move.
I can't answer. I can't speak. My throat is locked, and all I can do is stare at him, my chest heaving, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
He stops dead in his tracks. His eyes drop to the gun in his hand, then back to me.
And then I see it, the shift. His body goes still, his shoulders dropping slightly, and he lowers the gun slowly.
He tucks it behind his back, and then he raises his hands.
Palms open. Empty.
"You're safe, okay."
His voice is low, steady, and he takes a step backward.
"I think you were having a nightmare."
I don't move. I don't breathe.
He takes another step back, his hands still up.
"I'm backing up, okay? I'm giving you space."
My vision clears, the fog of the nightmare lifting just enough for me to see him.
He's not coming closer. He's not reaching for me.
He's waiting for my permission.
Maxim never waited. He never backed away. He never gave me space or asked what I wanted.
But Adrian is.
He's standing there, his hands up, his body tense, watching me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
And I know, I know, that he would never be the reason all this happened.
The nightmare, my dark thoughts, they lied.
My breathing slows, and I look at him and speak.
"I'm sorry."
Adrian shakes his head, his jaw tightening.
"Don't. You have nothing to apologize for."
He takes another step toward the door, his movements slow and deliberate.
"I'll leave you to rest."
He reaches for the door handle.
"Don't."
The word slips out before I can stop it, fragile and small.
He freezes, his hand hovering over the handle.
I swallow hard, my throat dry, and force myself to speak.
He turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine.
"I don't want to yell, and last time you told me to stay, I don't know if it helped."
My voice cracks, and I press my lips together, trying to steady myself.
"You're right. I'm confused. I don't know what I want, but that's because I haven't given you a chance to speak. We haven't really…" I stop and sigh. "I want to talk."
For a long moment, he doesn't move.
And then he nods.
"Are you really ready for that?"
I nod.
Even if I'm not, I clearly can't decide what the hell to do or what's going on if I don't know the truth. His truth.
He steps away from the door, his hands still at his sides, and lowers himself into the chair near the window.
He sits and then looks at me.
"All I want to do is talk to you, Leni. So please, what do you want to know so I can get the love of my life back?"