CHAPTER 1 #2
He reached out, and for a terrifying second, I thought he was going to hit me.
But his hand merely brushed my cheek, his masked fingers surprisingly gentle, before trailing down my jawline.
"We understand you have a certain... talent for restoration.
For uncovering hidden truths. Tell us what you know.
Tell us everything Liam Morozov saw. Tell us everything you saw.
And perhaps... perhaps your stay here will be more comfortable. "
My heart hammered, but my mind was clearer now, sharpened by the immediate danger.
They wanted to use me. To finish what Liam and I had started.
To unravel Volkov's network. But if I told them everything, I would be betraying Liam, betraying the very fragile trust that had grown between us.
Even if he was dead, I wouldn't do it. My stubborn streak, usually a source of irritation for Liam, now felt like a lifeline.
"I have nothing to tell you," I said, my voice gaining strength, my eyes meeting his unflinchingly. "And if I did, why would I tell you anything? You kidnapped me. You hurt Liam. You're animals."
A muscle in his jaw twitched, even beneath the mask.
The other man, standing silently by the door, shifted slightly.
"Animals? We are merely cleaning up Morozov's mess.
You think he was a good man, Rose? He was a monster.
A brutal, arrogant monster who inherited a poisoned crown.
Volkov simply accelerated the inevitable. "
"Liam might have been a monster," I retorted, surprising myself with the ferocity in my voice, "but he was my monster. And he would never have stooped to this. To kidnapping, to beating a woman."
The masked man scoffed. "He beat you plenty, didn't he?
We have reports of his... methods." His gaze dropped to my exposed shoulder, lingering on the bruises I knew were blooming there from the dragging, from Liam's recent rough handling.
A flush of heat spread over my skin, a mix of humiliation and a strange, perverse thrill that they knew how brutally Liam had claimed me.
"That was different," I hissed. "That was... ours."
He chuckled again, a sound devoid of mirth. "How romantic. Such a devoted little thing. It's a shame. You could have been useful." He straightened up, a dark silhouette against the meager light. "But devotion has its limits. And pain... pain has a way of making even the most loyal tongues loosen."
He turned to the other masked man. "Bring the tools."
My breath hitched. "What tools?"
The second man nodded silently, disappearing through the door. I could hear his heavy footsteps receding, then the faint clinking of metal. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through my defiance. They weren't just interrogating me. They were going to hurt me.
My eyes darted around the cell, desperate, searching for an exit, a weapon, anything. There was nothing. Just the bare, cold walls, and the looming figure of the masked man, watching me with an unnerving stillness.
"You won't get anything from me," I choked out, trying to sound brave, but my voice trembled, betraying me.
He took another step closer, until he was practically looming over me.
The metallic smell was overpowering now, mixed with something else, something vaguely sterile and sharp.
My skin crawled. "Oh, I think we will, Rose.
Morozov might be a ghost now, but his secrets aren't. And you, little rose, are the key to unlocking them.
You will tell us everything. Every last whisper.
Every last name. Or you will wish you had died with him. "
The thought of Liam, dead, spurred a fresh wave of defiant anger.
A furious, burning need to protect what he had, what he was, even if he was no longer here.
They thought they could break me? They thought they could use me against him?
They were wrong. They hadn't seen what Liam had done to me, the fires he had forged me in.
He had broken me down, yes, but he had also made me stronger. Harder.
"Fuck you," I spat, the words raw and laced with all the terror and fury swirling inside me. "I won't tell you a goddamn thing. Go to hell."
The masked man's head tilted. He didn't react immediately, just stared at me for a long moment, as if assessing the depth of my defiance. Then, a slow, predatory smile spread beneath his mask, visible in the cruel crinkle around his eyes.
"Very well," he murmured, his voice soft, almost regretful. "Then we begin."
The footsteps returned, heavier now. The second man re-entered the cell, carrying a small, dark leather case. The clinking sound was louder, more distinct. My eyes widened in horror. This wasn't just metal. This was a doctor’s bag. Or a torturer’s.
He set the case down on the grimy concrete floor with a soft thud. The masked leader knelt beside it, unzipping the case with a slow, deliberate movement. The sound was deafening in the small, silent room.
My heart hammered, a frantic drum against my ribs. My gaze dropped to the opened case, and a gasp tore from my throat. Gleaming surgical steel, glinting wickedly in the dim light. Needles. Syringes. Knives. Scalpels. All laid out with chilling precision.
"We have many ways of making people talk, Rose," the masked leader said, his voice a low, chilling whisper that promised unspeakable horrors. "And we have all the time in the world."
My body tensed, every muscle coiling for a fight, for an escape that I knew wouldn't come.
My eyes darted from the glittering instruments of torture to the unfeeling eyes of the man who would wield them.
Liam's image, pale and bloodied, flashed again, mixing with a terrifying new resolve.
He hadn't broken me. They wouldn't either. I would die before I betrayed him.
The masked man reached into the case, his fingers carefully selecting a long, thin needle. He held it up, letting the faint light catch its polished tip.
"Let's see just how strong you really are, moya roza."