Chapter 8 – Freya
“Hello?”
“ Helloooo!”
“If anyone can hear me, you better tell your boss to get me the hell out of here!” I cupped my face in my hands, growled, and landed a kick to the door. “Freaking…. Shi— dammit !”
“ Ggrrr— God !”
There was nothing I hadn’t murmured under my breath or cursed out loud. And yet, no response seemed forthcoming. The more I pressed my ear to the door, the more deafening silence reechoed.
It was like I hollered and yelled into a vacuum just to have my own voice reverberate. I was caught up between frustration, annoyance, and tears. And I swore, I didn’t want to cry, but I felt choked up.
The walls of my chest constricted tightly, and I kicked the door again. The wood was hard, and the impact sunk back into my sneakers and to my toes.
My fingers curled, and I hissed sharply. “Son of a…!”
God, how had I ended up here?
Wouldn’t it be nice to act that part—the part of the oblivious detective who’d found herself stuck in a dark room with nice-smelling furniture and luxurious blue curtains that rustled with the softness of the summer breeze?
But playing that role was only bound to prolong the days of my captivity, whi ch was the total opposite of what I wanted—what I needed .
I needed to get out of here. Fast .
And I certainly knew how I’d gotten abducted. I wasn’t about to forget the daunting memory any time soon.
When I’d woken up with a start a while ago, everything came rushing back to me. Jogging back home from the gym, Ruby’s text, the compromised door, and finally, the most interesting part: having a gun shoved into my back.
Secretly, I hope that wherever that brute was, he was nursing a black eye just like I was.
I winced, partly limped back to the bed, and battled the urge to kick the foot of the bed frame.
Life was generally hard, and brewing up several escape plans was not an easy task, unlike how some movies made it seem.
I nibbled on my lip, contemplating ways I could disappear from the room.
The only thought that bounced back was the window.
Hm.
I considered it.
The window.
Thoughts sped through my mind.
Maybe I could climb my way out or jump, if I had to. Anything that would help me disappear was more than welcome.
I walked over to the velvety curtains. With a swipe, I parted it and felt my stomach sink because…before me was a view through the tall ceiling-to-floor panoramic windows that normally should have snatched my breath away.
It was dark outside: pitch-black night sky with nothing but city lights glimmering underneath the vast blanket. I could almost hear the sounds on the street, but then again, I couldn’t.
Because the windows are soundproof.
Sigh .
I was caged.
Wherever this was, it most definitely was not Los Angeles.
I stood in place, watching the lights from tall towers flicker, when I heard the door behind me creak open before shutting. I didn’t turn around. Couldn’t even dare to. But I knew it was him.
I could easily tell by his stealthy, majestic walk on the carpet, like a king lion, and the fresh and expensive scent, like a mix of raindrops on grass, a mildness of gushing spring, and musk—if that even made any sense. His steps were light on the rug, only stopping when his foreboding presence loomed behind me. We were both silent until he finally spoke, his words cold and cutting.
“You wanted to see Moscow. I granted your wish.”
The anchor in my stomach sunk even deeper, and my skin rose in gooseflesh. Trepidation and anxiety threatened to lurk.
I’d known we weren’t in LA but hadn’t expected to be almost twelve hours away from home. In Russia. Russia!
The urge to kick something returned, but I stayed planted on the spot because if I did kick something, I might get thrown into a place with fewer windows and expensive-looking furniture.
“Welcome to Moscow.”
His words floated behind me, and I saw his smug expression through the blurry reflection on the window.
Deeply, I inhaled, filling my lungs with as much air as possible. The uncertainty of the situation was slowly killing me. If he’d kidnapped me and was willing to bring me all the way here to his town, then his plans for me had nothing to do with talking over breakfast or visiting the Kremlin.
My fingers went through my hair, and I propped my hands on my hips. Because if I didn’t, I certainly would punch something.
Twisting around, I met cold green irises, not a sliver of emotion in them.
He was out of his hoodie situation and was back in his trademark attire—a crisp white dress shirt and a pair of designer pants.
The proximity between us made it more difficult to breathe. The hard lines of his jaw looked even harder when he stared down at me like I was nothing but a nuisance.
Anxiety reared its head, but I swallowed it down, shoving my intimidation below the surface.
Audaciously, I looked up, regardless of how far back my head had to tilt, owing to the ridiculous height difference between us.
I had to ask, “What do you plan on doing to me?”
Egor’s gaze darkened and dragged down from my eyes to my neck.
He raised his hand.
And I froze when the back of his fingers brushed my cheeks and curled around my neck, like a snake slowly ensnaring his victim. But there was no pressure.
He took a step closer and tilted his head to the side, silently assessing and interrogating me. “Take note: I ask the questions here. Where’s the evidence?”
His voice was as light as a cool evening breeze. I almost didn’t catch it, but I did and knew exactly what he was referring to. Feigning ignorance at this moment was not going to get me very far, but that didn’t warrant that I give an answer.
I stayed mute.
And he didn’t like that one bit.
His fingers curled tighter, and the pressure of his digits around my neck started to manifest.
“Allow me to rephrase,” his words tumbled in a dark, menacing growl. It took more than self-confidence to stand my ground. Fear rooted me to the spot. “What kind of evidence do you have against me, and how did you get it? I want all the details. And I want them now .”
My silence remained, and his grip tightened around my throat. My heartbeat accelerated. If I didn’t speak up, this man was going to kill me.
He’s going to kill me.
He seethed, hissing through clenched teeth, “You will not fucking make me repeat myself.”
His hand started to pulse around my neck, and I was on the tip of my toes now, with my hands on his, trying to pry them off, gasping for air.
I didn’t want to die.
“There is…” I choked, wheezed. “There is no evidence.”
“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me!” He shook me like he would a rag doll. “Where the fuck is it?”
Hot tears stung the back of my eyes. I could barely even breathe, but he didn’t give two flying cents if I passed out in his hands.
I slapped his arms.
He wouldn’t budge.
God….
“I swear.” A tear spilled on my cheek, and I sucked in what felt like a thread of oxygen. “I swear, there’s no…there is…no…no evidence. Please, I… . Let me go!”
If looks could burn, my ashes would have turned to powdered dust already.
“One last chance, Detective. ”
I heard my daddy’s voice resonate from memory, encouraging me to not give up, stand my ground, and fight back. He’d whispered into my ears, reassured me that nothing was over until I said it was. I was in charge. I got to say whether I was ready to incinerate or not.
I coughed and matched his glare with gritted teeth. “There is…no evidence, I swear it.” And there was really none. I’d intended to record the entire thing but forgotten to tap on the red button in the heat of the ongoing crime.
“Someone was at the house at the time when…when your uncle was murdered. It was…an eyewitness…who witnessed you killing your uncle.
He snarled, his grip loosening just a bit, “Who?”
I gasped like a fish extracted from the ocean, managing to wheeze out, “It was raining that night. You wore a pale blue shirt. The torrent was so heavy, I thought the power would go out.”
His brows wrinkled, and when realization set in, the corner of his eyes widened slightly.
“And…and your hair.” I took a long drag of air. “It was longer. Looked a lot like Jack’s…from the Titanic. ”
His grip loosened entirely, and I dropped to the balls of my feet, choking and wheezing with stinging tears in my eyes. Heaven knew how much I wanted to give this man a good whack on the head.
My eyes burned, and I wanted to scream, “ How dare you!” but held my tongue.
After I was sure I’d gained balance and had more oxygen and carbon dioxide going through my lungs, I glared at him hard enough to possibly cause internal damage.
If he thought I was done providing details, I was more than pleased to add the icing to the cake.
I massaged my neck and held his gaze. “You shot him twice. In the head.”
His eyes flashed like a wildfire, radiating a threatening heat.
He’d erased all harboring doubts and stared at me like he saw me peeking through the gap between the door two years ago. Like all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place.
“It was you.”
It wasn’t a question but a finality.
I nodded, like the mere thought should have scared him. “Yes. Me . I was there in your uncle’s house two years ago.”
“I’m sure you didn’t have a spare key. So, breaking and entering, it was. Wasn’t that illegal, Detective?”
I ignored his subtle attempt to wade off what was more important—the murder he committed.
“It was supposed to be a simple in and out,” I said. “Boris Yezhov, the ex- Pahkan of the feared Russian mafia, was not just a rumored name on the lips of many but secretly recognized as one of the most dangerous men in the United States. Since every other person turned out to be a wuss whenever his name was mentioned, I took the task upon myself to go there and find enough evidence to finally get him behind bars because, just like you, he had his way of sweeping his crimes under the carpet, and I wasn’t having it. I just didn’t expect to run into his nephew, aiming a gun at his head.”
That ticked him off again, and he stepped forward, his hand reaching for my throat again. This time around, he didn’t bother with the gentle caress on my cheek. He grabbed and squeezed, wringing all the air out of my lungs at once with one grip.
“Who else knows about this?”
I was on my toes again, fighting to stay conscious. My brain needed oxygen, and tiny stars hovered as my vision began to blur. The words wouldn’t even form properly. “I....”
I’m going to die, aren’t I?
Maybe this was how it was going to end for me: dying in the hands of a ruthless crime boss with no chance to defend myself. I wanted to cry and laugh at how ridiculous the situation was, at how I’d unexpectedly gotten wound up with the man who was definitely going to be my end. I wanted to call Ruby, or my mother, or maybe Zeya, to hear their voices one last....
“I need a fucking answer. Who else knows?”
I gurgled on my own saliva and choked back a sob. When the words stayed stuck and tied on my tongue, I tried to shake my head to give him a sign.
Thankfully, he got it and released his hold just enough to allow me to spit out the words, literally. “No one. No one, I…I swear.”
My breath intake was sharp.
His eyes bore into mine, searching and seeking for something satisfying. And when he was sure he’d found nothing, he finally let go. My knees gave way, unable to hold my weight any longer, and I dropped to the floor, crying and coughing until the walls of my throat seared like I’d swallowed acid.
He dropped to his haunches and brushed a teardrop off my cheek with his thumb.
The anger I felt roared to a different degree when I looked up at him. I wanted to spit on his face, scratch those green eyes out, and curse him. Curse the very womb that had conceived such a monster. But I held my tongue from wagging. It was only going to dig me into a deeper hole of trouble.
So, my shoulders trembled, and more angry tears rolled down my cheeks. I stifled a whimper and placed a hand on my chest—a futile attempt to stop it from heaving while I looked past the curving black ink peeking out from above the collar of his shirt and into his eyes.
Egor tilted his head, tucked unruly strands of my hair behind my ears, and angled my chin up so I gazed at him squarely. The corner of his lips crooked to the side, in the most wicked snarl I’d ever seen on a human.
“You made a big mistake messing with me, Detective . You never should have threatened me. You’re smart. You should have done your research. The terrestrial animals on the lower food chain all bow to the king of the jungle—the lion. And in the real world, it’s not that different. The middle class can only talk, but it's those in the seat of power that dictate how shit runs. Cats may be in the same family as the king, but the kitty never calls the shots. You didn’t know your place, and now you’ve crossed a line.”
He rose to his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets, his eyes going hard. “There’s no turning back. If you want to stay alive, you need to behave; do exactly what I tell you to do, how I tell you to do it, and when. One slip up, and that’s all it’ll take to have your head rolling.”
That wicked smile reappeared, and I had never seen a more menacing person.
“Do you want to know why?”
My breaths came out shaky and in puffs. And I almost hated myself for letting the angry tears fall.
He didn’t wait for a response.
“It’s because I own you now,” he said with his back turned to me.
He started walking away but stopped abruptly and turned around like he’d forgotten something.
When his eyes met mine, the satisfaction in them was unmistakable. “Oh, and if you try anything stupid, trust me, no power on or beyond the Earth will save you from what’s coming.”