Chapter 4 – Serena
I woke to the soft golden glow streaming through lace curtains, the kind that looked like they’d been crocheted by hand decades ago. This was not the luxury hotel on Bourbon Street. I moved, body stiff and groggy. My senses tried to process my surroundings, but it just wasn’t computing.
With a groan, I rolled over. I was hungry, dehydrated, and my face...hurt. Gingerly, I touched the skin of my cheek, only to find a bandage covering the area.
The nightmare came back in a rush.
A slow examination of the rest of my body showed aches and discomfort, but no real pain. It seemed as though I hadn’t been shot. Thank the Holy Mother for small favors.
With a big inhale, I pushed up. The air smelled faintly of lavender and cedarwood, with a mineral, earthy undertone.
The delicate blend instantly soothed me even as I blinked in confusion.
The bed I’d been sleeping in creaked softly as I shifted, the thick quilt slipping off my legs.
It was stitched together with patches of faded blue and navy fabric, and its weight had kept me surprisingly warm.
Where the hell am I?
Despite the lack of décor, the simple room was impossibly quaint, like something plucked from the pages of a fairytale.
The walls were made of uneven, whitewashed stucco, with beams crossing the ceiling that looked like they’d been hand-hewn centuries ago.
A small, round window framed by the lace curtains revealed a view of tropical flowers outside—vivid purples, yellows, and whites swaying in the gentle breeze.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and let my bare feet touch the cool, wooden floor.
It was smooth but worn, with scuffs and scratches that spoke of countless footsteps over the years.
A rug lay near the center of the room, its colors faded but its intricate pattern still charming—a mix of deep reds and earthy browns.
What magical kingdom had I stepped into? I pinched my arm, telling myself I wasn’t still asleep. Not that the smashed skin on my face needed proof that my body was alive.
The furniture looked like it had been carved by someone who truly loved their craft.
A small wooden table stood against one wall, its surface adorned with a simple ceramic vase holding dried herbs.
Beside it was a rocking chair draped with a knitted throw that had begun to unravel at one corner.
The chair swayed slightly, as if someone had just risen from it moments before.
Frowning, I looked quickly to the door, a chill skating down my spine.
The sense of being watched lingered. This was so different from the last time I was kidnapped.
A decade ago, I had been a girl, and a stupid stunt got me in trouble.
This? This could be equally bad. However, something in my gut told me I wasn’t in any physical danger here.
I hadn’t been tied to the bed; my hands weren’t cuffed.
The doors weren’t locked, and this building was too clean to emit a creepy ambiance.
I might still have been that stupid girl, blinded by my surroundings, but I chose to listen to my instinct.
Be brave.
I wandered from the room. The scent of aged wood and dried herbs greeted me in the hall.
A bathroom was to the right, and a closed door was in front of me.
Nature chose that moment to scream at me, so I tiptoed into the bathroom.
As I took care of business, I continued to study this strange place.
While there were no homey touches, no knickknacks in here either, there was a clean, rustic order to the bathroom.
One toothbrush sat in the holder. The soap was a bar and smelled of lavender.
But the products in the small cabinet behind the mirror were all masculine.
I didn’t bother looking at the mess reflecting in the mirror.
Someone patched me up, so it was unlikely they were going to kill me.
Remember your alias.
Squaring my shoulders, I left the space.
There was a living room and kitchen at the front of the house.
I wandered through them, taking in the homey yet sparse details.
There were two high-back chairs in the living room before a cold fireplace.
Running my fingers over a tall mantel with ornate carvings of flowers and vines, I fell instantly in love with this home.
It was exactly like a cottage from some childhood story.
I couldn’t feel uncomfortable here if I tried.
It took a second glance to realize there was no television.
On a nearby shelf sat a collection of books with cracked leather spines, their titles faded into obscurity, but no less intriguing for it.
Beyond that was a desk with a laptop closed on the surface.
Proof that I was indeed in the modern era.
A door banged in the kitchen.
I spun around, ready to meet my savior. “Hello? I’m in here!”
A young man in a graphic tee appeared in—and nearly filled—the doorway. “You’re awake.”
He didn’t seem threatening. It wasn’t the fact that we were probably close to the same age that put me at ease. The way he hesitantly smiled was friendly. There was no malice reflected in his face, and no threat hovering over him like a dark cloud. This was a genuinely sunny soul.
“I am, thank you,” I smiled. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”
The man seemed suddenly flustered. “Wait right here.”
Before I could react, he disappeared into the kitchen. There was banging about, cupboards opened and closed, but I swore I heard the man whisper—and a second voice responded.
That same delicious chill swept over my skin.
I took a step forward, pulled toward the sensation.
Before I could peek and confirm he wasn’t alone, the young man reappeared. “Here you go, Serena.”
Blinking at the frosted glass cup with a blue rim, I croaked a thank you.
Obeying the urgent tug, I began to guzzle the water.
The cool, wetness slid down my throat. The cracks and raw places screamed in protest, but the hydration was imperative to chase away the lingering fog from the drugs, pain, and sleep.
The moment it was drained, my brain registered a detail, and my stomach flipped. This man knew my name.
I handed him back the glass. “Where am I?”
“I can’t tell you that.” His apologetic look wasn’t comforting.
The alarm bells that rang in my mind pealed louder.
“Okay, can you tell me your name?” I pressed, trying to keep calm.
He stiffened at my commanding tone. “Iosif.”
“And how, Iosif, did you know my name?”
“You told my friend.”
At the mention of another, impossibly blue eyes filled my mind.
“This is his home.” Iosif shifted again. “He requested that you stay here until you’re recovered. You can have whatever you’d like from the kitchen, but please stay indoors this evening.”
“I want to meet him,” I insisted.
“You will.”
Not good enough. “Why does it feel like you’re keeping me prisoner?”
The first hint of danger darkened his grin. “We just want to take care of you, Serena.”
My instinct was correct. I was in a den of monsters. Iosif rattled off a few more instructions, commanding me again to stay indoors, before he left. I tiptoed after him, but the kitchen was empty as he pushed through the door. When it closed, my heart shuddered.
***
A path had formed along the edge of the rug, visible evidence of the anxiety that had driven me to pace relentlessly back and forth for the past half hour.
If I were the type to bite my nails during moments of tension, my fingers would undoubtedly be raw and bleeding by now, gnawed down to the quick by my own nervous habit.
Instead, I was left with the dull ache of anticipation and the persistent urge to keep moving, as if doing so might somehow bring clarity or resolution to the situation.
Don’t go outdoors, the man had said.
Not only did it make me want to venture outside just to defy him, but it sent my imagination running wild.
I didn’t know where I was, though I doubted I was still in Louisiana.
I could be anywhere. Right now, I seemed safe.
But for how long? It would be better to make my escape while they thought I was resting and recovering from my injuries.
I crept to the window, pulling back the lace.
The rhythmic rush, roar, and crash was softer on this side of the house.
Whatever was out there, some machine judging by the steady beat, spiked my curiosity as to what kind of place this was.
There was no telling what challenges waited for me out there, trying to stop my departure.
I didn’t dare leave until the sun set, but what dangers would the dark bring?
The sun retreated behind the line of trees. Soon, the powerful rays would dim.
And then, I had to make a run for it.
Not only did I have to escape this place for my own sake, but if I was going to resume my travels, I had to make contact with the hotel in New Orleans for my things and touch base with my brothers.
If I didn’t contact them soon, they would start looking for me.
And that would end my once in a lifetime vacation.
I no doubt already missed the mandatory check-ins, but I could pass that off as having been drunk or sick from food poisoning.
But if I remained silent, Sandro would come for me. He would ruin everything.
I’m not going back.
My clever little sister-in-law won me this trip, careful to avoid including an end date. This was my chance at freedom. The world was mine to explore, and I would find a place in it.
“I am never going back to that cage,” I murmured.
Crossing the living room, my fingers curled around the handle of the front door.
I gave the thing a tug. The door was firmly secured to the frame, with multiple areas where it was tightly sealed.
Each point of contact seemed to cling stubbornly, resisting any attempt to budge it.
It was as if the door had been pressed into place with deliberate force, ensuring that it remained immovable and steadfast, refusing to yield even the slightest bit.
I tugged again. With a shudder, it ripped free.
Ancient hinges groaned in protest as the thick slab swung open.
The rush of humid evening air hit my face, bringing with it a tang and something else—an earthy, wild scent that I couldn’t place. It seemed salty, which made no sense. I stepped over the threshold, my heart pounding. Freedom beckoned just a few steps away.
My feet seemed to move of their own accord, drawn to the promise of the darkness.
Out here, the rhythmic, machine-like drone was clearer now.
I still couldn’t place the sound. What manner of industry required a crash like that?
It was on repeat, slow and methodical. Maybe it wasn’t man-made at all, but something natural.
But that was an even stranger possibility.
Internally, I was torn between discovering the source of the noise and escaping.
The farther I traversed, the more insistent the sound became.
A surge of curiosity filled me. Sneaking a quick glance before I left wouldn’t do any harm.
That was the whole point of this grand adventure.
This urge for freedom was driven by my deep-seated desire for new experiences.
I took a few steps to the left, cautiously approaching the tree line.
The increased volume told me the source of the strange sound was just there, right beyond the trees.
A sharp crack split the air. I froze, every muscle tensing. It came again—a distinct snapping sound, like a branch breaking underfoot. My eyes darted to the tree line where darkness pooled between the trunks.
“Hello?” I whispered, then immediately regretted making any sound at all.
A shadow darted from the trees, abrupt and fast, then vanished again into the murk.
I flinched, my mind racing. Was it only my imagination, or had something really been there?
It moved so quickly! Something or someone had been hiding and was now on the move, tracking my every step.
I squinted into the darkness, bracing myself for what might emerge.
At least I was prepared for the worst now.
Maybe I should have listened to the man.
Swallowing hard, I weighed my options. Should I make a run for it?
If I stayed and was caught, I might not ever have another chance to escape.
Should I risk my freedom just to ease my mind, or was it reckless to carry on into the night?
Another movement amongst the trees decided for me.
I spun around and darted back for the safety of the cottage.
My heartbeat was a staccato fortissimo! I dove past the door, slamming it shut behind me.
There was no lock.
Leaning against the hard piece of wood, I tried and failed to catch my breath. Iosif told me to stay inside. He was right. Who the hell was I kidding?! I wasn’t a mobster; I’d had no experience dealing with situations like this.
But I wasn’t that scared fifteen-year-old who’d nearly been done in by thugs. I was grown up, I’d learned lessons. I would survive this too.
When I was certain I hadn’t been followed, I peeled myself off the door and trudged to a chair. The cushions let out a whoosh as I sank into their embrace.
What I knew with absolute certainty was that I’d been kidnapped and then rescued. My host allowed me to seek shelter here. Until I figured out where the hell I was, there didn’t seem any harm in staying put.
The steady roar, rush, and crash called through the window.
I wet my lips, tasting the faintest hint of salt.
What a strange place. The longer I listened, the more the sound seemed to transform into a melody.
Lulled by the steady beat, I tucked my legs under me and let my mind quiet. No, it wasn’t so bad here after all.