Chapter 8
Zoya
Dato’s smile only grows wider when he sees me standing motionless in the doorway. He gestures with the gun as if it’s a natural extension of his hand, his movements casual and completely unbothered by the weapon’s weight.
“Zoya,” he says, his voice light. “Come in. We were just talking about you.”
The man on the floor hasn’t moved since I arrived, and the remains of the apple are scattered around him in wet, pulpy pieces that soak into the hardwood floor.
He’s crying without making a sound, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his sobs while he waits for whatever Dato is going to do next.
I step into the room to escape the exposure of the open hallway, though the air inside the office is so thick and heavy that taking a full breath feels like a struggle.
“Sit,” Dato commands, pointing toward a chair near the fireplace. “Meet my brother, Stanislav.”
The younger man sits up straighter at the introduction.
The family resemblance is immediately obvious in his dark hair and sharp features, though he lacks the predatory edge that defines Dato.
He looks barely twenty years old, and when our eyes meet for a split second, he looks away as if he can’t bear the sight of me.
“He’s been so worried about you,” Dato continues in that same cheerful tone, never wavering for a second. “In fact, I think he believes I’ve been treating you poorly. Why don’t you come here so you can tell him straight that you’re being treated well?”
I stay exactly where I am, my hands clenched at my sides to hide any potential trembling as I stare back at him. Dato doesn’t seem to mind my silence. He simply leans back and watches me with an expectant look.
“I haven’t forced you to do anything, have I?” Dato asks, his eyes dark with mischief. “In fact, I’ve been a gentleman. Good food. A nice room. Stimulating conversation. Tell him.”
The man on the floor lets out a small, broken whimper that makes the guards shift behind me, and I realize I can’t stay silent forever. I walk closer to where Dato sits and stop a few feet away.
“He hasn’t hurt me,” I say. The words feel hollow and wrong as they leave my mouth.
Dato beams and turns to his brother. “See? She’s fine. Happy, even. So why the concern, little brother? Why the constant questions about our guest?”
Stanislav’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “I just think this is dangerous.”
“You think what?” Dato prompts.
“I think keeping her here and using her as bait is a mistake,” Stanislav says, the words coming out rushed as if he has been holding them back for days. “Romanov isn’t going to negotiate, Dato. He’s going to come here and kill everyone.”
“Let him try,” Dato replies, his voice dropping as he stands up. The mood in the room darkens instantly.
Dato walks toward his brother, the gun still dangling loosely from his fingers as he stops directly in front of him. He reaches out and grips Stanislav’s chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.
“Are you perhaps in love with her?” Dato asks, his voice coming out in a deceptively soft murmur.
Stanislav’s face flushes a deep, burning red, and he tries to pull away. “What? No. I…”
“I mean, I see the appeal,” Dato interrupts, glancing back at me while his eyes travel down my body with a slow, lazy appreciation. “She’s pretty. Spirited. She is exactly the kind of woman who makes men do stupid things.”
He turns back to his brother, his grip tightening slightly. “But surely you don’t think you have a chance with her.”
“I’m not in love with her,” Stanislav snaps, finally jerking his chin free while his cheeks continue to burn. “I’ve only seen her around the house for a few days. I just don’t like seeing women kept as captives in your twisted games. That’s all.”
The room falls into a heavy silence. Dato stares at him for a long moment before he suddenly laughs, a sharp, brittle sound that seems to bounce off the stone walls.
“Oh, little brother,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “That soft heart of yours is going to get you killed.”
Without another word, Dato raises the gun. I brace myself, my heart hammering against my ribs, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of flinching when the shot cracks through the room like thunder.
The man on the floor shrieks and clutches his head, but there’s no blood. Dato has simply obliterated the last remains of the apple sitting inches from the man’s face.
“See?” Dato smiles at Stanislav while the man at his feet sobs in terror. “Steady hands. Just like I said.”
He ignores the sobbing man and leans in closer to Stanislav, his voice dropping to a whisper that still carries across the room.
“That softness is what got our older brother killed. You think Romanov is civilized because he wears expensive suits and runs legitimate businesses? Even our father was scared to cross that beast, and our father feared nothing.”
Stanislav says nothing, his face turning pale as he stares at the floor.
“But me?” Dato spreads his arms wide, the gun catching the firelight. “I have leverage. I have his woman. They say beasts can be tamed, little brother, and I am the beast tamer.”
He points the gun at me as casually as if he’s pointing a finger.
“She is the meat.”
My stomach turns to ice, but I keep my expression as blank as I can manage.
“Now,” Dato says, his bright, empty smile returning. “Run along, sweetheart. I don’t want to bore you with the education of my little brother while we discuss family matters.”
Dato sits at the head of the table, swirling the wine in his glass as he watches the candlelight reflect in the dark liquid. Stanislav is nowhere to be seen.
“Just us tonight,” Dato says, gesturing for me to take the seat beside him. “My brother has decided he needs time to think. Apparently, my educational methods don’t agree with him.”
I sit down and keep my hands in my lap, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re quiet,” he notes, pouring wine into my glass without asking. “No clever comments? No sarcastic observations about my hospitality?”
“I’m tired,” I reply.
“Tired,” he repeats the word as if he’s tasting it. “Yes, I suppose you would be. Captivity is exhausting, isn’t it? All that waiting and wondering if someone will come to save you.”
I remain silent, staring at the table.
“He’s not coming, you know,” Dato says, leaning closer until I can smell the wine on his breath.
“I’ve had people watching his movements.
Romanov left the country three days ago for business in Ukraine.
It’s an interesting timing, don’t you think?
His precious journalist gets kidnapped, and he flies off to another country entirely. ”
“Maybe he doesn’t know,” I say, the words feeling thin.
“Or maybe he doesn’t care,” Dato counters with a shrug. “Either way, the result is the same. You’re here, and he is not. Every day that passes without a rescue attempt tells me exactly what your value is to him.”
He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I force myself to sit perfectly still, refusing to flinch.
“Don’t worry, though,” he whispers, his fingers lingering on my jaw. “I find you valuable, Zoya. Very valuable indeed.”
He smiles and leans back, the tension in the air finally breaking just enough for me to breathe.
“Eat,” he commands, gesturing to the food. “You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, I’ll make a phone call,” he says, picking up his knife and cutting into his steak with surgical precision. “I let certain people know that I have something they might want. And then we see if the beast finally comes out of his den.”