44. Devina
My head throbs. My eyes are opening, but I can’t see. A dull light is in the distance, but blackness is all around. I can smell the ocean. The salt pricks my nose, making me aware of where I am. We have to be close to the docks. There is a body next to me.
It’s warm.
It’s heavy, draped over one of my legs.
I want to move, but my limbs are heavy and stale. My hands clasped together with plastic. I try to shift from under the weight and my hand grazes someone’s hair. Curly hair.
MaryClaire.
Trying to push her awake, she stirs and lets out a small moan. She’s alive. I conclude that I may not leave here alive, but I can’t take her with me to the other side. I have to fight.
Heavy footsteps echo as a large form blocks out the light for a moment before drawing near.
Stopping only feet away from me, he reaches up to pull the string hanging next to a bulb, illuminating the space around me. I squint to adjust my eyes.
MaryClaire’s eyes flutter open and our gazes meet and she pushes herself up to sit next to me against the wall behind us. She’s confused. Unaware of where she is.
Same, girl.
“Did my sleeping beauties have a nice rest?” Ivan asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. “You two will sell for higher than our usual merchandise,” He raises a brow.
“My husband will be coming for me and when he does he’ll fucking gut you.” I spit.
“Your husband is the least of my concerns. In fact, he’s not of any concern.” He licks his teeth. “Your brother, on the other hand, is someone I’m very interested in getting my hands on.”
“What did my brother ever do to you?” I ask trying to rack my brain to retrieve any recollection of this man with my brother.
“He took something from me. Cost me millions.” He straightens his back, peering down at us.
“Well if you are looking for payback, you picked the wrong girl. My brother doesn’t even know I’m here and I doubt that he’ll care.” The words hurt as I say them because they ring true.
He smirks.
“So you’re going to kill me?” I ask, wondering if he even knows I’m just as likely to die on my own before Declan or Ryder could ever find me.
“Oh no, princess. I’m going to sell you to the highest bidder.” My blood runs cold. “Your family has created a lot of enemies over the years. Enemies who would pay a great amount to take their turn breaking you.”
MaryClaire, who has been awake but silent, shifts against the wall, leaning closer to me. I reach for her hand and we sit marinating in the fear his words peppered over us.
“Try not to do anything stupid while we wait, princess. I won’t kill you., He places the gun he’s been holding in the back of his black slacks, “But I will make you wish you were dead. They don’t call me Ivan the Terrible for nothing.”
With that he turns on his heels and walks out of the room, slamming a metal door.
MaryClaire is the first to break. Her tears are warm as they fall on my arm. Cradling her head and petting her hair, I look around the room to find a different point of entry.
“How original,” I roll my eyes, “He had to use someone else’s nickname.”
“I’m so sorry Vi. I didn’t know he’d do this,” She says between sobs, “He is going to fucking sell us? What does that even mean?”
I knew what it meant, but MaryClaire wasn’t from our world. I hated the idea that her first introduction would be so cruel.
“It’s OK. We just have to do what he says for now. I know Ryder will come. He won’t let anything happen to us.”
I want so much for those words to be true, but doubt drips in.
* * *
Hours seem to pass but perhaps it’s just the endless dripping of a pipe that makes the time move at a glacial pace. We sit mostly in silence, aware of what is on the other side of the door. I’m convinced there is some kind of camera in this room allowing them to watch us. I saw no other men, but it would be foolish to believe Ivan was working alone. Men like him don’t do the dirty work themselves, they have people do it for them.
“If I don’t make it out of here,” MaryClaire breaks the silence, “I just want you to know you’re my best friend.” Her voice was void of emotion. She’s not herself. I doubt either of us will ever be again.
“I told you already. Ryder will be here soon,” I argue, “We are both getting out of here.” I pause before saying something I don’t want to say but have to be brave enough to mean, “If it comes down to me or you, I want you to run. You have to leave me.”
She shakes her head vigorously. “I could never leave you. And I know you would never leave me. We are going to get through this together.”
Her words are filled with determination and hope. Right now, I have neither. If I were here alone, I could handle this. But she’s right. I could never leave her.
The lock on the door clinks and the door swings open. A man I’ve never seen enters carrying a tray. He is silent as he walks to the table on the far wall and sets down a tray of food.
“How long are you planning on keeping us in here?” I ask.
Silence.
“Where are we?” I ask.
Silence.
I roll my eyes in frustration. He makes his way back to the door and gives me a look over his shoulder.
“You’d be wise to eat. He won’t let you out until you do.” His accent is thick and threatening.
Is he going to let us out? If he is that means he must be moving us to another location. He’s not letting us out to wander this ship – which is where I assume we are. The walls, metal. The door has a circular window about the size of my face.
I twist my wrists only to chafe my skin against the corner of the sharp plastic tie. Even if we get out of this room, I have no clue how to get out of here.
MaryClaire stands to retrieve our tray. Sitting back next to me, we rip apart the peanut butter sandwiches and cautiously eat.
“Wouldn’t it be a kick to the balls if I were allergic to peanuts?” I quip and see a smirk rise on her face.
“How can you possibly make jokes right now?” She asks.
“Easy, if I don’t, I might just die from anxiety. And since I can’t die and leave you alone in here, I have to voice the joke when it comes.” I announce.
“But you will leave,” she whispers, and I know her words have nothing to do with our current predicament.
Placing my sandwich back on the plate, I grab her hands in mine. “I’ll miss you so much. But my time isn’t up yet. Only I get to say when that happens and it’s not happening tonight.”
“Well, you don’t get a say,” she side-eyes me, “but I like your enthusiasm. What do you have in mind?”
Gazing down to MaryClaire’s signature pink pumps, I have an idea. She must read my mind. Her eyes shoot back up with anxiety.
“Oh no, they are my favorite.” She whines.
I have to bite back a laugh. That’s the MC I know and love.
There is only one way out of here and I’m not going down without a fight.