Chapter 25 #2
The casual mention of torture and murder makes me tremble.
He’s luring Iskander into a trap where Mikhail can kill him and Timur while I watch.
Every word he utters is manipulation designed to keep me compliant while he orchestrates my lover’s death.
He’ll never let me leave alive. He already said that when he denied me the water.
“He’ll never come alone.” I try to project confidence I don’t feel. “You’ll be outnumbered and outgunned before you get close enough to hurt him.”
“Perhaps, but even Iskander Taranov can’t assault a fortified position without risking the hostage he’s trying to rescue.” He returns to his chair with evident satisfaction. “Desperation makes people take chances they’d normally avoid.”
The tactical reality of my situation becomes clearer with each passing minute. I’m not just a hostage but bait designed to force Iskander into making emotional decisions instead of strategic ones. Every protective instinct he has will work against him when he tries to reach me.
Pain builds behind my temples as stress and anxiety spike my blood pressure higher than Dr. Layton would consider safe. I try to focus on breathing exercises and calming thoughts, but terror for Iskander’s safety makes relaxation impossible.
“You’re in pain.” Mikhail observes my discomfort with clinical interest. “Headache?”
I don’t answer, but he seems to interpret my silence correctly.
“High blood pressure is common during multiple pregnancies, especially under stress, according to Google.” His knowledge of pregnancy complications makes my skin crawl. “Alina mentioned you might have complications.”
The question reveals another layer of violation I hadn’t considered. My private conversations with Dr. Layton and my fears about carrying seven babies safely were all potentially compromised by someone I trusted with my most vulnerable moments. “What else did she tell you?”
“Everything I needed to know about your schedules, your fears, and your relationship struggles.” He studies my face for reactions. “She mentioned the doctor’s warnings about stress reduction.”
The casual mention of my private medical information feels like another form of assault. Nothing about my life was truly private while Alina lived in our home and gathered intelligence about our daily routines.
“The irony is delicious.” He continues with evident pleasure. “While you begged your lover to prioritize your relationship over business obligations, I was learning exactly how to use that relationship against him.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what? Stop telling you the truth about how completely you’ve been betrayed?” His voice hardens with satisfaction. “Or stop explaining how your lover’s feelings for you will finally give me the revenge I’ve been seeking?”
My ribs ache from tension and the uncomfortable chair, coupled with lack of water, while the headache behind my temples builds to something approaching agony.
Every minute in this basement increases the risk to my babies, but fighting against restraints or giving in to panic will only make things worse.
I close my eyes and try to find some internal anchor point or source of strength that doesn’t depend on external circumstances I can’t control.
The envelope in my hands reminds me Iskander and I created something beautiful together that’s worth surviving for.
I have seven reasons to stay strong and refuse to give Mikhail the satisfaction of watching me break down under pressure.
When I open my eyes again, he’s watching me closely, probably trying to assess whether his psychological warfare is achieving the desired effect. “You’re stronger than I expected.” His tone carries grudging respect. “Most people would be begging by now.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No, you’re not.” He stands and moves toward the stairs. “I’ll leave you to think about our conversation. When your lover arrives, remember cooperation saves lives while defiance costs them.”
The basement door closes with a heavy thud that echoes off concrete walls, leaving me alone with dim lighting and the sound of my own breathing.
Each hour stretches endlessly while I wait for sounds of approaching rescue or approaching doom, knowing no amount of cooperation will satisfy Mikhail.
He wants to utterly destroy Iskander before killing him, so the babies and I will be among the first fatalities if my lover is captured by him.
The envelope with gender results remains clutched in my bound hands, a tangible reminder of the future Iskander and I are fighting to protect. Whatever happens in the hours ahead, our children deserve the chance to be born.
I settle back into the uncomfortable chair and concentrate on breathing and relaxing to lower my blood pressure. Mikhail can control my circumstances, but he can’t control my will to protect the family Iskander and I have created together.
The darkness presses closer as daylight fades outside the basement window, but I refuse to let despair take root.
Somewhere in the distance, the man I love is coming for us, and I intend to be strong enough to help him succeed in us all walking out of here except Mikhail and his men.
For the first time, I understand how Iskander can kill someone.
Rage burns inside me, though I try to soothe it to avoid sudden hypertension, but I would hesitate to shoot, strangle, or stab him if I had the opportunity.
I give a bitter smile. One unintended consequence of Mikhail’s kidnapping us is it gives me better insight to how Iskander can be both dark and light, carrying hate while showing powerful love. In an odd twist of fate, this will probably bring us closer, assuming we all survive.