Chapter Seven - Hannah
The first thing I notice when I wake is the softness beneath me. My eyes flutter open, my vision blurry as I take in the ornate ceiling above—a chandelier hanging in the center, its crystals catching the soft morning light.
This isn’t my apartment.
I sit up abruptly, my heart racing. The room is luxurious, decorated in warm tones with heavy velvet curtains draped over tall windows. The bed I’m lying in is massive, its headboard carved with intricate designs.
Panic surges as the memories come rushing back. Kris. The basement. The gunshot that still echoes in my mind.
Him.
Makar Sharov.
The image of him standing over Kris’s trembling body, calm and detached as he pulled the trigger, sends a shiver down my spine. I had heard about men like him, but seeing it—seeing him—was something else entirely.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet touching the plush rug. My body feels heavy, sluggish, and my head pounds faintly. The last thing I remember is calling the police, the pressure at the back of my neck, and then—nothing.
Where am I now?
I move cautiously, glancing around the room. There’s a wardrobe in the corner, a polished vanity table, and a door slightly ajar that leads to what I assume is an en suite bathroom. Everything looks expensive, pristine.
I need to get out of here.
The door creaks softly as I push it open, stepping into a long hallway lined with artwork and elegant sconces. The house —or mansion, judging by the opulence—is silent, but the quiet hum of distant activity makes my pulse quicken.
I follow the hallway, my bare feet making no sound against the hardwood floor. At the end of the corridor, a grand staircase spirals downward into what looks like a sprawling foyer.
I descend the stairs quickly, my heart pounding as I glance around for an exit. The massive front door looms ahead, but when I try the handle, it doesn’t budge. Locked.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, glancing around desperately. My eyes catch on a telephone sitting on a small table by the wall.
Hope surges in my chest as I rush to it, lifting the receiver with trembling hands. My fingers quickly dial 911, and I press the phone to my ear, holding my breath.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a calm voice answers.
Relief floods through me, and I speak quickly, the words tumbling out. “My name is Hannah Fox. I’m being held against my will. Makar Sharov—he killed a man in front of me. Kris Hunter. He shot him, and now he’s kidnapped me. I don’t know where I am.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and the operator’s voice returns, clipped and professional. “Where is Makar Sharov now?”
I glance around the empty foyer, my breath hitching. “I—I don’t know.”
The voice takes on a chilling edge. “Maybe he’s behind you.”
The receiver slips from my fingers, clattering against the table as realization slams into me. The line wasn’t connected to the police. It was a trap.
I turn slowly, my stomach knotting, and there he is.
Makar.
He stands at the base of the stairs, leaning casually against the banister, his lips curved into a grin. He’s dressed sharply as always, his dark suit tailored to perfection, the faint gleam of his watch catching the light.
“Calling for help?” he says smoothly, his voice carrying across the room. “How predictable.”
I back away instinctively, my palms pressing against the table. “You… you planned this.”
His grin deepens as he takes a step closer, his movements deliberate, unhurried. “Did you really think I’d leave an unsecured phone in reach of a guest like you?”
“I’m not your guest,” I snap, my voice trembling despite my best effort to sound strong. “I’m your prisoner.”
He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his piercing blue eyes. “Prisoner is such a dramatic word. Let’s call you… my responsibility.”
I grit my teeth, my fists clenching at my sides. “Let me go.”
He laughs softly, the sound low and unsettling. “You know I can’t do that, Hannah. Not after what you’ve seen.”
His words send a chill through me, and I take another step back, my legs hitting the edge of a nearby table. “You can’t keep me here forever.”
“No,” he agrees, closing the distance between us with a few long strides. “For now, you’ll stay exactly where I want you.”
My back presses against the wall as he stops in front of me, his presence overwhelming. The air between us feels charged, heavy, and I force myself to meet his gaze despite the instinct to look away.
His hand moves, and I flinch, but he only brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle.
“You’re scared,” he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with something darker. “Good. Fear keeps people alive.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He leans closer, his expression fading into something colder, more calculating. “Hate me all you want, little fox. Understand this: I could have killed you last night. I didn’t.”
“Why?” I demand, my voice cracking. “Why keep me alive?”
His eyes bore into mine, unreadable and intense. “I don’t make decisions lightly,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You… you’re an interesting complication.”
Before I can respond, his hand presses against the wall beside my head, caging me in. His other hand lifts to my chin, tilting my face upward so I can’t look away.
“You think you’re brave,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk again. “But bravery only lasts until the consequences catch up.”
The heat of his closeness makes my breath hitch, my heart racing despite the fear coursing through me.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I lie, the words trembling on my lips.
He chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Liar.”
For a moment, the world feels impossibly small, the only thing I can focus on is his gaze and the weight of his presence.
“You’ll stay here, Hannah,” he says finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you behave, maybe I won’t have to teach you what happens to people who defy me.”
His words are calm, almost conversational, but they’re sharp enough to cut through the tension, leaving me raw and exposed.
I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. His presence is suffocating, his authority absolute. Beneath the fear simmering in my veins, anger stirs.
“What’s wrong with you?” I snap, my voice trembling with rage. “Do you think you can just keep me here like some kind of prisoner? You’re insane!”
His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes darken, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face.
“You killed a man,” I continue, my words spilling out like poison. “You shot Kris in cold blood and didn’t even flinch. Do you even feel anything, or are you just some kind of monster?”
The last word hangs in the air, and for a moment, silence stretches between us.
Then, in a blur of motion, Makar closes the distance between us, his hand slamming against the wall beside my head. I flinch, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. His face is inches from mine now, his piercing blue eyes locked on to mine with a fury that steals my breath.
“Careful, little fox,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t want to know what happens when you push me too far.”
My breath catches in my throat, but I refuse to look away. “You already pushed too far,” I spit, the words defiant despite the fear coiling in my chest. “You killed someone. You kidnapped me. You don’t get to lecture me about boundaries.”
He leans closer, the heat of his anger radiating off him in waves. “You think you’re innocent in all this?” he asks, his tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “You think you didn’t make a choice the moment you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” I snap back. “You think I wanted to see you murder someone? To get dragged into your twisted world?”
He tilts his head, a humorless smirk tugging at his lips. “No, I don’t think you wanted any of this, but here you are, Hannah. Here’s the reality: you had a chance to save yourself.”
I blink, his words throwing me off-balance. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” he says, gesturing to the phone on the table. “This was a test. Your last chance to prove you were worth sparing. All you had to do was stay quiet. All you had to do was keep your head down and not snitch. You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
My stomach drops, a chill washing over me. “I had to try.”
His smile fades, replaced by a cold, detached expression. “I gave you a choice,” he says evenly. “You failed. Miserably.”
I take a step back, my legs trembling. “You’re insane,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Am I?” he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or am I just a man doing what’s necessary to survive in a world that doesn’t forgive mistakes?”
I shake my head, my anger rising again despite the fear gripping me. “You’re not surviving, Makar. You’re terrorizing people. You’re destroying lives without even thinking twice.”
He exhales sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I don’t destroy lives for fun, Hannah. I do it because I have to. In my world, hesitation gets you killed. Trust me, the only reason you’re still breathing right now is because I’m debating whether you’re worth the effort.”
My throat tightens, and I shrink against the wall, my gaze darting toward the door.
“Don’t,” he says sharply, his voice snapping like a whip.
I freeze, his warning anchoring me in place. His hand moves to his pocket, and when he pulls out a sleek black pistol, my blood turns to ice.
My breath hitches, my heart hammering as he holds the gun casually at his side, his grip steady and sure.
“Do you know what the problem is with people like you?” he asks, his tone almost conversational again. “You think the world operates on fairness, on justice. You think if you scream loud enough, someone will come running to save you.”
I can’t look away from the gun, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“Here’s the truth, little fox,” he continues, taking a step closer. “No one’s coming. Not the police, not your friends, no one. The only person who decides whether you live or die right now is me.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see me break. “Then just do it,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Stop playing these games.”
For a moment, the room is silent, the tension thick enough to choke. His gaze locks on to mine, unreadable, and the weight of his presence presses down on me like a physical force.
Then, without a word, he raises the gun and presses it against my temple.
My breath catches, my entire body trembling as the cold metal bites into my skin. His face is so close now that I can see every detail—the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near his brow, the glint of something dark and dangerous in his eyes.
“Be very careful what you wish for, Hannah,” he murmurs, his voice soft but laced with menace. “Because I don’t make empty threats.”