Chapter 5 Wren
CHAPTER FIVE
WREN
After spending the rest of the day alone in my room, as usual, I find myself led back to the dining room again for dinner; this time, it’s my other guard, Alexei, who escorts me there.
I’m made to stand behind my chair and wait. Jagger arrives next, and I see he’s being brought in by the same two guards who brought him in earlier.
As soon as his eyes connect with mine, I run to him. Thankfully, nobody stops us, and again, he loops his bound cuffs over my head so he can hold me close.
“I love you so much,” I whisper against him, which has him squeezing me a little tighter. Afraid that we will be ripped away at any second, I pull back just enough so I can reach up on my tiptoes and hold his face. He meets me halfway, bending down and kissing me.
This time, he doesn’t hesitate to press his tongue in, kissing me with so much passion that I eventually have to pull back, not wanting to get too worked up in the home of our enemy.
“Isn’t this sweet?” The voice is cold, and as it rolls over me, I shiver, glancing at where Ivan’s just entered from a side door. “Jagger, come sit over here,” he says, gesturing to the same chair he sat in at breakfast.
Begrudgingly, Jagger leaves me to move to it, and I slowly move back to stand behind mine, unsure what games we’re in for today.
When Ivan gestures for me to take a seat, I do so without question.
It’s definitely better than kneeling at his side, but I’m still tense with worry.
Jagger is too, his eyes constantly darting between us.
“Now, Wren, I’m going to give you a choice.
” Chyort poberi! I curse internally in Russian, not looking forward to where this could be going.
Ivan lifts his hand to gesture for someone to come in, and a server enters with two plates of food.
He places one in front of Ivan, then stands up and waits for instruction.
Even though Ivan isn’t outright smirking, I can tell he’s amused right now. “Your choice is simple, either you eat, or he does—”
“Jagger,” I say instantly, not even needing to hear what else he has to say.
Jagger and I stare at one another, and even though there is no outward expression on his face, I already know everything he’s thinking.
He wants me to eat, especially since I didn’t get breakfast, but he understands why I did it.
Not just because he’d do the same, giving me the food if the choice was given to him, but because Ivan clearly expected me to choose myself, and I refuse to give him what he wants.
And when I look at him and see the pinch of surprise on his face, I know that is exactly what he expected. He can’t understand why I would choose Jagger over myself. He doesn’t understand love.
Silently, he motions to the man to give Jagger the plate of food while trying to hide his own frustration. I can see his brain practically spinning, and I worry about what his next attempt will be. Surely by now, he realizes I’m not going to turn on Jagger.
And why did he want that so badly? Because the woman he had loved turned on him? I’m sure she had an excellent reason, but he’s a narcissist; he may not think he’s done anything wrong.
They both eat silently, and I take the chance to assess our surroundings. There are five guards present: the two who brought Jagger in, Alexei, and two more I don’t know, stationed at the exits. Escaping this room will be harder than escaping my own room; there are too many eyes in here.
A loud clank has me glancing at where Jagger has dropped his spoon on his plate, his cuffed wrists clearly making it a struggle for him to eat. I wonder if they keep those on him all the time. If he weren’t bound like that, it’d probably be easier for him to escape.
My eyes roam the guards, wondering which of them has the key on them. There is nothing outright visible, but one of Jagger’s guards has a small bulge in his side pocket. It isn’t smooth like a phone, so it’s possible it’s a set of keys. Of course, even if I took them, he’d probably notice.
I’d be better off getting him something to pick the lock with.
The short chain between his wrists looks like he has enough room to work with.
I know Pete was far better at picking locks, but perhaps with the right tool, Jagger could do it too.
But what could be used to pick a lock? Pete once showed me his lock-picking kit, and I try to remember what it looked like.
Several thin metal tools. A knife or fork would be too big; it needed to be something smaller.
My mind scrambles with ideas until Ivan announces that dinner is over, and we are joining him in the parlour.
A sense of worry rolls through me. What else did he want from us? Was this because his games weren’t going as planned? What else would he try to do to break us?
As we enter the room, I take in the tall bookshelves filled with what appear to be mostly Russian textbooks, the ornate fireplace with a roaring fire, and two old-fashioned armchairs with tall backs, centered around it.
Ivan stops in front of the fireplace and turns to stare at us.
His assessing game bounces between the two of us before his eyes settle on Jagger, who’s currently being restrained by his two guards.
Meanwhile, Alexei is still holding onto my elbow, with a tighter grip than seems necessary, telling me maybe the guards know what’s about to happen in here.
There’s about six feet between Jagger and me, and we eye each other nervously.
“I thought we might play a little game,” Ivan starts.
Here we go…
My hands start to grow clammy in worry for what’s coming next, as if my body is already scared, sensing what is coming.
“Son, your turn first.” He motions for someone to enter, and a new guard I don’t recognize walks in. It’s not his large frame and intimidating scowl that makes me start to shake in fear; it’s the leather whip he’s holding in his palms.
He moves to Ivan’s side, standing almost a foot taller than him, as he turns to watch us with a look of disgust on his face. Why was he looking at us like that? What had we ever done to him?
“You have a choice,” Ivan tells Jagger. “Viktor here is going to dish out five lashes. You get to decide which of you gets them.” My eyes widen in fear, and before I can even finish sucking in a sharp breath of shock, Jagger slaps his hand against his own chest.
“Very well,” Ivan says, as if expecting as much. I then watch in horror as the guards drag Jagger to the centre of the room and force him to his knees.
“No! Please don’t do this!” I yell at anyone who will listen. But they all ignore me as the shirt is pulled over his head, left to hang from his bound wrists as Viktor takes his place behind him.
Jagger’s eyes meet mine, and he quickly signs, “Don’t watch.”
I shake my head, wanting to be strong for him, and he signs again, “Close your eyes for me, tiny flame. Please.”
I sign back, “I love you,” then shut my eyes and drop my head. The next two minutes are the worst of my life. The only noise in the room is the sound of the whip moving through the air and the wet whack it makes when it connects with Jagger’s back.
Tears roll down my cheeks, making me feel completely helpless. After the second one, my legs turn to jelly, and I start to fall. Alexei quickly wraps his arms around me so I don’t fall, and I want to push him away, but my body feels useless and unresponsive as I sniffle against him.
When silence falls, and I realize the whipping has finished, I open my eyes and find Jagger’s angry eyes on me. I quickly let go of Alexei and try to run to him, but he holds me back. “Please! Let me go!”
Ivan watches me in amusement before signaling to Jagger’s guards.
They pull his shirt back over his head, grab him under the arms, and pull him to his feet, then drag him back to where he had been standing.
I watch him, hoping he’ll lift his eyes to me and show me he’s okay, but he just pants heavily as he stares at the ground, which has me worried.
So instead, my gaze turns furious as I turn to Ivan. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” I yell, unable to hold back my venom. “Why would you do that? And to your own son! You’re disgusting!”
Instead of my anger upsetting him, it makes a full smile cover his face, as if my reaction is what he had hoped for, which just fuels my rage even more, that is, until he speaks. “Alright, Wren, it’s your turn.”
Jagger’s head whips up, his worried eyes watching Ivan as I just stare at him. I wasn’t sure what to say; I wasn’t even sure what he meant.
“Viktor is going to give out another five lashes. Would you like to take these, or do you want to give them to Jason?” he asks, using Jagger’s real name.
My alarmed eyes meet Jagger’s, and he thumps his own chest, telling me he wants to take them, but I shake my head. “Your back is already damaged. Five more could do permanent damage to you,” I tell him as a tear rolls free.
He shakes his head and his signs, his movements sharp and hurried. “Give them to me, please. Don’t make me watch them hurt you.”
I shake my head as my tears roll free. “I don’t want to watch them hurt you, either.” I can tell this interaction amuses Ivan as he sits back and watches us. I don’t know if he understands sign language, but Jagger’s body language and my responses make it clear what we’re saying.
“Please,” he signs again, and I can see the pleading in his eyes, but when I squeeze mine shut, I picture him being whipped again and shake my head. I can’t watch that again, especially knowing I could have taken that pain from him.
“I’m sorry,” I sign as his eyes turn alarmed. “We bear this pain together.” I turn my head to Ivan and tell him. “I’ll take them.” I try to hold my voice steady, but it trembles.
A growl comes from Jagger as he tries to lunge toward us, but the two guards push him to his knees and manage to keep him restrained there as Alexei moves me to the center of the room and tells me to kneel.