1. Maxim
Chapter 1
Maxim
W hen I come to, the first thing I see is a pair of dark, terrified eyes watching me. Talia’s face is hovering over mine, and the worry in them has me immediately trying to comfort her.
“I’m fine,” I whisper. My voice is rough, my throat so dry it hurts, and every part of my body is screaming at me. I’ve never been in so much pain in my life, and I’m not sure how many more beatings I can take. This last one had me blacking out, and it’s the first time Miguel’s ever taken it this far. He’s pissed that Val’s no longer here, and he’s mad about all the times Mateo’s forced him to quit during a beating. The man is out for blood, and he’s determined to get it. I don’t think he’ll be happy until my dead body is lying at his feet.
“Here. Drink this,” Talia says, cupping the back of my head to lift me while she brings her bottle of water to my lips.
“No,” I start to say, refusing to take some of her water, even if it is just a mouthful. We aren’t given enough of it, and we’re both dehydrated.
“Yes,” she insists, tipping the bottle up so I have no choice but to take a drink or let it go to waste. Drinking it makes me feel guilty enough, but just letting her sacrifice drip onto the floor is a wastefulness that I can’t bring myself to do. When I open my mouth and accept what she’s offering, I see the relief in her eyes. After I’ve taken two drinks, I start to lift up, refusing to take another drop. She pulls back the bottle and rests her hand on my chest.
“Don’t move yet. You need to rest. Does anything feel broken?”
I’d laugh if I wasn’t in so much pain. “Everything,” I say, mustering up enough strength to give her a small smile. I’m fairly confident I have several cracked ribs, but aside from that I don’t think anything is broken. I move my fingers, reminding myself that they’re still unharmed. I can tolerate everything else as long as my hands are okay. It takes my sluggish brain a few minutes to realize the light is still on. They always shut the light off when they leave, but if it’s on, then that means we aren’t alone.
“Fuck,” I whisper, turning my head to look around the room. Miguel grins at me from the doorway. He’s leaning against it, gun in hand, and an amused look in his dark eyes. He’s watching Talia, noticing the way she’s trying to take care of me, and I know he’s already thinking of ways to use this against me.
“He can’t see you helping me,” I tell her in Russian, but it’s too late. Before she can scoot away, Miguel gives a soft laugh and flicks the lights off before slamming the door shut behind him. I groan at the thought of him hurting her to get to me, the very idea of it making me feel like I’m going to be sick. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, and it’s slowly making me feel like I’m losing my mind. The darkness that’s like a thick blanket weighing me down, the fear that something will happen to the woman next to me—all of it works together to make me feel like I’m going insane.
“Goddammit,” I growl, wishing I could get her out of here and hating that I can’t.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I screamed your name when you passed out, and when he dragged you over, I crawled over to help. I wasn’t thinking. I was too scared and worried about you. Please don’t be mad.”
Hearing the pain in her voice hurts worse than the beating I just took. I reach up to where her face was before the lights went out, not at all surprised to find that she’s still hovering over me. We’ve only ever held hands, but this time I cup her face, running my thumb over her cheek, feeling the tears as they hit my skin.
“I’m not mad at you, Talia. I just don’t want him to hurt you.”
More tears wet my fingers as her hand wraps around my wrist. I feel her lean into my palm before the heat of her soft breath hits my skin.
“Please don’t cry,” I tell her.
I feel her give a soft nod, but the tears don’t stop, and my heart breaks at her pain. I feel it more strongly than I feel my own. I’ve waited my whole life to meet someone who makes me feel like my music does, and finding her after being kidnapped is the last thing I ever expected. There’s no denying that it’s happened, though. She makes me feel alive, the kind of deep-rooted joy that I’ve never experienced outside of music before. It’s a strong, undeniable feeling of rightness , and there’s no way I could ever walk away now that I’ve found her.
Wincing as I sit up, I scoot my back against the wall and pull her closer so her head is resting against my shoulder as I cup the back of her head. The chains are annoying, but I work around them and keep her close.
“We’re going to survive this,” I promise her. “My dad and brother can find anyone, and they’re going to find us. Val will fill them in on everything he knows, and then they’ll be coming for us.”
“My family will too,” she whispers. I hear her sniffle, and I think she’s stopped crying, but I brush my thumb across her cheek to be sure. Relieved to not feel any fresh tears, I stroke her hair and keep her close to me. After a few seconds, she adds, “I swear I’m usually cleaner than this.”
She can’t see the smile I give, but she hears the soft laugh before I say, “I swear I usually smell a lot better than this.”
Her laugh makes my smile grow even bigger as she says, “I hate to say it, but you might just be smelling me.”
“No, it’s definitely me. I blamed it on Val when he was here, but now that he’s gone, it’s painfully obvious that it’s me.”
“At least we both stink. It’d be really embarrassing if I were the only one.”
She’s right. It definitely would be, but our situation has made us rethink our priorities. I desperately miss showers and would happily kill one of the guards to get one, but survival takes precedence. We can scrub this filth off later. The most important thing is that we survive it.
“Well, while we sit here and smell nice together, you can tell me more about yourself,” I say.
“What do you want to know?”
I think about telling her that I want to know everything, every single detail about the woman I’ve become enamored with, but instead I say, “You said you have two older brothers. Are you close to them?”
“Very, and I miss them like crazy.”
The sadness in her voice has me quickly saying, “We don’t need to talk about them if you’d rather not.”
“No, it’s fine. I think they’d like you. Dima is the oldest. He’s twenty-five, and when I was three, my mom and dad adopted Bran. He’s a month older than me. I miss them so much. We’ve always been close, especially Bran and me. He’s deaf, so my whole family learned sign language.” She’s quiet for a second before she adds, “I’m so used to signing, and my hands feel useless and empty, if that makes sense.”
I keep stroking her hair, forgetting all about the pain that radiates through every cell in my body and the cuts that are just now starting to clot, and say, “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been playing the piano since I was a kid, and not being able to play is like a physical ache in my hands.”
She reaches up and wraps her hand around mine. “You have beautiful hands. I’m not at all surprised that you’re a musician.”
Despite the hell we’re currently living in, she manages to pull a genuine smile from me, effortlessly making me forget about everything but her.
“Beautiful, huh?” I can’t help but tease.
She gives a soft laugh. “I couldn’t help but notice them.”
“What do Val’s hands look like?”
I feel the soft shrug of her shoulder against me. “I didn’t notice.”
It’s the first time I’ve been grateful for the dark. It spares me the embarrassment of her seeing the huge smile I’m wearing. I have zero experience with women and dating. Hell, she’s the first girl I’ve ever even held hands with. My cousins and I have always put the Bratva first. As soon as I turned eighteen, I officially joined, and it’s not easy to bring someone else into that. During high school, I had plenty of opportunities to hook up with the girls in our class, but I never wanted any of them. They didn’t make me feel anything. Music has always been my first love. I remember listening to my mom play, and it was like every note lit me up from the inside. I’ve been waiting twenty-one years for someone else to make me feel that way, but as soon as I locked eyes with Talia, it was like I could hear an echo of the sweetest music—a song that was just waiting to be created and brought to life.
I keep stroking her hair and cheek while I ask, “Is Bran in the Bratva? How does he manage it? It must be difficult without being able to hear.”
“Do you have any plans to hurt my family or try and takeover?”
I give a soft laugh. “No. You said you’re in the Pacific Northwest, right?”
“Yeah.”
“My family is on the East Coast, and we have no plans to change that. We like where we’re at. Expanding would split us up, and that’s not something my dad and uncles would ever want.”
Satisfied with my answer, she says, “Well, I’m sure it’s not a surprise to you, but my family keeps me in the dark as much as possible. I don’t know details about what they do, but I know Bran’s talent with a gun. We all do. They call him Tikhiy D’yavol .”
“Silent Devil?” I ask.
“Yeah, like a shadow in the night, silent and deadly. He’s a sniper. He can shoot just about anything from anywhere. It’s too dangerous for him to be in the middle of the fighting because he can’t hear what’s going on behind him, but from a distance, he’s unstoppable.”
I hear the pride in her voice, and I love that she’s close to her family. It makes me even more curious about them, and a deaf sniper intrigues the hell out of me. “I’d love to meet him,” I tell her. “I’d like to meet all of them.” I grin and add, “Especially Wallace. He sounds smarter than some people I’ve met.”
She laughs and I feel her shake her head in agreement. “He’s a genius. I’ve even taught him a few signs.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, he knows sit, lie down, and roll over, but I want to teach him more. Border collies love to learn new things, and they really love having a job to do. They’re not the type of dog that’s happy just lying around. So what about you? You mentioned a brother. Do you have any other siblings or pets?”
“No, I don’t have any pets and only one younger brother, Nikita, but we all call him Niki. He took after my dad and ever since he was little, he’s been obsessed with computers. I took after our mom and became obsessed with the piano.”
“She’s a musician too?”
“Yeah, she loves to play the piano, but she’s shy about it. I don’t have any other siblings, but I’m so close to my cousins that they may as well be my brothers and sisters.”
“That’s how it is with my family,” she says. “We’re all very close, and my dad’s top men live on our property, so I grew up with their kids, too. They’re like family to me.”
I keep asking her questions, trying to picture her life in my head as we sit in darkness, waiting for the inevitable sound of the door opening again. I’ve lost all concept of time, and it feels like hours since they brought our last meal. We should be getting one more, but I’m guessing Miguel is going to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’s a fucking sadist, and I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate him.
Talia’s voice gets softer, her words coming farther and farther apart, until they stop altogether as her breathing evens out. Not wanting her neck to be sore, I carefully move her so her head is in my lap. She makes a soft noise, the movement pulling her from sleep, so I stroke her hair and whisper that it’s okay. Some part of her must recognize my voice because she instantly calms and lets out a deep breath. I keep stroking her hair, not wanting to stop touching her. Without her voice to fill the room, the darkness is even more oppressive, making me feel like I can’t breathe.
I fucking hate it, and when we finally get out of here, I’m never going to be in a fully dark room ever again. There will always be some form of light coming in, even if it is just the moonlight streaming in from an open window. The weight of Talia’s head in my lap and the sound of her soft breathing is what I force myself to focus on. A tune plays in my head, one I’ve been composing for her, and while she sleeps, my fingers gently move, playing the melody that only I can hear. I’m calling it Svetik Moy , My Light, because that’s what she is to me. She’s the light in this darkness, the only good thing in this place.
Eventually I fall asleep, resting my head against the hard wall with my fingers still woven into her hair. I feel like I’ve just fallen asleep when I hear the heavy door scratching across the concrete as it’s pulled open. My head is thick with sleep, but I’m coherent enough to gently push Talia off me. She gives a soft whine of protest before I feel her whole body stiffen when she realizes what’s going on. Without another sound, she scurries away right before the lights are flicked on and Miguel steps in, followed closely by Juan and Jose. The cruel smirk on Miguel’s face makes it clear that today is not going to be a good day.
Juan walks over, unlocking Talia from her chain so he can lead her to the bathroom. I follow her with my eyes until she disappears from sight.
“Pretty girl,” Miguel says, stepping closer and watching my face for a reaction. I don’t give him one. I force myself to relax, keeping a bored look in my eyes when I meet his.
He gives a soft laugh when I don’t give him what he wants, and when Talia is brought back out, he lets out a groan that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Before Juan can secure her to the chain again, Miguel says something to him in Spanish that has him stepping aside so Miguel can take his place. Talia keeps her head down, avoiding his stare, so he hooks a finger under her chin, roughly forcing her face up to his. Without taking his eyes off her, he says, “Take him to the bathroom.”
His accent is thick, but he’s been speaking more English. Whether he’s learning it just so he can fuck with me or if he’s always known more than he’s let on, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t put it past him to learn some just so he can taunt me. Juan reaches for my chain, but I keep my eyes on Talia. I don’t want to leave her alone, and that’s exactly what Miguel is testing me on. Using every bit of willpower I have I pretend like I don’t give a fuck. Returning Miguel’s smile, I say in Russian, “Scream if he touches you.”
He may be studying up on his English, but there’s no way in hell he’s also managed to learn some Russian. The man only has so much free time available to him. His scowl lets me know I’m right. I resist giving him a smug grin because I know Talia will be the one to suffer for it. Letting Juan lead me to the bathroom, I step in and then quickly use the disgusting toilet before turning on the rusty faucet that only produces ice-cold water. Filling my mouth, I swish it around as best I can while I scrub at my face. There’s very little to be done without a rag or soap, but I lift my shirt and scrub at my chest and armpits, determined to at least try to get rid of how disgusting I feel. Spitting the water out, I pull my shirt back down, ignoring the black-and-blue bruises that decorate the majority of my body, and watch the cold water fall down the open drain. Val and I decided early on to not drink any of it. It doesn’t look all that clean, and if our captors aren’t even using it to give us our daily ration of water, then there’s no way in hell I’m going to willingly ingest it. Ignoring my empty stomach and the gnawing thirst that never seems to go away, I turn off the faucet and step out.
I’ve only been gone a few minutes and Talia hasn’t made any noise, but I don’t breathe easy until she’s in my line of sight and I see for myself that she’s okay. Her eyes are filled with fear, and I can see the way her body is softly shaking, but she’s still clothed, and I don’t see any signs that she’s been hurt. Miguel’s body is way too close to hers, though, and when I’m chained back in my usual spot, he reaches down and grabs her ass, making her let out a terrified yelp.
I raise a brow at him, schooling my features into a bored, exhausted expression. I don’t have to fake the exhaustion, but the bored is using all my willpower to perfect. When he doesn’t get the reaction he wants, he smacks her ass hard and then shoves her to the ground, ignoring the sob she lets out when her knees hit the hard floor. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood, but I refuse to show how much this is killing me. I won’t allow him to use her against me. It’s far too dangerous of a game to play with Talia at the center of it.
“You forgot our supper last night, Miguel,” I tell him as I sit with my back against the hard wall. “And it looks like you didn’t bring any breakfast with you. It’d be a shame if we starved to death and missed out on the pleasure of your company.”
Just like I’d hoped, he forgets about Talia and walks over to me, barking out an order to Jose and Juan. When the two men haul me up, I try not to show how much I’m dreading the upcoming beating.
“I’m sorry,” Talia quickly says in Russian, and the distraught sound of her voice has Miguel turning his gaze back to her.
“Don’t let him see that you care,” I warn her. My voice is flat and emotionless, the exact opposite of how I’m actually feeling. “No matter what he does to me, don’t let on that you care. It’ll just make things worse.”
She nods, and I know this isn’t going to be easy for her, but we don’t have any other choice. The most important thing is to keep these men away from her. If they keep their focus on hurting me, then maybe they won’t bother her, so I look at Miguel and give him a smile. “Ready, asshole?”
Turning his back on Talia, he barks out another order in Spanish, making me wonder if he’s been given some kind of promotion. The three of them seemed like they were on equal footing, but now it’s like Miguel is in charge. I never thought I’d miss Mateo, but I can’t help the quick glance I give to the door, wishing his Armani-suited ass would walk in and put a stop to this.
He doesn’t appear, though, and soon I’m strung back up and awaiting my beating while still in so much pain from the last one. Miguel doesn’t make me wait. He never does. I’m guessing he’s not big on foreplay. With him, it’s always straight to the point without bothering to get me ready for it. A pained groan escapes when he hits me in the kidney that makes him give a soft laugh.
“God, you’re such a fucking bastard,” I tell him, but he just grins and keeps punching.
When he hits my face, my vision darkens, and soon my mouth is filled with blood, and when the coughing starts, I can’t get it to stop. It feels like I’m being stabbed in the lungs with each breath I take. Spitting blood out, I force myself to take slow, shallow breaths, trying to get my coughing under control, but the bastard keeps hitting me, refusing to give me even a second of peace. We’ve done this enough times for me to know that I just need to outlast him. Aside from not liking foreplay, Miguel also has very poor stamina. I swear it’s why he’s so angry. He’s a shit lover, and every unsatisfied woman he leaves in his wake just fills him with even more rage that he then takes out on me. It’s a vicious cycle, but I’m not going to be the one to enlighten him and help him work through his problems. Instead I’m going to kill him the first chance I get.
The room starts to spin, and I know I’m close to passing out. Miguel must sense it because he gives me one more hard punch to the ribs, making me see stars as my pained groan fills the room. He smiles, clearly enjoying every second of my torture. Gasping for air, I stand before him with my arms hanging above my head and barely enough strength in my legs to keep me upright. He glares at me while I sway on my feet. This is usually the part where he growls something at me in Spanish and lets me go, laughing when I collapse to the floor, but today he just grins and raises his fists again.
The sick, twisted look on his face and the way Jose and Juan are side-eyeing him like they don’t know what the fuck is going on has all kinds of warning bells going off in my head. Keeping my eyes on Miguel, I say in Russian, “Don’t look. Close your eyes and ears and think about your family and Wallace. He’s not going to kill me, but I don’t want you to see this.”
Miguel has no idea what I’m saying, but he assumes I’m talking shit since I haven’t taken my eyes off him the entire time. Pissed at the imagined insult, he starts punching, and this time he doesn’t stop. I try to be quiet, but it’s impossible. Groans and grunts spill from my bloody lips, and when he focuses on my cracked ribs, I let out a ragged yell, unable to suppress it. The pain is blinding and all-consuming, and all I want is to pass out. When my vision starts to darken again, I welcome it with open arms.
One more punch to my kidneys is enough to make my body release its hold on consciousness. The last thing I hear is Miguel’s cruel laugh before I willingly slip into darkness.