Chapter 19
Alina
I jolt awake to the sound of someone banging on the cage bars.
“Get up. Back against the bars. Now.”
I open my eyes to see Valentin’s familiar tall, lean figure looming outside of the cage, his foot tapping impatiently. “What?”
Valentin motions for me to get up. “On your feet. Back against the bars.”
Confusion spikes through me as I force myself upright, my body lagging a second behind my fear.
I back into the bars, instinctively folding my arms over myself, suddenly aware of how little I’m wearing and how exposed that makes me.
Valentin opens the cage door and steps inside, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. “Hands out. If you try anything, it won’t end well for you.”
I’m still too weak to fight him, and I know it. Picking this moment to resist would only end one way.
Besides, I’m too curious about what’s going on. “Where are you taking me?”
Valentin snaps the handcuffs on before grabbing my upper arm and leading me out of the cage. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”
Rude.
My heartbeat quickens as he takes me out of the bedroom, my bare feet padding against the wooden floor. I haven’t left the cage, the bedroom, in what feels like forever. It’s almost disorienting.
Valentin takes me into a large bathroom down the hall where a middle-aged woman in a black maxi dress with long, dark hair is pulling items out of a floral toiletry bag—a hairbrush, a pair of tweezers, nail clippers. An assortment of beauty products.
Valentin speaks to the woman in Russian before pushing me toward her and shutting the door on his way out of the bathroom.
“He said you must remain cuffed until it’s time to get dressed,” the woman tells me before opening the door to the walk-in shower. “Go on. Clean well.”
My shock and confusion paralyze me. “I don’t understand.”
“The Pakhan has requested that you be cleaned and dressed. Properly.”
What in the world is Gavriil up to?
She doesn’t give up any more information, so I do as I’m told, remove the lingerie, and enjoy a hot shower with the privacy of frosted glass. When I’m done, I wrap a towel around myself and sit down on a stool so that she can dry my hair, comb it, and fix it.
For the first time in a while, I can actually see myself in a mirror. As expected, it’s not a pretty sight.
It’s exactly what he forced me to become.
The woman staring back at me looks smaller. Sharper. Like pieces of her have been carved away.
My cheekbones jut out, my face too angular now, like my body hasn’t caught up to what I’ve survived.
There are dark circles underneath my eyes that she has to touch up when she tends to my eyebrows and dry lips. I’m afraid to see what I look like under the towel.
She then sticks her head out of the bathroom to say, “She’s ready to get dressed. Uncuff her.”
Valentin comes back in and takes the handcuffs off my wrists. He casts an uneasy look at the tweezers and other tools on the bathroom counter. “Maybe I should stay in here.”
“You will not,” she replies firmly. “She will not hurt me. I’ll stop her if she does.”
I quietly exhale in relief. The last thing that I want is for him to watch me get dressed, and I doubt Gavriil would want that either.
“Fine,” Valentin grunts before stepping back out and shutting the door.
“I don’t even know your name,” I say to her as she reaches up to unzip the wardrobe bag hanging on an upper cabinet door.
“Klara,” she tells me. “Though, I doubt you’ll see me again.”
My eyes widen. “Is Gavriil…”
“He won’t hurt me,” Klara replies, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I’m leaving the city soon. Returning to Russia.”
My heartbeat slows down a little. I have a habit of assuming the worst from Gavriil.
“This is what you must wear,” Klara tells me as she pulls out a black dress with a white collar and white cuffs on the short sleeves.
“This is what Gavriil chose?” I ask her. It’s quite…modest compared to what he picked out for me the last few times.
“Yes,” she replies before handing the dress over to me. She reaches back into the bag and pulls out a pair of tights, a lace black bra, and matching panties.
I could almost cry at the sight of panties with some form of coverage.
“I’ll turn around. Don’t stab me with the tweezers,” she warns me with a grin before turning to face the door.
I also smile a little. At least she’s kind and giving me some leeway. Gavriil’s guards are so strict and heavy-handed.
My smile fades when I pull off the towel and peer at myself in the bathroom mirror that stretches above the long countertop. My ribs and collarbones are more pronounced, while my curves aren’t. I’m much slimmer than I was before, and I’m sure that I’ve lost a decent amount of my muscle mass.
That puts me at a disadvantage. As if I already wasn’t at one in every other way.
I tear my eyes away from the mirror to get dressed. Every piece fits perfectly. It’s good to be fully dressed again in nice, warm clothes. It almost feels like being handed back a piece of myself.
My stomach knots as I feel just a semblance of normalcy for a second as I adjust the collar and the end of the dress as it stops a few inches above my knees.
But nothing about my life is normal. It never has been.
“I’m done,” I tell Klara.
She turns back around and reaches into the very bottom of the wardrobe bag to pull out a pair of black flats then hands them over to me. “I would’ve chosen something nicer.”
“Better than being barefoot,” I reply before slipping the shoes on. They’re a little stiff since they’re new, but I’m not complaining about a nice outfit after what I’ve been through recently.
“Turn to me,” Klara says, prompting me to face her with my hands at my sides.
She fixes my hair and touches up the light pink lipstick that looks natural but gives my lips a little more life. She smooths out the bottom of my short sleeves and does a better job at properly creasing my collar.
“There. You’re all done,” Klara tells me. “I’ll have to tell the guard to return, but I can give you a few more minutes.”
My throat tightens as a surge of gratitude hits me. “Thank you.”
She nods once before putting her things away, going slower than I know she has to.
During that time, I take a few deep breaths, preparing myself for whatever comes next because I don’t know what to expect. Gavriil told me that today is a big day, but that just makes me more nervous.
Once Klara finishes, she opens the door. “She’s done.”
Valentin places the handcuffs back on my wrists and pulls me out of the bathroom by my arm.
I manage to meet Klara’s eyes over my shoulder for a second before I’m led down the hallway. My stomach flips as I soon hear voices coming from another room. Among them, I easily pick out Gavriil’s.
Valentin leads me inside. My knees threaten to give out when I see how many of them are seated at a conference table, all armed, alert, and very aware of who I am.
Of course, Gavriil is sitting at the head.
He glances over his shoulder at me, his gaze lingering on my body as he takes in his outfit of choice. “In that chair.”
I don’t even see the chair near his left side until Valentin drags me over to it. It’s smaller than everyone else’s, making me look and feel the same way as I sit down in it. I fold my cuffed hands in my lap, heart pounding heavily, as I glance around the room.
What the hell am I doing in here?
What unnerves me more than the stares is the lack of them. No one looks at me at all. They go on with their meeting like I’m not even there. Like I’m just a piece of furniture.
And furniture doesn’t get a voice.
My face heats up in humiliation as my eyes shift to Gavriil, who listens intently as one of his men gives him a report. Strangely, it’s all in English.
“Daniil and I are working on developing a map of the Irish territories, complete with homes, businesses, and patrol routes. We’ll know exactly where to hit them, and we won’t get pinned down or outmaneuvered again.”
Again?
“I want routine updates on that, Matvei,” Gavriil replies.
Matvei nods. “I’ll get you one tomorrow.”
Gavriil gestures to a man with a shaved head on the other side of the table. “Pyotr.”
Pyotr straightens up in his seat. “We have equipped our most important buildings with updated security systems and cameras. Old locks have been replaced. Blind spots have been eliminated. They’ll be harder to hit without the attackers being caught or at least slowed down.”
Curiosity eats through my embarrassment as I soak in all of the information that Gavriil’s men feed him.
I can’t paint the whole picture yet, but I do know that they’re in conflict with the Irish.
If they’re improving their defenses, an attack against them must’ve already happened or they’re expecting one soon.
I stay as still as stone, not drawing any extra attention to myself so that they don’t stop talking. If I’m going to be stuck here for whatever Gavriil’s reasons are, I’m going to take advantage of being so close and take in all the information that I can.
Maybe I’ll hear something that can help me and Dominik.
“I want that work done faster,” Gavriil tells his men as he gets to his feet. He walks behind me. His fingers brush the back of my shoulders, deliberate and possessive, like a reminder that I’m here because he allows it. “I want to know what they’re doing and when. We can’t go in blind.”
I fight the shudder that betrays me anyway. My nails pierce my palms as I remain still, trying to focus on what he’s saying as he roams around the head of the table. What does he mean by going in blind?
“And are there any leads on the traitor under Leon’s command?” Gavriil asks, making my eyes snap to his.
“Not yet. He still won’t give us names, so either he doesn’t know who it is or is protecting them. We’re still tracking several of his men’s finances, texts, and calls,” someone answers.
So, I was right? Leon may have made a mistake but not one to intentionally hurt the Bratva.
A few more reports from other men are given, but they’re only minor updates that don’t tell me much other than equipment being replaced and men being shuffled around on different posts and patrols. What I do know is that something big has happened to cause all this sudden shake up.
I want to know more. I want to be brought back into the room.
Once everyone but Valentin is dismissed, Gavriil moves toward me again and grabs the arms of the chair, easily turning the whole thing to where I face him. “I like this on you, printsessa,” he says softly. That makes it worse.
His approval shouldn’t matter. The fact that it does terrifies me.
It makes me feel attractive. More confident.
“It’s an interesting choice,” I reply nonchalantly. I press my legs together as he leans over me, hands still resting on the chair arms.
Gavriil’s eyes sweep over my body, lingering on my thighs for a moment. It’s enough to send a wave of heat rushing over me. “Would you prefer my other choice?”
“No,” I answer too quickly, feeling my face flush.
The corner of his mouth turns up, making me wonder how he’d look with a genuine smile on his face. Would it make him even more handsome? Or would the sight be disturbing?
“You behaved,” Gavriil tells me as he lifts a hand to brush his fingers along my hair. “And you may have been right about poor Leon being the fall guy. I almost want to reward you.”
My pulse flutters at his compliment, then guilt immediately follows. I shouldn’t care what he thinks about me.
Gavriil says something to Valentin in Russian before he grabs my wrists to haul me out of the chair, back to my feet.
My heart sinks a little. I don’t want to go back to the cage so quickly. Even if it was odd, I liked being in here observing their meeting.
I didn’t feel like just a prisoner, even if that’s foolish of me to believe.
Before Valentin herds me out of the room, I glance behind me at Gavriil, our eyes locking for a moment. A sudden pull deep in my chest makes my breathing waver. Part of me doesn’t want to leave the room because of him.
“I’ll see you soon, printsessa,” he promises, but it doesn’t sound like a threat. It sounds…reassuring.
My cheeks burn with shame as Valentin leads me back to the bedroom. I hate feeling like this. So confused. So drawn to him. So out of control.
“I don’t understand him,” Valentin mutters under his breath.
I cast him a confused look.
“What makes you different from the others? You’re just another pretty face,” Valentin says.
“You should be groveling at his feet by now while trembling, terrified of him when you’re not screaming his name loud enough the whole house hears.
That must be it. The Pakhan isn’t used to rejection or a lack of fear,” Valentin mutters.
My eyes widen. It’s not like I haven’t heard this stuff before, but what unnerves me is that he may be right. Am I being treated differently because I refuse to give him what he wants and I’m not scared of him?
My relationship with Dom certainly sets me apart, but Gavriil was planning on giving me the same treatment as all the other women he kept in his cage. What changed? What made him switch his tactics?
The thought of Gavriil treating me differently makes my stomach flip. He could be planning something much worse, especially since I’ve made it my mission to get under his skin and see what really makes him tick.
If Gavriil is starting to unravel, I can pull the thread.
Valentin removes my handcuffs and locks me in the cage before leaving the bedroom, still muttering bitterly under his breath, now in Russian.
I drop down onto the mattress and run my fingers through my fresh, clean hair, not even able to fully enjoy being dressed up and made up.
All I can think about is Gavriil and the uncontrollable things that he makes me feel from simply having his attention on me.
I can’t ever act on them. Because the moment I do, I lose everything.