Chapter Two
Chiara
T amana steps out of her heels the second we step through the door, her face scrunching up as she looks down at herself.
“Why the hell would someone do such a thing? I can’t believe I’m the only one who got splashed!”
I stifle a laugh, shutting the door behind us as I lock it before turning back to look at her.
I slip my own heels off as I bend down, rubbing my sore feet.
“Consider it an early shower, Mana.”
I say, thinking back to what happened only a few minutes ago, with a car deliberately speeding too close to a puddle, eager to get us both wet.
The look she sends me makes me laugh out loud.
“I’m going to take a shower.” She says, groaning as she looks down at her dress again. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”
I nod my head at her—she already knows where everything is—and then she’s off.
I hear the door click, and the faint rush of water as she starts the shower.
Standing back up, I walk towards my sofa as I take a seat, stretching my legs along the length of it. I yawn, pressing my hand to my mouth, as I unlock my phone to send Dario a quick message.
CHIARA: We’re home now. Today was fun :)
Hitting send, I leave my phone on my coffee table as I shut my eyes, sighing softly.
I’m exhausted.
Packing in the day, and partying in the night.
Who would have thought?
I’m able to relax for a few moments, and then I hear it.
It’s a faint sound, low and muffled.
A thud.
My eyes snap open as my heart lurches in my chest. Sitting up straighter, I glance towards the hallway, but my front door is still locked. The shower is still running, but I know the sound didn’t come from there. The sound I heard had been much deeper, heavier too.
“Tamana?”
I call out, my voice a little shaky.
There’s no reply, and I know it’s because she probably can’t hear me from the bathroom.
I swallow hard, feeling my heart beat faster as I glance all around the room. Everything looks the same—all the doors are locked and bolted exactly how we left them—but the sound remains in my mind, sending all sorts of thoughts rushing through my head.
As I reach for my phone, I glance at the screen. Dario hasn’t replied to me yet. I take some deep breaths as I debate whether to call him or not, but ultimately decide not to after checking the time.
Maybe I’ve just heard something from outside.
That’s the only reasonable thing I can think of.
Still, I feel uneasy. I finally stand up from the sofa, all of my nerves frazzled, as I make my way towards my front door. I test the handle, and let out a deep sigh of relief when I find that the door is still locked.
I check all the rooms in this place, and although my flat isn’t that big, every small step feels like a massive journey now.
I can’t find anything in any of these rooms.
Nothing in my kitchen.
Nothing in my bedroom.
Nothing in my hallway.
There’s absolutely nothing.
Shaking my head, I rub at the tension in the back of my neck.
“You’re being ridiculous.” I mutter to myself. “Completely and utterly ridiculous.”
Just as I’m about to head back to my living room, I hear it again.
Another thud.
This one is louder.
My chest feels tight as I gasp, turning around, noticing the way the curtains are fluttering with the window cracked open, exactly how I left it. Wind blows through, chilling me to my core. I step closer to the window, peering out cautiously.
Nothing.
Closing it, I rub a hand over my face, forcing myself to breathe.
But I can’t.
And my chest feels tighter than ever now.
I head back to the living room, hearing the shower still running as I sink into the sofa, clutching my phone in my hand as I desperately hope my brother will reply to my message. If he does, I’ll have an excuse to call him, and I’ll make something up so he can come over.
Dario will take care of this; I know he will.
Suddenly, Tamana steps into the room, and I just about stop myself from screaming bloody murder when I spot her standing at the front of the flat in only a towel.
“That shower was great!” She says, flashing me a grin. When she sees the look on my face, her face drops. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I force a smile as I shake my head at her.
“No ghosts, Mana. I’m just tired.”
Though she does raise an eyebrow at me, she doesn’t press me for anything else.
She turns around as she heads on towards my bedroom to change, and I tell her to give me a shout once she’s ready to sleep.
As the flat becomes quiet again, I can’t help but look back at the window, feeling my stomach tighten with nerves.
Something feels wrong—I just don’t know what.
Releasing a shaky breath, I try to push the unease away, but the tension in my chest only seems to grow. I try to shake it off, try to convince myself that it’s nothing, but I can’t.
Something. Is. Wrong .
Finally, my phone buzzes in my hand, and I jolt. The vibration of the notification sends adrenaline rushing through me, and I glance down at the screen, reading my brother’s name, as my thumb hovers over to click on the notification.
But before I can, I feel something cold and hard press against the back of my neck.
I freeze.
Every single nerve in my body locks up, the shape of the item unmistakable.
A gun.
My breathing hitches, my throat becoming tight as my phone slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud. I hear footsteps behind me, measured and deliberate, as the gun is pressed harder against my body.
I feel like I’m going to pass out.
There’s another set of footsteps, and the sound makes my head jerk. I gasp when I realise there’s a figure there, and as he steps into view, his presence dominates the room.
The man is tall, easily broad, and is dressed in black from head-to-toe.
A black jacket stretches across his muscular build, and his shoes thud against the floor as he moves, each step purposeful.
At first, I think his face is hidden by the shadows at the edge of this room, but I soon realise that he has a balaclava on, concealing his entire face except for his eyes; pale, sharp, and as cold as ice.
They lock with mine, and I feel him stripping me bare with just a single look.
I can’t breathe.
My chest tightens, and my lungs fail me.
As he crouches low in front of me, he plucks my phone off from the floor, barely tipping his head back to look at me.
Gloved fingers glide across my screen as he studies the notification, then he places it down on the coffee table, looking at the person standing behind me with a gun pressed to my neck.
My stomach flips.
“Her brother has sent a message.”
He says, his voice low and smooth, an accent I recognise as Russian falling from his lips.
I feel tears pricking the back of my eyes.
The person standing behind me shifts, and the barrel of the gun digs deeper into my neck. I feel my breathing becoming uneven, becoming shallow.
“She’s a smart girl.”
The person—the man—standing behind me says.
He breathes out a laugh, and then all attention is back to the man who’s crouched in front of me.
“Stay quiet.” He says in a sharp tone. “It’ll be easier for all of us that way.”
My body refuses to move, frozen in place as his words settle over me.
They are going to kidnap me.
I can’t breathe.
Eyes filled with tears, I try to process what’s happening, to figure out who these men are, and why they’re here.
They. Are. Going. To. Kidnap. Me.
All I can do is sit on my backside, trembling, as the man’s piercing eyes stare into mine, stripping away any sense of control I once thought I had.
Papa moved us all the way here to England so we would all be safe, but now…
“She’s not moving.” The man behind me grits out. “Tell her to move before it’s too late.”
The man in front of me leans in closer, his chest touching my knees, and his eyes boring into mine as my stomach flips.
“If you don’t move now,” he says, his voice a low, measured threat. “That girl in the other room will die.”
My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I stop breathing entirely.
I feel my lungs burn with the need to breathe, but I can’t inhale, nor can I exhale. His awful words echo all around my head, becoming louder and louder until they drown out every other single thought.
Tamana.
One of my closest friends, the girl I now consider my sister. Her smiles, and her laughter. The way she always keeps me happy, always excited to show me around the city, and how she’s so ambitious and brave.
I blink rapidly, feeling fat drops of tears rolling down my cheeks.
I want to scream—want to do as my brother and father have always told me to do—but I can’t.
I can’t make any noise, and I can’t waste their time.
But if I do, then maybe Dario will realise that something is wrong, and maybe he’ll come bursting through my door with Papa hot on his heels.
They both said they would protect me, always, and I know that it’s true.
But the thought of Tamana being harmed…
Her life is in my hands, and if I do anything reckless—she’s gone.
I can’t be the reason behind another person’s death…another person’s murder.
A broken sound escapes me, part sob, part whimper, as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Okay.” I whisper, my voice trembling as my hands begin to shake too. “Okay, I’ll move.”
The man crouched low in front of me looks behind me, and the man holding the gun at my back releases a pleased hum, the sound of it rumbling deep as though my surrender is everything he’s wanted to hear.
“Good girl.” He says, his voice curling all around the words like smoke. “Let’s get moving now.”
My stomach twists as I clench my hands into fists in my lap.
Standing back up to his full length, the man in front of me rises, reaching into his pocket. When he pulls away, my chest tightens as I see the strip of fabric between his fingers, and I already know what’s coming next.
“No!”
It’s a cry, a plea, but it’s barely audible, and it makes no difference.
He doesn't care to hear me.
Wrapping the blindfold over my eyes, he thrusts me into darkness, forcing more sobs to leave me. The world closes in around me, and all I can focus on is the sound of my own ragged breathing, and the soft scuffle of their movements.
Something cold snaps around my wrists, and I flinch as I realise that handcuffs are being locked into place.
As soon as they’re on, the man behind me moves, his hand coming up to cover my mouth.
His palm feels rough against the soft skin of my face, and his grip is firm as he forces his hand even tighter around me, trying to stop me from breathing altogether.
I jerk against him, becoming desperate to be able to breathe properly, but he doesn’t care.
“Shush.”
The man behind me murmurs quietly, his voice filled with dark amusement.
As quickly as his hand is moved away, something replaces it, silencing me completely. It’s invasive, and it cuts off any chance of being able to call for help.
A gag, I realise, as my tongue is forced further into my mouth, bile rising in my throat as the urge to throw up only grows.
My mind spirals into a panic, and my breathing is short and choppy, my chest feeling tight.
Hands grip my shoulders and neck, forcing me down onto the ground as my knees hit the floor. The trembling becomes worse, tears hot as they slip down my cheeks, my mind spinning with the realisation of what’s about to happen to me.
Then suddenly, a sharp pain.
A prick felt at the side of my neck.
Slowly, the world tilts, even in my state of total darkness, as my entire body becomes heavy, my limbs unresponsive.
My body sways, and my heart rate picks up.
Something in my vision changes, and then—pure darkness.
It swallows me whole, taking me under, before I can even think another coherent thought.