Chapter 10
Alina
When I wake up, I don’t know where I am.
My vision swims as I lift my head from the hard floor, memories slipping through my fingers like water. For a second, I’m untethered—no time, no place, just the ache.
Goosebumps ripple over my skin as I force myself onto my hands and knees. My arms tremble so hard I almost buckle, but I force my head up anyway.
Things come into focus. Metal bars. A bed. A room.
Gavriil’s room. Gavriil’s bed. Gavriil’s cage.
I let my head drop, breath scraping in and out. Every movement costs me, but if I go down again, I’m not sure I can get back up.
I wrap my fingers around the bars. They’re weak, clumsy, like they don’t belong to me. I haul myself up and press my forehead to the metal. The room tilts. Nausea slams into my throat.
I turn my head just in time and retch bile onto the floor. There’s nothing in me, but my body tries anyway. I cling to the bars while spit strings from my mouth and my knees threaten to buckle.
I’ve been sick with the flu before, but nothing has ever hollowed me out like this. This is a type of pain and discomfort that I would’ve never been able to even imagine.
But I can’t stop. Not yet.
I drag the back of my hand across my mouth, my skin feeling cold and hot at the same time. My stomach lurches again, but nothing comes up besides a weak gagging sound. My knees shake, but I manage to keep my feet under me.
The bedroom door opens. My pulse spikes as Gavriil steps in with a white robe draped over his arm. What now?
“I’m going to make you a deal, Alina,” Gavriil tells me as he walks up to the cage door, looking as well-groomed and put-together as always in his suit.
Using the bars for support, I make my way toward the cage door, using up all my strength just to lift and move my bare feet across the floor.
Something unreadable crosses his face too quick to name.
“If you eat just a few bites, I’ll give you this robe,” Gavriil offers as he smooths his hand over the fluffy material. “Faux fur.”
How generous of him. No cruelty to animals, just me.
I eye the robe. It looks warm enough to stop the shaking. Thick enough to make the floor less brutal.
I glance up at Gavriil’s face. It’s unreadable, except for the faint curve of his mouth. He’s so certain I’ll take it.
He isn’t offering me this out of kindness. This is just psychological manipulation, pure and simple. It’s what he does best, and I’m not falling for it.
Even if there is a trace of care in his heart for me, I’m not going to let that distract me. If anything, I’m going to figure out how to weaponize it for my gain.
When I don’t reach for it, his expression tightens.
“Come on, Alina. It’s a good deal,” he says.
But what does he get?
I look away. If I take it, I give him what he wants: proof he can move me with rewards instead of pain. I can’t do that. I’ve come too far to succumb to him now.
Gavriil sighs heavily and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He taps around a few times before turning the screen toward me as a video plays. “What the hell happened to this woman who fought off three Bratva warriors?”
It’s the security camera footage of the night Dominik and his men kidnapped me off the street. I lean closer to get a better look, watching myself fight with everything I had to escape them. I landed some pretty good blows, even though I was much smaller than them.
Back then, I thought I was going to die if they took me.
Little did I know that everything was going to change. I was going to feel more alive than I ever did before with Dominik.
Until now.
“That’s the Alina I know,” Gavriil says once the video ends. He tucks his phone back into his pocket and meets my eyes through the bars. “I miss that fire.”
My pulse hammers, and I hate that I hear something like sincerity in his voice.
He steps closer. His hand slides through the bars and cups my cheek, thumb stroking once. “I want my wildcat back.”
I swallow and my eyes close, just for a second, as my body betrays me and leans into the warmth. I should bite his thumb off. I should jerk away. But something happens when he touches me. My body acts on its own accord, gravitating closer to him instead of pulling away.
Like my body is choosing survival over pride without asking me.
I hate that he can do this to me with one touch.
I open my eyes, nausea and guilt rolling together. Part of me wants to vomit at his feet just to make him recoil.
Wildcat is the nickname Dominik gave me. He’s the only person who should touch me like this. He’s the only one who truly cares about me. Letting Gavriil near me feels like…betrayal.
I clench my jaw as I fight through the guilt, a spark of defiance igniting within me. It burns through the numbness.
Gavriil is so ruthless, so cruel, yet he’s desperate for me, for anyone, to stand up to him. Why does he yearn for insolence? Because deep down he probably hates himself as much as the rest of us.
“What…” I say hoarsely, my voice weak and broken after disuse. Gavriil’s eyes widen in surprise that I’m talking to him. I swallow hard and try again, pushing past the pain in my throat and dry lips. “What were you whimpering about in your sleep?”
His hand drops. He steps back like I’ve hit him and his eyes turn flat and dangerous.
He didn’t expect that. Does he even remember any of it? Or does he wake up every morning and pretend the nightmares never happened?
Gavriil’s bearded jaw ticks once. I can feel the words he’s swallowing.
Does he want to scream at me? Does he want to deny it?
I’m dying to see his reaction. I want to see him crack.
After all, it’s what he deserves.
But he reins it all in.
One slow breath. Then another.
The tension drains from his face until he looks almost blank, except for the glint in his cold blue eyes that makes my stomach drop.
“My dead father,” he says quietly. “What about you? Were you whimpering about your dead brother?”
I lose my breath, blinking hard like he just slapped me in the face. That would’ve hurt less than his words.
I know that I’ve been having nightmares lately, but I only remember tiny fragments of them because I’m so disoriented whenever I wake up. I didn’t realize that I was making any noise or movements.
God, he’s such an asshole for throwing that in my face.
If I move fast enough, could I grab his throat through the bars?
Gavriil smirks and tosses the robe just out of reach on the floor. “There you are, dikaya koshka.”
I narrow my eyes, something sharp twisting in my chest. I only like Dominik calling me that, but I don’t speak up to tell him so. In fact, I don’t say another damn word to him.
He turns away, and for a split second his smirk slips. “I have work to do. Behave,” he says, then adds without looking back, “Or don’t. I prefer it when you don’t.”
Frustration sizzles through me as he leaves. My feelings are a mess that I don’t have the strength to untangle. I want Dominik, his arms, his voice, something solid to hold on to.
I miss him. And if there’s anyone who can help me get my head back on straight, it’s him. Even if I still can’t forgive him for what he did.
Being alone with Gavriil makes me feel unsteady, like my body can be tricked into betraying me. I hate that more than the cage.
I sink to the floor and rest my forehead against the bars. When my eyes close, the first thing I feel isn’t the cold metal, it’s the memory of Gavriil’s warm thumb on my cheek.
And how easily my body leaned into it.