Chapter 23 - Bardil
My head pulses, and the muscles along the back of my neck spasm in pain. When I try to open my eyes, they burn, and I quickly squeeze them shut again. My head is so heavy I can't move it. The pain is indescribable.
I'm lying on a tarred road, fighting to remember how I got here. My cheek is pressed into the cold ground, and the worst headache I've ever had is throbbing inside my skull.
I try to move, and more pain shoots through me. Bruises. Tender flesh. Pulled muscles.
What happened?
An image flashes in my mind. Headlights. Broken glass.
A car crash! We were driving…
I remember the airbag…
"Nikita," I groan, my voice so dry her name comes out as a rasp.
"Nikita?" I say louder, wondering if I got thrown from the car in the crash. It would explain why I'm lying on the road. Rolling onto my side takes everything I have, but I need to get up. I need to find her and make sure she's ok.
"Nikita," I say again, a little louder than before.
"Wakie wakie, eggs and bakie," someone taunts.
What a fucking weird thing to say.
I groan again and push myself up off the ground. My arms shake at the effort of it. I try to reach up and touch my face. Tiny shards of glass are biting at my skin.
At some point, my hands meet resistance, and I realize I'm tied to a hook in the floor. Thick ropes are knotted around my wrists.
What the fuck?
It's not the road beneath me. It's a cold cement floor. I'm not even outside.
What the fuck is going on?
Blinking against the dim lights high overhead, a warehouse slowly comes into focus around me. They aren't street lamps. It's a ceiling.
I move so that I'm sitting up, my legs bent in front of me, and my back leaning against a cold corrugated wall.
"Where am I?" I mutter, looking around the warehouse, trying to see who is talking.
"Hello, hello. The great and all-powerful Bardil…
welcome to the party. It's been a while," the voice teases.
Whoever it is is standing just out of sight.
His voice is gratingly familiar, but my head is still spinning in pain.
I lean forward and push my hands against my face.
Focus, Bardil. Focus. Where are you? Where is Nikita?
"Where am I?" I demand with more force, slowly finding my strength as the confusion dissipates.
I've been kidnapped. That much is clear. That means the car crash wasn't an accident.
Now that I'm more alert, I'm trying to figure out where Nikita is. I don't see her here, and my heart is desperately hoping that they left her in the car. If they did, then someone would come and help her. Fuck. I hope so. I hope they were only after me.
A figure walks into the light with a cold smile spread across his face.
My heart constricts at the sight of him.
"Sokolov?" I growl. The man who betrayed me and tricked me into hosting an auction I thought was for weapons!
"In the flesh," he bows his chin.
"How did you find me?" I snarl.
"I admit, it wasn't easy. We've been hunting you down for a while. You bailed on the party and disappeared. You offended me, Bardil," he says, not sounding offended at all. I've come to understand that this man has no emotions. That he is a true psychopath.
I scoff. "You lied about how you planned to help me make money to pay you back. You never told me we'd be auctioning people!" I snarl.
"Tsk, tsk. Money is money," he shrugs.
"How did you find me, Alex?" I demand. Alex Sokolov is a dangerous man. Someone I should never have borrowed money from. I learned that the hard way. A stupid mistake that cost me more than I dare to admit.
He sighs and drags a chair across the floor. Its legs grate against the cement until he stops right in front of me and sits down, folding his arms and watching me with thoughtful contemplation.
"You know, I had to pull a lot of moves to cover my tracks and pin everything on you," he muses. "But luckily, that Abashin contacted me and gave me the perfect chance to side with them to hunt you down. Sure, it was temporary, but it was enough. Until you vanished."
"Is there no level you won't stoop to?" I grunt. "Do morals not exist in your world?"
He laughs. "Morals are for the weak. They are meaningless. People with morals get destroyed by people who are willing to do whatever it takes."
"No, Alex. Doing horrible things to get what you want is what destroys you," I argue.
His eyes flare. Anger clouds his expression.
"I want my money, Bardil. I want everything you owe me."
"Your money is blood money," I argue. "I owe you nothing after what you did."
"Oh, to the contrary. I've doubled your debt, and I plan to take it from you in any way I deem necessary," he muses.
My heart sinks. Please, please don't let them have Nikita.
At this point, the only thing I can do is distract him. The longer I keep his attention on me, the longer his attention isn't on her. And the more time I have to try and figure something out.
"So, how did you eventually find me?" I say, dropping my attitude and trying to sound more reasonable.
If he thinks I'm scared, he'll underestimate me. He's already arrogant enough to underestimate me, but whatever else I can do to help him along that assumption is in my favor.
"An old friend of a friend of a friend… someone you bumped into at a club. He saw you with your little girlfriend and tipped me off," he grins. "Apparently, you were very rude to him. People don't like it when you're rude to them, Bardil."
I clench my jaw, remembering the encounter with that guy Nikita knew.
But what is more concerning is him mentioning my little girlfriend.
He smiles at the look on my face, fully understanding what it means.
"Don't worry, she's safe here with us. We didn't leave her to bleed out in the car," he chuckles.
My stomach churns as nausea hits me. They have her. She's here somewhere. Fuck.
This knowledge seals my urgency to escape. I have zero other options. Saving her is the only thing that matters. Even if it costs me my life.
Sokolov stands, stretching his arms above his head in a lazy cat-like manner. He acts as though he's bored. It's a habit he's always had, and it drove me crazy from the moment I first met him. When will I learn to trust my gut about people?
I knew from the beginning that this man was bad news.
It was your own arrogance that tricked you into thinking you were clever enough to handle him.
The truth is that he loaned me that money knowing I wouldn't be able to pay it back. He did it as a power move. He played me. He thought I'd run to my brother, and my debt would become my family's debt.
It has nothing to do with cash and everything to do with control.
Alex sighs softly, his eyes drifting over me with disinterest.
"Listen, I have a late dinner meeting that I have to attend, but when I get back, you and I and your sweet little bitch are going to play a little game," he says.
"Don't you dare fucking touch her, Sokolov," I growl.
"Oh, I'm going to touch her. I'm going to make her sing.
And maybe when I'm done with her, she'll still be in good enough shape to sell.
She's rather pretty. I imagine she might even be worth enough to cover your debt.
" He pauses, cocking his head to the side.
"Although I did double it… " he muses. "I might need to consider selling your sister, too. "
I watch Sokolov walk away, and all I can think is that I want to rip the skin off his face.
Thank fuck he has a meeting. I need time. I need to calm down and focus.
I need to get the fuck out of these restraints and find Nikita.
Sokolov mutters something to the guard standing in the dark nearby. One man. Armed.
"If he moves, shoot him," he says. "The other guys are busy on the floor. If you need help, shout and they'll come."
"I don't need help, he's one man," the guard huffs.
Sokolov grabs his jaw and digs his fingers into the man's face. "Don't fucking argue with me. Just do as you're told," he snarls.
The guard nods and pulls his face away. He looks belittled and angry. Embarrassed. This is how Sokolov treats everyone who works for him. Like I said. He's a true psychopath, through and through.
"I won't be long, Bardil," Sokolov calls out before leaving.
As soon as he's gone, I'm on high alert, searching everywhere for anything.
The guard is already over this. He looks like he's worked four double shifts and is a walking zombie. Too tired to register anything. Too pissed off and rebellious to do as he's told.
"Hey man, can I get a glass of water?" I ask.
"Fuck off," the man snaps, turning his back to me.
I smirk. That's lucky. One thing in my favor.
Quietly, I work at the ropes, shifting my wrists, maneuvering them to loosen the knots. Patiently, I count each breath, push the ropes, pull, shift. As long as I'm quiet and calm, the guard won't turn around and look at me.
It takes almost ten minutes to get the ropes off, and the only reason I manage it is that I've trained for situations like this. And unsurprisingly, they used a generic common knot to restrain me. They should have known better.
I stand up without breathing. I don't dare make a single sound.
I move in silence. One step. Two.
When I'm right behind him, I let out a sharp breath, and before he has a chance to turn and look at me, I snap his neck. His body drops like dead weight.
I catch his lifeless corpse before it can slap against the ground. Instead of letting him drop, I lower him quietly and then grab his gun.
Find her. Get out of here.
That's the only thing that matters.
Except that after I've quietly searched every inch of the warehouse, I realize that they've taken her to a different location. Nikita isn't here. She's being held somewhere else, and I have no fucking idea where that might be.
The panic is agonizing.
The thought of losing her… the idea of anything happening to her… it almost breaks me.
In this moment, the truth sinks deeper into my soul than ever before.
It's the pain that brings clarity. In that white, blinding panic, I see things for what they are.
I can't live without her.
I don't care about my pride or my ego. I don't care about defending myself against her family or mine. I don't care if I have to grovel and beg and plead to ask them to let me be with her. She is the only thing that matters. She is everything.
I fucking love her.
I was so fucking stupid I wouldn't even admit it to myself.
I fucking love her, and she's been taken.
I shove everything aside and run to the small office I saw earlier. There are a number of guards patrolling the place, so I need to be careful. I'll be no good to her if they catch me.
Ducking below the desk, I pull the office phone down onto my lap and dial a number I thought I would never in my life need to dial.
It rings, and my stomach churns.
"Who is this?" Matvei snaps.
"Bardil. Don't hang up."
He sighs.
"On the way home, we were attacked. Sokolov took me to his warehouse, and he has Nikita somewhere, too. I can't find her. They have her locked up in a different location," I whisper in harsh, clipped urgency.
"Where are you?" he growls, instantly understanding that this is no game.
"I recognize the place. It's a warehouse near the docks. By the corner on the west side. There's a giant red crane right outside the window here."
"Where is my sister?" he demands.
"I don't know, man. Please. I need your help. I need everyone. I have to find her. Please, just work with me on this."
For the first time in my life, I have something to fight for. Something real. Something that belongs to me. Something apart from my family.
I have someone who chose me over everything and everyone else.
Even over her own family.
I wait tensely for Matvei to say something, and while I wait, feeling like he's taking an eternity, my heart constricts with anger toward myself. She loves me. She was trying to show me. She loves me, and it isn't a game or a trick, and I was too stupid to believe it.
"Alright, I've messaged everyone. We're on our way," Matvei finally says.
A heavy weight lifts off my chest. "Thank you," I whisper.
"Keep your head down," he huffs, then hangs up.