Chapter 3
ADRIANNE
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
That steady sound in the distance filled the small silences between the yelling.
“Na Zdorovie!”
They were celebrating, that much I knew.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the voices, counting the different tones as I tried to figure out how many men had orchestrated my demise. Or maybe I was just trying to distract myself from the place I’d woken up in.
I was trapped in what looked like hell’s waiting room. A limbo of unknown where the only certainty was danger, dangling over my head like a carrot I didn’t want to follow.
The abandoned train car stretched maybe thirty feet in either direction. Its windows were either boarded up or so grimy that they let no light in, even if the tunnel had enough to spare.
Rust stained every inch from the walls to the floor. Even the air tasted metallic, while that damn water kept on dripping somewhere in the darkness.
The cold seeped through everything.
Skin, bones, and soul.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to conserve what little warmth I had left, but it was useless.
The metal walls of the carriage seemed to radiate cold, and every breath I took felt like ice crystals forming in my lungs.
My teeth chattered, and try as I might, there was no way to control them.
It was more than just the cold, and I knew it. Fear. Panic. Restlessness. All of it trying to leave my body any way it could. But that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
What was left of my white dress clung to my skin like a second layer of misery, reminding me of how quickly the tables can turn.
The fabric that had been soft, pristine silk just hours ago, was now damp and filthy, stained with God knows what from the grimy floor of this abandoned train car I’d been thrown in.
The elegant beading along the neckline had torn away during the struggle, leaving loose threads that scratched against my neck.
And to think I was worried about that small berry stain. It was almost hilarious in its irony.
“Na Zdorovie!” They repeated that damn word, again and again, mocking the fear that coursed through me with their happiness. The empty tunnel carried the sound of their glee as if they were sitting right next to me, and for the first time ever, I was happy to have woken up alone.
They’d been drinking for hours, their celebrations getting louder and more raucous as the night progressed.
I pressed my back against the wall again, hoping the cold surface would keep me alert as I tried to think of a way to get out of here. But fear and tiredness kept clouding my thoughts like a thick fog that wouldn’t lift.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The voices somewhere down the tunnel grew quieter, and all I could hear was that damn water again.
My body was shutting down from shock and cold, and the aftermath of that adrenaline rush.
My eyelids felt heavy, and despite every instinct screaming at me to stay awake, I couldn’t keep my eyes from shutting.
Footsteps crunching the gravel between the tracks caught my attention. An eerie whistle, tuning a song that sounded like doom coming closer.
The only light that shimmered through the car took this exact moment to falter, and I was in the dark before I saw who was so determined to get here.
I would run if I had somewhere to go. Instead, I crawled further against the wall, almost fusing myself with the metal.
Right then, a brutally strong hand tugged on my arm, pulling me to my feet and dragging me away from the wall I’d pressed myself against.
“You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you, Kukla?” Doll. His breath smelled like stale vodka and nicotine. Probably a couple days of not brushing his teeth.
The light returned, revealing one of the men who’d taken me from the reception, and I couldn’t hold the gasp that left my mouth without permission. It was the same man who’d pointed a gun to my head and forced me to comply. The one I sank my teeth into while trying to escape.
“Please,” I begged, my voice trembling with fear, “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Of course not, moya kukla. my doll. We’re going to have a good time. I’m gonna make you feel good, da?” yes? He reached between my legs, trying to harshly cup me there while his other hand remained clamped around my arm, squeezing so tight that I was wincing. “You like this, don’t you?”
Whatever strength I had left came to the surface right then as I kneed him in the balls and yanked my arm free in a sudden move before I ran towards the other end of the old train.
I didn’t manage to go too far, though. The huge monster caught up to me in a couple of strides, pulling my hair like a leash and tearing a scream from my chest.
I cried out as I fell to the dirty floor, his huge frame immediately covering mine and pinning me in place. Panic seeped into my lungs as I started to scream, but his hand quickly came to cover my mouth, muffling my calls for help.
“Oh, you’re a runner?” He taunted in amusement, like this wasn’t the most vile thing a human being could do to another.
“I’d love to hunt you down, Kukla. But we don’t have time for games today.
Let me tear that pussy to shreds, and you can go back to curling in the corner like a good little bitch. ”
“No! Stop. Please stop.” I tried pleading again, yelling at the top of my lungs while tears sprang from my eyes like a waterfall. “HELP!” I screamed as loudly as I could, yet the volume died against the calloused skin of his hand.
It was hard to breathe, and soon I’d pass out trying.
I had never felt this kind of fear before in my life.
Not when my mother was dying and I didn’t know how I’d pay for her medications. Not when I’d been evicted from our house with nowhere to go. Not even when I’d realized I was completely alone in the world.
This was different. This was the kind of fear that froze your bones and gripped your heart so tightly that you thought it might be squeezed to a halt.
The kind that sang to your darkest fears.
“You’re never going home, never going to see another sunrise, never going to have the chance to figure out what your life was supposed to be. ”
As he tugged on his belt, he forced my head to the side, my eyes landing on a pair of orbs so disturbing and yet so calming.
The man stood in the doorway watching us. His eyes connected with mine for an intense moment that seemed to last forever.
Realization hit as he merely stood there. He wasn’t here to save me.
Just as a breath of helplessness left my lungs at the realization, a gunshot rang out, echoing through the space. The dead weight of my attacker crushed me, making it hard to breathe.
I had no idea how I managed, but I pushed him off me before scurrying as far away as I could from the man with the still-smoking gun.
“Please,” I begged in a small voice.
He was massive. At least six-three, maybe taller, with shoulders broad enough to fill the train’s entrance completely. Every inch of him screamed danger, from the perfect cut of his expensive suit to the way he held himself with predatory calmness, even after killing a man.
His hair was black as midnight, slightly messed up from the tunnel's humidity, falling across his forehead in a way that should have softened his features, but somehow made him look more menacing instead. Like darkness incarnate wearing a thousand-dollar suit.
But it was his eyes that made my blood freeze.
Ice blue. So pale they were almost white, like winter frost or the color of a frozen lake right before it cracked. They stared at me with such cold calculation that I wondered if he’d ever felt a moment of warmth or joy in his entire life.
Those eyes swept over me, taking inventory as I shook in fear.
My torn dress, the dirt and blood on my skin, the way I cowered against the wall like a wounded animal. There was no pity in his gaze. No sympathy. No remorse for killing a man in cold blood.
His stare landed on my right thigh. My unfinished chrysalis tattoo was visible through the ripped fabric, and I noticed something flickering across his face. Disgust, maybe. Or disappointment. Like I was a mere knockoff when he’d been expecting designer.
“Babochka,” butterfly, he murmured in a voice just as cold as those unwavering eyes. Deep and rough, just as an insult would be delivered. I had no idea what he’d said, yet somehow the single word felt accusatory.
He took a step towards me, and I couldn’t help the strings of pleas for my life or the uncontrollable shaking that took over my body.
“Please, sir. Please.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” He said, and while the words were reassuring, I couldn’t find myself to believe them. “Look at me.” It was a command, but I held my head down while I remained folded into myself. “Look at me!”
That deep bass rattled the windows, and I could feel his massive frame towering over me before he grabbed my jaw and pulled me to stand in front of him. His height was intimidating before, but up close? It was more than overbearing.
“Open your eyes,” He barked into my face, shaking my jaw to force me to comply.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and finally faced him. There was danger and menace written all over his face. As if he’d seen so much destruction that it was imprinted in his skin. There were no wrinkles around his eyes, and I knew right then that this man hadn’t smiled a day in his life.
“Who are you?”
“What?” How could he not know who I am? I hadn’t seen his face before, but those eyes were memorable enough for me to know he was the man sitting in the car wearing a balaclava.
“What’s your name?”
“Adrianne Smith.” I hated how weak my voice sounded, but there was no masking the terror that ran through every inch of me.
“Fuck!” He roared, releasing me from his hold.
The tattoos on his knuckles caught the dim light as he adjusted his cufflinks in an almost rehearsed manner before dipping his hand into his jacket and pulling out his phone.