Chapter 30Claire
30
Claire
T he chill seeps into my bones as I huddle on the cement bench of my damp cell. Stone walls loom around me, their rough surface mocking any hope of escape. Rusted bars block the only exit. My stomach twists with fear, but I cling to one thought—Valerian. He’ll come for me. He always finds a way.
My mind wanders as fear settles into a constant state that saps my energy. A random thought occurs to me. How did Matvey’s men infiltrate “Eastern State Penitentiary,” a historic site turned tourist attraction? Bribed the guards, no doubt. Corruption at every level. It’s just another example of Matvey Petrov’s reach extending farther than I ever imagined.
The thought terrifies me, but it also ignites a spark of defiance. I won’t go down without a fight. I can’t with four tiny lives depending on me now.
I force myself to stand, ignoring the wave of nausea that washes over me. My hands instinctively move to my still-flat stomach. “We’ll get out of this,” I whisper to my unborn children. “Your dad will find us.”
A scraping sound echoes down the corridor. Footsteps approach, and I press myself against the wall, heart pounding. The rusty hinges of the cell door creak open. I expect it to be Matvey, but his man, Gavriil, saunters in, his eyes glinting with malice. My pulse skyrockets once more as I press myself against the cold stone wall, desperately searching for an escape route that doesn’t exist.
His lips curl into a cruel smile. “Looks like Matvey’s little prize is awake.”
I clench my fists, willing my voice not to shake. “What do you want?”
He chuckles, the sound grating against my nerves. “Just a little taste.” Gavriil takes a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the tiny cell. “Matvey might be persuaded to let you live if you make yourself useful.”
The proposition in his tone turns my stomach. I swallow hard, gagging on nothing. There’s no way out and no backup coming. It’s just me against this hulking brute. “I’d rather die,” I spit out, summoning every ounce of defiance I can muster.
His eyes narrow. “That can be arranged.” He lunges forward, reaching for me with meaty hands. Adrenaline surges through my veins again, and I react on pure instinct. I drive my knee upward, connecting solidly with his stomach. Gavriil’s breath leaves him in a pained whoosh.
Not wasting a second, I shove him with all my strength. He stumbles backward, cracking his head against the rusted sink with a sickening thud. His eyes roll back, and he crumples to the floor in a heap.
For a moment, I stand frozen, hardly daring to breathe. I see his chest rise and fall, so the bastard didn’t have the courtesy to die. When he doesn’t move, I spring into action. My fingers tremble while searching his pockets, finally closing around a set of keys. My cell is currently unlocked, but I might need the keys to access other doors for my escape.
The cell door squeals as I push it open, wincing at the noise. I pause, listening for any sign the sound has alerted others. Nothing but eerie silence greets me.
Pulse hammering, I slip into the corridor. The abandoned prison stretches before me as a maze of crumbling concrete and rusted metal. I pick a direction at random and start moving, trying to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible. The air is thick, and the stench of decay is inescapable. I fight the urge to gag and realize they must have me in an unused section of the prison. The tourists would never accept this kind of stench when visiting and paying money to see it.
Every junction presents a new decision, and a new opportunity to get hopelessly lost. Left or right? Up or down? Each choice feels like it could be the difference between freedom and capture... or worse.
A distant sound echoes through the corridors. Voices? Footsteps? I can’t tell, but panic claws at my throat. I duck into an alcove, pressing myself against the wall and willing myself to become invisible.
The noise fades, and I let out a shaky breath, but as I step back into the hallway, I have to accept I’m lost. I’ve toured this place once on a high school trip, but we were never in this section.
The labyrinthine prison has swallowed me whole, and I have no idea how to find my way out. Despair threatens to overwhelm me, but I push it down. I can’t give up when there are four tiny lives depending on me. I cup my stomach. “We’re going to get out of here,” I whisper, as much to reassure myself as the babies I’m carrying. “Somehow.”
I force myself to keep moving, ignoring the burning in my legs and the dryness in my throat. Every shadow makes me flinch, while every distant sound makes my heartbeat skitter. I press on, clinging to the hope that the next turn, or the next corridor, will lead me to freedom.
All too soon, I realize I’m being tracked. Gavriil’s voice booms through the decaying halls, and each word drips with malice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, little mouse.”
My palms are damp when I press myself into a shadowy alcove. The rough stone scrapes my back through my thin shirt while I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my ragged breathing.
“You can’t hide forever,” he calls, his heavy footsteps coming closer. “When I find you, I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born.”
I squeeze my eyelids shut, willing myself to become invisible. My legs tremble, muscles screaming from the constant running and hiding. How long have I been trapped in this labyrinth of crumbling concrete and rusted metal? Hours? Days? Time has lost all meaning.
A rat scurries across my foot, and I bite back a scream. The creature pauses, beady eyes glinting in the dim light before it disappears into a crack in the wall. If only I could follow it to freedom.
Gavriil’s footsteps stop abruptly. “I know you’re close. I can smell your perfume, and your fear.”
I brush my fingers against my stomach in a protective gesture for the tiny lives growing inside me. The thought of my unborn children gives me a surge of determination. I have to survive this. For them.
I peek around the corner, catching a glimpse of Gavriil’s massive form at the end of the corridor. His back is to me, head swiveling while he searches for any sign of movement. It’s now or never.
Taking a deep breath, I dart from my hiding spot, bare feet silent on the cold floor. My shoes are long gone, perhaps left in the van. I just notice it for the first time, and awareness brings a nagging ache from the chill and stinging in some places. I must have stepped on…something.
I make it halfway down the hall before Gavriil spins around. “There you are, you little bitch.”
He lunges forward with surprising speed for such a large man. I dodge to the side, but my foot catches on a piece of debris. I stumble, crashing to the ground. Pain explodes through my palms and knees as they scrape against the rough concrete, irritating the existing injuries.
Gavriil’s meaty hand closes around my ankle, yanking me backward. “Thought you could outsmart me?” He drags me across the floor. “I’m going to enjoy making you scream.”
I kick out wildly, connecting my heel with his nose. There’s a satisfying crunch, and Gavriil howls in pain. His grip loosens just enough for me to wrench free.
Scrambling to my feet, I sprint down the corridor, ignoring the burning in my lungs. I round a corner, nearly colliding with a rusted metal gate. My fingers fumble with the latch, desperation lending me strength as I force it open.
Behind me, Gavriil’s enraged roar echoes off the walls. “I’m going to kill you!”
The words make me tremble. This isn’t about taking me back or using me for his pleasure anymore. He means it. He sounds enraged enough to kill me. I push through the gate, slamming it shut behind me. The latch catches with a metallic click that sounds far too flimsy to hold back the force of his rage.
The corridor stretches endlessly before me, branching off into a maze of smaller passageways. Which way? Left or right? Each choice could lead to freedom or a dead end.
Gavriil’s thunderous footsteps grow closer. I pick a direction at random and run. My lungs burn, and a stitch forms in my side. I can’t keep this up much longer.
Just as I’m about to collapse, a figure steps out from a side passage. My heart leaps into my throat until I recognize Boris, Matvey’s right-hand man. Maybe I’m prematurely relieved, but I’m glad to see anyone else, even if he is another of Matvey’s men.
“Boris,” I manage to say his name before gasping for air. It takes several deep breaths before I can speak again. “Please, you have to help me. Gavriil’s gone crazy. He’s trying to kill me.”
Boris’s face remains impassive, but his gaze flicks to something behind me. Before I can turn, a meaty arm wraps around my waist, lifting me off my feet.
“Got you,” Gavriil hisses in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
I thrash in his grip, kicking and clawing. “Let me go.”
“Enough.” Boris’s sharp command cuts through the air like a whip crack.
Gavriil freezes, his arm still locked around me. I feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against my back.
Boris steps closer, his cold gaze sweeping over us. “What is the meaning of this?”
“The little bitch tried to escape. I was just bringing her back.”
“By chasing her through half the prison?” Boris raises an eyebrow. “That wasn’t part of the plan, and you had no business being in her cell in the first place.” He glares at his comrade. “You were tasked with ensuring she has food and water, and nothing more.”
Gavriil’s grip tightens, and I wince. He sounds sulky when he replies. “She needs to be taught a lesson.”
“And who gave you that authority?” Boris’s voice is dangerously soft. “Matvey was very clear about how the girl was to be treated.”
A tense silence falls over the corridor. I hold my breath, hardly daring to move.
Finally, Gavriil releases me with a grunt of disgust. I stumble forward, putting as much distance between us as I can.
Boris turns to me, his expression unreadable. “Are you injured?”
I shake my head, not trusting my voice. I have minor injuries, but I doubt he’d care.
“Good.” He reaches into my pocket and pulls out the set of keys I’d stolen from Gavriil earlier. They jingle with each step I take. “These don’t belong to you.” He glares at Gavriil. “Or you now.”
The other man’s face contorts with rage. “You can’t be serious? She tried to escape.”
“And you disobeyed direct orders,” Boris counters coolly. “Matvey won’t tolerate an undisciplined soldier. Your emotions have compromised you, Gavriil. You’ve lost the privilege of controlling our guest.”
“Guest?” Gavriil spits the word like a curse. “She’s nothing but leverage against Rostova.”
Boris’s eyes narrow. “She’s whatever Matvey says she is, and right now, she’s off-limits to you.” He turns back to me as he puts the keys in his pocket. “Come. I’ll escort you back to your cell myself.”
I hesitate, glancing between Boris and Gavriil.
“Now, Miss Bennett,” says Boris, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone.
Taking a deep breath, I step toward him. As we pass Gavriil, he grabs my arm. “I’ll still get you.”
Boris’s hand clamps down on Gavriil’s wrist, applying pressure until he releases me with a grimace of pain.
“You’ll stay away from her,” he says, his voice like ice. “Unless you’d like to explain to Matvey why you’re disregarding his orders?”
Gavriil’s jaw clenches, but he backs down, glaring daggers at both of us.
As Boris leads me away, the keys jingle in his pocket, a reminder that my fate is still very much in the hands of Matvey Petrov and his men.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to quell the trembling in my limbs. The adrenaline is fading, leaving me exhausted and aching. Beneath the fear and fatigue, a small spark of hope flickers to life. I’m still alive, and as long as I’m breathing, there’s a chance I’ll find a way out of this nightmare.
Boris’s grip on my arm is firm but not painful as he guides me back through the complicated corridors of Eastern State Penitentiary. My bare feet pad silently on the cold concrete. We turn a corner, and I recognize the hallway leading to my cell. My heart sinks as the reality of my situation crashes over me once again. So close to escape yet still trapped.
He pulls out the keys he took from me earlier, the jingling sound mocking my failed attempt at freedom. He starts to unlock the cell door, but Gavriil clearly left it unlocked when he rushed after me. The rusty hinges groan in protest when he swings it open. “In you go, Miss Bennett,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.
I step inside, wrapping my arms around myself as he closes and locks the door behind me. The click of the lock sliding into place echoes with a sense of finality.
Boris lingers for a moment, his cold eyes studying me through the bars. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for a while.”
“Until when?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.
A humorless smile tugs at Boris’s lips. “Until Matvey decides otherwise.”
With that, he turns and walks away, his footsteps fading into the distance until I’m left alone with nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing.
I sink onto the cement bench, wincing as the hardness digs into my back. The cell is exactly as I left it, a cramped space with peeling paint, a rusted sink, and a toilet I’m not entirely sure works. The single barred window high on the wall offers a tantalizing glimpse of the outside world, but it’s far too small for escape.
My hands sting, and I look down to see them scraped and dirty from my desperate flight through the prison. My feet sting too, so I hobble over to the sink, unsurprised to find it doesn’t work. Someone put out a bottle of hand sanitizer, but I skip that for now, not wanting the scrapes to hurt even more.
Slumping against the wall, I press a hand to my stomach in a protective gesture that’s becoming second nature. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to the tiny lives growing inside me. “I tried.”
Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I can’t afford to break down when there’s still hope. “We’re going to get out of here,” I whisper. “I don’t know how yet, but we will, and when we do...” I trail off, thinking of Valerian. He’s coming for me. I know it with every fiber of my being. “When your father gets here,” I continue, my voice growing stronger, “We’ll make sure this is the last place Matvey Petrov ever hides.”
The words hang in the air, a vow and a threat rolled into one. I’m not the same woman I was when I first met Valerian. I’ve changed and grown stronger. I stand up, ignoring the ache in my muscles, and begin to pace the small space. I analyze every detail of my surroundings. There has to be something I’ve missed, or some weakness I can exploit.
The window catches my attention again. It’s too small for me to fit through, but maybe I could use it to signal for help somehow. I drag the rickety metal bed frame beneath it, wincing at the scraping sound it makes against the concrete floor.
Standing on tiptoe on the bed, I can just reach the bottom of the window. My fingers brush against the cool metal bars, testing their strength. They’re old and rusted, but still solid. I try to peer out, but the angle is awkward, and all I can see is a patch of gray sky.
A sudden wave of dizziness washes over me, and I grip the windowsill to steady myself. The lack of food and water, combined with the stress of the past few hours, is taking its toll. I carefully climb down from the bed, my legs shaky.
I sink back onto the ratty mattress, frustration bubbling up inside me. I’m trapped, exhausted, and completely at Matvey’s mercy. The enormity of my situation threatens to overwhelm me. “No,” I say aloud, my voice echoing in the small space. “I can’t give up.”
I force myself to take deep breaths, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest. As my heartbeat steadies, I try to channel Valerian’s calm, calculating demeanor. What would he do in this situation? I may be locked in here, but my mind is free to strategize.
A noise in the corridor snaps me back to the present. Footsteps approach, accompanied by the jingle of keys. I tense, preparing myself for whatever—or whoever—is coming. The cell door creaks open, and a figure steps inside. It’s not Boris or Gavriil, but a woman I haven’t seen before. She’s tall and willowy, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that seem to see right through me.
“Claire Bennett,” she says, her accent thick and distinctly Eastern European. “I’m Dr. Ivanova. I’m here to check on you and confirm your...condition.”
I eye her warily, not moving from my spot on the bed. “My condition?”
Dr. Ivanova’s lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Your pregnancy, of course. Matvey wants to ensure his leverage remains in good health…and exists.”
The casual way she refers to my unborn children as “leverage” makes my blood boil. I clench my fists, fighting the urge to lash out.
“I don’t need a check-up,” I say, my voice cold. “I’m fine.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter,” Dr. Ivanova replies, setting down a medical bag I hadn’t noticed before. “Now, shall we begin?” She pulls out a pregnancy test. “You can take this, or I can order some men to hold you down while I draw blood.”
As she approaches, I reluctantly take the box and brace myself for whatever comes next. Each moment is an opportunity, I remind myself. Stay calm, stay alert, and look for openings. Valerian is coming, and when he does, Matvey Petrov will learn the true meaning of fear.