Chapter 5 - Bardil
Day four.
Day four of living with my new 'house guest'. The feisty, sassy, cheeky, beautiful girl I kidnapped. In all honesty, it isn't even half as bad as I thought it would be. She's actually rather entertaining. Maybe I've been spending too much time alone. If I think time with an Abashin is entertaining.
But even when she's furious with me, I'm enjoying having her around. Often, I find myself pressing my lips together to hide an amused smile. Her fiery nature is captivating.
She's keeping me on my toes, too. It's a good thing. A person can get really bored out here at the cabin with nothing else to do.
Every morning and every afternoon, there is a new escape attempt. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her it's dangerous out there, she isn't listening.
"Again?" I muse, watching her trying to pick the lock on the back door.
She's got the sharp end of a screwdriver jammed into the keyhole, and she's aggressively stabbing it back and forth.
I should tell her there isn't a key for the door, only a hidden keypad that unlocks the bolt with a code. That keyhole is long obsolete.
"Go away," she snaps. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Nikita, we're literally in the middle of nowhere.
There is nothing but wilderness and swamp land around us.
A little rabbit like you won't last five minutes before an alligator or a bear finds you.
Is that the message you want on your gravestone?
" I taunt her, my arms folded across my chest as I lean on the doorframe leading out of the kitchen into the alcove she's crouched in.
She's still trying to pick the lock. It's a terrible effort.
She clearly has no idea what she's doing.
In fact, at this point, I reckon she's closer to breaking it than opening it.
She did manage to get out twice, though.
Once, by literally maneuvering a whole glass panel out of a window frame.
And once, because I was out in the garden and didn't close the door properly behind me.
I was just faster than her, so she didn't get off the property and into any dangerous areas.
I really don't feel like scraping up body parts from all over the woods after a wild animal mauls her.
Nikita is glaring at me. Her beautiful blue eyes are always intriguing and full of secrets. She's an Abashin. They aren't secrets. They're lies.
I smirk, cocking my head to the side. "Well, is it?" I ask.
"Is it what?" she huffs, annoyed at my intrusion.
"Is it what you want on your gravestone?"
She stops her angry glaring and scrunches her nose, pondering my question.
"Actually," she replies thoughtfully, "I think it's a unique and exciting way to leave this planet. People will be talking about it forever. Oh, that's the girl who got dragged to her death by an alligator. Everyone will think I was an adventurer. A brave explorer."
"Everyone will think you were a moron who didn't know how to take care of herself," I scoff.
This remark seems to upset her more than anything else I've said.
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!
" she snaps back at me. "Why does everyone think I'm not capable of keeping myself alive.
It's a basic human skill, and so far I've done a good job of it!
Dammit, people are so over-concerned about how I live my life.
You all need to learn to mind your own business!
" Clearly, she's talking about more than just me. Her brothers, maybe? Overprotective?
She thinks she's done a good job of keeping herself alive so far. That's funny.
I want to say, have you though? Considering she got kidnapped after stupidly sneaking out.
Instead, I raise my hands defensively. "Ok, ok, little rabbit. Calm down," I mutter.
Apparently, this is even worse than accusing her of being incapable.
"Calm down? Do I not look calm to you?" she growls, waving the screwdriver in my direction.
"Not really… No," I smirk, knowing I'm getting under her skin. For some reason, I like pissing her off. It brings me great satisfaction. It must be a small gesture toward the vengeance I so badly want against her family.
She marches toward me, brandishing the screwdriver like a weapon. "You have no idea how to treat a woman! You're bossy, and you make ridiculous assumptions, and you have zero respect… "
"You'll never get that lock open with a screwdriver, you know. Next time, you should try something thinner. More needle-like. A piece of wire or something," I say, grabbing her wrist and easily taking the tool from her hand.
She grumbles something I can't make out, then storms off in a huff, pushing past me angrily. Her scent wafts over me. Feminine and beautiful.
Shaking my head, I carry the screwdriver back to the little store room behind the kitchen. It's a pantry and a catch-all for the odds and ends that I need around here.
In the room, I find that she's built a ladder from chairs and boxes to drag my toolbox off a high shelf.
A chuckle escapes me and also annoys me.
I shouldn't find it so amusing. This isn't some lighthearted situation.
She is my prisoner, and I should probably be a lot more strict about her escape attempts.
What good is she to me if she's dead? Technically, I should lock her in her room and not even speak to her.
But I can't bring myself to do that. Like I said…
She's entertaining. This is purely to ease the boredom out here. That's all.
I'll just have to be more vigilant.
Another two days go by, and to my surprise, despite watching her every move, she's made no more attempts. But why would she go from regularly trying different ways to get away from me to nothing?
It's a trick. It has to be.
We're sitting in the living room, watching the sunset through the high glass windows.
She's ignoring me; her eyes are locked on the orange sky, silhouetted by the tree line.
It's really gorgeous out here. The sunsets over the city are beautiful, especially from the highest buildings and across the ocean.
But this is different. It's an entirely different energy.
We're in the wild. The sense of freedom becomes more intense when nature puts on these artistic displays.
Storms, sunsets, wild, rushing rivers. Whenever I witness these things, it reminds me how small I am.
How insignificant I am as a human being on a planet of chaos and unpredictability.
My eyes drift over her, wondering if she would understand these thoughts if I told her. I imagine she would. She's got that same fierceness in her that I have in me. She isn't fearful. She isn't timid or weak. She's actually really surprised me. It takes a lot for people to surprise me these days.
"Shall we get up early tomorrow morning and try another escape? Or were you maybe thinking late tonight after I've gone to bed. I don't mind. Either time works for me," I say casually.
She steals a quick look at me, her top lip curled into a sneer. She rolls her eyes and sighs loudly.
"I'm done with that," she huffs.
"What do you mean you're done with that?" I ask, confused.
Nikita shrugs and sets her half-eaten food on the coffee table. She turns to face me with both brows raised. "What is the point of wasting my time and energy on things I don't have control over? This whole situation is not in my control, and I'm no longer interested in playing your games."
"I don't understand," I muse, my brows furrowed.
"I'm clearly stuck here. And I've spent every day focused on one thing. Escaping. And it's been a waste of energy. So I quit. I'll just relax, do nothing. Wait it out. I don't know. I don't really care anymore."
I watch her for a long while, studying her expression and the piercing brightness of her eyes.
"Alright… " I say cautiously, knowing full well this is a trick to get me to drop my guard. I've already accepted that she will do and say anything to manipulate me. She proved that in the car on the way here.
"Alright," she sasses, almost sarcastically, as she turns back to the sunset and picks up her plate of food again.
***
Of course, I continue to keep a very close eye on her. But over the next few days, she doesn't make a single attempt to get away again. And me keeping an eye out for her escapes, turns into me just watching her. I become the voyeur as she goes about her daily routine in the cabin.
The more I watch her, the more she impresses me.
I expected to kidnap a Bratva princess. A helpless girl who doesn't know her left from right.
The princess part… Sure, I'll give her that.
She's beautiful, delicate, elegant, and packed full of attitude.
But she's also smart and far more capable than I would have given her credit for.
Her delicacy is in her beauty, not her attitude.
She clearly hasn't been pampered her whole life because she cooks—exceptionally well, I might add. She cleans, she does her own laundry. She keeps herself busy without needing external attention and validation all the time. She moves about quietly and never asks me for anything.
"What are you reading?" I ask, finding her lying curled up on the sofa in the living room.
"A book," she answers coolly.
I roll my eyes. "Can you ever just give me a straight answer?"
"Can you maybe let me go home?"
"No," I huff.
"Then my answer is also no," she sasses.
Shaking my head, I lean over the back of the sofa and grab the book from her hands.
"Hey, that's rude," she complains.
"An autobiography. Interesting," I mutter, handing the book back to her.
I enjoyed that book. It's about a man who got lost in the Everglades and survived for over three months out there alone with no gear at all. "Are you studying for your escape?" I ask.
"I already told you, I'm done with that," she says, not looking up from the page.