Chapter 39 Katerina
KATERINA
Pain. That's the first thing I register. A terrible, relentless pounding in my head, like someone is taking a sledgehammer to my skull from the inside out. My face throbs on one side, tender and swollen.
I must have been hit while they were taking me or when I was unconscious. Either way, I don't remember.
I attempt to move to sit up straight, but my limbs feel heavy. When I try to brush the hair from my face, I discover I can't separate my hands. They're bound together with something—zip ties or rope, maybe. The realization sends me into fuller consciousness as panic begins to seep in.
I blow upward, sending strands of hair floating away from my eyes.
My vision is blurry, images doubling and tripling before slowly merging back together.
As things come into focus, I make out dark wooden slats curving away from me.
I'm leaning against a massive barrel. The air around me smells of old grapes and stale beer.
I must be in some type of cellar.
I look down at myself and see my dress is torn, ripped clean off my right shoulder. My feet are bare, my expensive heels nowhere to be seen. Blood has dried in small streaks down my arm, but I can't tell if it's mine or someone else's from the chaos at the clubhouse tasting room.
Above me, chairs scrape against what must be a wooden floor. Muffled voices filter down—people talking, laughing. The casual sound of their conversation makes me even more scared. How can they sound so normal when they've kidnapped me?
I try to move my legs, wincing as pins and needles shoot through my calves. How long have I been sitting here, slumped against this barrel? Hours? A day?
Memories of the ambush flood back—the gunshot that hit Dimitri, the lights going out, the cloth over my face. Ares screaming my name as I was dragged away.
Ares. My heart twists painfully in my chest. My husband.
Our fight feels so stupid now.
Was Ares right? Was it a setup? The letter, I remember Ares and George going over it. I saw something in Ares's face just before chaos erupted. Surprise.
Shit, I wish I knew what the hell is going on.
Well, I'm here now, wherever here is, and my last real interaction with my husband was an argument. It wasn't me telling him how I really felt. Hell, if you take our fight away, I was ready to tell him that I loved him so much.
Something warm trickles down my cheek, and I realize I'm crying. I press my bound hands against the concrete floor and push myself into a more upright position, biting back a groan as my head swims with the movement.
Come on, Katerina, focus.
The cellar is lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Six large barrels line the wall I'm against. Across from me is a rack filled with beer, liquor, and wine bottles. There's a small narrow staircase, about four steps, in the corner leading to the only door I see.
I try again to pull my hands apart, but my bindings don't budge. Looking down, I see they've used plastic zip ties around my ankles. So that's what's probably pinning my wrists together.
I need to figure out how to get out of here.
A loud laugh above me startles me. I strain my ears, trying to make out any words that might tell me who these people are or what they want. The zip ties dig into my skin every time I shift position, leaving raw red marks I can feel but can't see.
As I listen, my mind keeps returning to Ares. The look on his face when the gunfire started. The way he called my name. I wonder if he's hurt. If Dimitri is alive. If anyone else died in that ambush.
I feel myself on the verge of a panic attack and I close my eyes, trying to focus through the throbbing in my head. I need to stay calm. To think.
There's one thing I know for sure, Ares will come for me. I know he will. The question is whether I'll still be alive when he gets here.
I rest my head against the barrel and time stretches by. Has it been thirty minutes? An hour? The laughter upstairs has grown louder, and it sounds like more people have arrived.
I wonder if they're drinking and celebrating my kidnapping.
I try again to loosen the zip ties, twisting my wrists until I feel blood trickle between my fingers. The pain is sharp, immediate, but my brain can't fully register it. Whatever they drugged me with is still in my body.
Suddenly, the door creaks open. A bright light flows into the room, momentarily blinding me. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust my vision as heavy footsteps descend the steps.
Two men enter. Both are tall, but that's where the similarities end. One is heavyset, his expensive suit stretched tight across his round belly. The other is thin enough that I can almost see the outline of his bones through his skin, with hungry eyes that fix on me immediately.
"Ah, there she is, in the flesh," the big one says, his voice deep and rumbling. He gestures toward me like I'm a prize on display.
I straighten my back against the barrel, not sure who they are or what's happening.
"Mrs. Kastaris," the thin one says, his voice surprisingly high and nasal. "You're even prettier than the pictures showed."
The heavyset man steps forward and crouches down in front of me, his face close enough that I can smell the whiskey on his breath and see the yellow stains on his teeth when he smiles.
"Do you know who I am?" he asks, his accent thick but his English clear.
I stare directly into his eyes. They're pale blue, almost colorless, set in a face flushed red with alcohol and excitement.
"Should I?" My voice comes out rough, my throat dry from the chemicals they used to knock me out.
He laughs. "Oh, maybe your husband has mentioned me. Sebastian Makris. We're friends, since he seems to be a fan of sending me gifts."
In truth, I overheard Ares and his brothers talking about a Sebastian, which I'm assuming is him, but I can't remember anything more.
I shake my head. "No, and I know all his friends," I say.
He looks at me for a moment, and I fully believe he's going to slap me, but he doesn't.
"What do you want with me?" I ask, forcing my face to stay neutral while trying to keep my heart from exploding in my chest.
Sebastian smiles. "Straight to business." He shifts his weight, his knees cracking as he adjusts his position. "What I want is for your husband to understand the consequences of his actions."
"What actions?" I ask.
"He's been very busy, your new husband. Killing my men. Taking my territory." Sebastian gestures vaguely. "Making quite a mess here in Greece."
The thin man laughs from where he stands at the bottom of the stairs. "He's going to be real mad when he finds out we've got his pretty little wife."
Sebastian shoots him a look that silences him immediately. "That's the whole fucking point."
He turns back to me, reaching out to touch my face. I jerk away, but there's nowhere to go with the barrel at my back.
"You don't look scared," he observes. "You should be."
I meet his gaze steadily, making sure to continue hiding all my fear. "If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead already."
Sebastian laughs again, patting my cheek with a touch that's almost affectionate. I wish I could bite him.
"Smart girl. No, we don't want you dead." His smile fades, his expression hardening. "But we're going to make you wish you were by the end of all this."
He stands and straightens his jacket. "Your husband took something from me. Now I've taken something from him. An eye for an eye, as they say."
"And what happens now?" I ask, forcing myself to maintain eye contact despite the growing knot of fear in my stomach.
"Now?" Sebastian spreads his hands. "Now we wait. Ares Kastaris is going to come running to save his bride, and when he does…" He makes a gun with his fingers, points it at me, and mimes pulling the trigger. "Bang."
The thin man giggles at this, a high, eerie sound that makes my skin crawl.
"You know, when they told me Ares Kastaris had taken a wife, and so soon after his father's death, I didn't believe it." He studies me, his head tilted. "He's so cold and seems so boring," he says.
I say nothing, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
"But looking at you now," Sebastian continues, "I can see why he might make an exception."
He reaches down suddenly and grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "I bet your pussy tastes like honey," he says, laughing. "Maybe I'll need to sample it before we're done with you."
I wrench my face away from his grasp. "I bet you won't say that in front of Ares," I say, my voice low and steady despite the tremor I feel in my limbs. "If you touch me, hurt me, there won't be a place on this earth where you can hide from him."
Sebastian's eyes widen in mock fear. "Ooh, the big bad wolf is coming to blow my house down. I'm shaking." He laughs, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Let him come. That's the whole point, sweetheart."
"You should be, coward. If he knows where to find me—you're dead."
"Enough," Sebastian yells and slaps me across the face, the sting radiating through my body. "Keep running your mouth and I'll stick my cock in it."
He turns to the thin man.
"Get the camera ready," Sebastian instructs him. "I want to send Mr. Kastaris a little video message to let him know his wife is in good hands."
My stomach drops at his words. A video. Proof of life, but also a way to torment Ares, to show him I'm at their mercy.
Sebastian's lackey pulls out a phone and fiddles with it for a moment before holding it up. "Ready."
Sebastian positions himself next to me, one hand gripping my shoulder hard enough to bruise. "Smile for your husband, bitch."
I stare directly into the camera, trying to convey with my eyes what I can't say out loud. I'm alive. Come find me.
"Hello, Ares," Sebastian says. "As you can see, I have something that belongs to you."
He squeezes my shoulder harder, his fingers digging into my flesh. I refuse to flinch, to show any sign of pain.
"Your wife is quite beautiful," he continues. "It would be a shame if something happened to her, but that's entirely up to you."
He gives the camera a hard smile. "You have twenty-four hours to give us the Nafplio port and the money you took. All of it. Or your lovely bride here will start losing pieces of herself. We'll start small—a finger, perhaps. Maybe an ear. And work our way up from there."
I feel sick at his words, but I keep my expression neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
"Twenty-four hours, Kastaris," Sebastian repeats. "The clock starts now."
The man lowers the phone, and Sebastian releases his grip on my shoulder, standing up with a grunt.
"Send it and make sure it gets to him directly." He looks down at me, his pale eyes glittering. "Thank you for your participation sweetheart."
As I stare up at him, I can't help but think, I might be tied down, but I'm not broken. I've survived worse than this. And they clearly don't know who my husband is.