Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Daisy
"Daisy."
I blinked my eyes open, blearily staring down at the pale face cradled in my lap, and without thinking, I reached down to smooth my fingers through his knotted hair. "Hey." I forced myself to smile. "You should sleep some more; it’s not morning yet."
Alec continued to stare at me, his eyes round and terrified. "I’m thirsty," he croaked, and my fingers stilled. Of course he was. I was thirsty as well. Not that I mattered.
Just him.
"Okay, I’ll get you some water." Slowly, I placed his little frame on the filthy mattress and went to look for the water bottle they had left us with when we had arrived here. How many days ago had that been?
I couldn’t be sure, but I knew at least two mornings had gone by because I had seen the orange glow of the sun streaking through the boarded-up windows.
It might have been more. We slept a lot. Or at least Alec did. I tried to, but my body just wouldn’t let me rest. No matter how exhausted I was.
On my hands and knees, I searched the darkened floor, almost knocking over the bucket that had been thrown at us for us to relieve ourselves in. Wrinkling my nose at the smell, I finally found the water bottle and crawled back towards my son.
Holding him on my lap, I helped him take a sip and then another.
"Easy. We have to drink slowly." I hated that I had to ration his water, but there wasn’t much left, and I wasn’t sure they would bring us another bottle. It wasn’t like they had brought us food since we had arrived.
"You have some." He pushed the bottle towards me. Instead of taking the drink my body was begging for, I screwed the cap back on with a slight shake of my head.
"I’m fine," I lied. "Not thirsty at all."
Alec looked at me from beneath his eyelashes. "I’m scared, Mama." His bottom lip began to tremble. Not once since we had been brought here had he cried. He had been brave, telling me he would protect us both and looking just like his father the entire time, but that bravado broke now.
God, I hated the look on his tiny face. It wasn’t just fear. It was abject terror, and there wasn’t much I could do to make him feel more at ease.
Instead, I did the only thing I could think of: I wrapped him in my arms, rocking him back and forth and whispering a lullaby into his ear.
"It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay," I lied when he continued to sob. "I’m going to protect you. Daisy will—"
"I’m sorry I called you Mama," he hiccuped into my shirt, soaking it with his tears.
For a second, I couldn’t say anything. I just held him tighter. "You can call me Mama," I said finally. "It makes me very happy when you do."
Wasn’t that the truth. My heart kind of felt lighter just for a second when he slipped up and called me that. It was only for a moment before the weight of our situation came crashing back down, but it was a second of happiness in this crappy time.
"You are my mama, aren’t you?" he whispered.
Bending over him, I pressed my lips to his matted hair. "I am your mama," I admitted, and tears prickled my eyes, forcing me to blink them away so they slid silently down my cheeks to wet the top of his head.
"I knew you were," he whispered. "That first day I saw you. Papa had a picture in his drawer at home. Sometimes I caught him looking at it."
I held my breath. Ilya had kept a picture of me? All these years?
"Papa will come and get us." There was a new kind of strength in his voice, and I glanced down at him to find him staring at me. "Papa will come and save us because he loves us."
"He loves you so, so much," I whispered, smoothing my fingers down his dirt-streaked cheek. Ilya did love Alec, and he would come for him. But he didn’t love me. He wouldn’t come to save me.
I was self-aware enough to know that. Maybe once upon a time, Ilya might have thought he cared about me, but that was a long time ago, and any time I had seen even a flicker of softness in his eyes recently, he had quickly followed it by cruelty.
Ilya only kept me around to punish me for something I didn’t do. Not that it mattered. I would take all the punishment Ilya doled out to be in my son's life.
From somewhere in the abandoned house, a door slammed so loudly that I jumped. In my arms, Alec sobbed into my filthy shirt, his little fists twisting the fabric.
"Mama."
"It’s okay. It’s okay." Keeping him close to my body, I moved him away from the door.
If someone was going to come in here and hurt us, then they would have to get through me first. Wildly, I looked around for something, anything that I could use as a weapon, but there was nothing.
If it came down to a fight, I would have to use my fists.
A man’s voice shouted something, and a woman answered just as angrily.
Halfway to my feet, I paused.
"Mama, that isn’t Papa’s voice," Alec whispered.
"I know." Slowly, I sank down to gather him back into my arms.
"Then why is she here?"
That was the question, wasn’t it? Why was Ilya's fiancée here if he wasn’t? But deep down I knew why.
Deep down I knew the truth.
Marguerite was behind this whole mess.
Days passed, or at least I thought it was days.
Our water bottle was replenished, and a pack of stale sandwiches were brought to us, but the waste bucket didn’t get emptied, and the smell that was coming from it made me want to heave.
I probably would have, except there wasn’t anything in my stomach to throw up, and honestly, I didn’t want to add to the foul stench of the room.
Sometimes I heard Marguerite's voice, but as the days wore on and no help came, I was beginning to think I was just imagining it all.
Maybe this whole thing was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. For all I knew, I hadn’t gotten out of that burning building, and this was just some weird coma dream or even death.
Every time I had those thoughts, I'd look at Alec and know the truth. If this was a dream, Alec would be happy. At the park and eating ice cream. Something like that. I refused to believe my subconscious would put us here.
Not that it made it any better. Reality was pretty dire, and I knew deep down that the longer we stayed here, the worse it was going to get.
In the half-light, I let my eyes fall on the sleeping form of my son. Soon it would be completely dark, and I wouldn’t be able to see him at all, but until then I kept my eyes glued to him.
He had lost weight since we had gotten here. His hair was matted, and his skin and clothes were filthy. There was a hollowness in his cheeks that shouldn’t be there, but worse than that, worse than anything was the fact he cried in his sleep now. It was the only sound he made. He had given up hope.
I tried to comfort him and to tell him that it would all be okay, but he didn’t believe me anymore. I wasn’t even sure I believed myself.
The one thing that gave me hope was the fact they hadn’t killed us yet. Each day that went past without our execution was a blessing because it meant they needed us alive for something.
Not that I was under any illusion that that thing would be good. It wouldn’t be.
Not with Marguerite in the mix.
I’d always hated that woman. Alec had as well. I’d thought it was just jealousy because she was going to marry the man I loved, but it hadn’t just been that. I hadn’t trusted her, and for good reason, it would seem.
Leaning back against the cracked plaster of the wall, I let my eyes shut. It had been so long since I had last slept properly that I was beginning to feel drugged and out of it.
I just needed to rest for a few minutes. Whilst it was still light enough to see in case someone came in. If I was going to protect Alec and get us out of here, then I needed to be as sharp as a knife.
Well, sharp as a blunt spoon would have been an improvement to how I was feeling now, but that still meant I had to rest. Just for a second.
"Where are they?"
Marguerite's voice cut through any thought of rest I had. My eyes snapped open.
"Where you left them yesterday," the man who I recognized as the driver said. After so long trapped here, I was getting good at recognizing voices. "When is this going to be over, Marguerite?"
"It’s almost time. Just a little while longer." Her voice softened, and in the silence that fell, I could hear the unmistakable sound of kissing.
That’s why he had looked strangely familiar outside the hospital. I’d seen him briefly once before. At the engagement party when I’d caught Marguerite kissing him.
He was her lover.
"Don’t abandon me now," she whispered in her fake breathy voice.
"Never." Unlike hers, his voice was strong. "I will never leave you to a man like this. I just want this over."
Her sigh was loud. "I want that as well, and it will be soon. He’s pretty much putty in my hands."
An edge of triumph had entered her voice, and I could easily picture her smug face.
The "him" they were talking about was clearly Ilya.
"He thinks she kidnapped the boy and is ripping the city apart to find her," she giggled. "I’ve heard there’s a no-mercy order. He’s going to put a bullet in her skull the second he finds her."
"Except we don’t want him to find her," her partner pointed out.
I swallowed hard. Ilya thought I had kidnapped Alec? Of course he did. There had never been a second since I had met him that he hadn’t thought the worst of me.
Still, better me dead and Alec saved than the alternative.
"Well, not until we are ready," Marguerite giggled. "I don’t even think he will do it himself, although he might pull himself together long enough to do it." There was more laughter. Like she thought this whole situation was the funniest thing ever. "The mighty Ilya Popovitch is a mess."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he’s locked himself in his study drinking. Lamenting the fact he trusted a woman who kidnapped his child. His men follow orders, but he is broken. Imagine what he will be like when he finds the body of his son in the gutter outside his building."
I couldn’t help it; I moved closer to Alec. So that was their plan. To murder an innocent boy. But why? Alec was worth more alive than dead. Ilya would burn the world to ash to avenge his child. So why kill him?
"Imagine his rage when he finds out Daisy did it. It will take away two of my problems in one go because I really do think he will kill her this time. And then I will be free and clear to—"
I gasped so hard that it made my chest ache.
Fuck, that was their plan. They were going to murder Alec and make Ilya think I did it.
Shit.