Chapter 17 Catarina
Chapter seventeen
Catarina
I blink in and out of consciousness during the drive. My hands ache from being bound, and whatever this rope is has me appreciating the silk that Matysh used.
I should’ve told him how I felt. The pain of that settles deep in my chest as I fade back into the darkness; whatever I’ve been given is too strong for me to fight.
When I finally regain consciousness, I’m in a pitch-black room.
“Hello!” I cry out, my voice hoarse and raspy. I try to blink away the bleariness, but it doesn’t work, so I focus on where I am.
Even though I’m bound, I’m able to feel my surroundings. It slowly registers to me that I’m lying on something plush and strikingly comfortable...
A bed. I’m on a bed.
I kick my ankles, realizing they’re no longer zip-tied. However, as I toss my legs over the bed and try getting up to walk around, my body rejects the idea. I’m still too doped up to move.
What did they give me? My heart starts to race, beating unevenly in my chest. What if it was something that could hurt the baby?
This is my worst nightmare.
I don't know what the hell happened. I don't know if the rest of the staff at the house are okay, if Matysh is okay. I don't know where he went this morning or when he came back.
I don't know if he came back.
And that’s what unleashes the floodgates. My heart squeezes deep in my chest, as the tears slip from my eyes.
I roll onto my side, my body feeling heavy and lethargic from whatever drugs they’ve given me. My stomach furls, and I fight the urge to vomit as a sob breaks loose in my chest.
Please don’t take Matysh, too. Please.
I don’t even care that he’s rough around the edges. I don’t care if he snaps the fingers of every man who’s ever thought that he could maybe touch me.
I don’t care.
I don’t care because while he does all the wrong things, he still…tries.
I guess I have to credit him in the situation that we were both placed into. He’s hated me, and the closest he’s really come to hurting me is through pleasure in the bedroom.
And I need him to show up for me.
I need him more than I’ve ever needed anyone.
“You have to be alive,” I whisper into the darkness, through my tears. “You just have to be.” I bury my face into the duvet, which is thick and feels foreign to me. I have no idea where I am, but all I can do is focus on Matysh’s face in my mind.
What would he even say to me? I conjure up the scenario, thinking of his gruff demeanor. He might be a monster, and I realize that’s completely fine in the world we live in—especially when my imagination gifts me his voice in my head, loud and clear.
Just stay alive, ogonyok (Little Flame). His voice booms through the chaos and panic threatening to drown me. I cling to his deep tone and the words that I know he’d say to me, if he were able to.
And that’s what I have to hold on to. Even as the blackness behind my lids suddenly lightens.
The lights to the room turn on remotely and I blink away the burning as they shock my pupils. I'm also acutely aware of the pounding in my head, and how painfully groggy I’m feeling at the moment.
I might be fucking delusional. And that’s exactly why my mouth still seems to keep moving despite knowing that no one gives a shit about what I think. “Hello! Let me go!” I cry out, finally sitting up. My head spins as I try to slow my racing heart. My vision is still blurry.
I squeeze my eyes shut once more and count to ten, fighting off the urge to vomit once more. Once the wave of nausea passes, I open my eyes again, this time able to work through the discomfort and adjust.
I freeze when I take a good look at the room.
I know this place.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head as the panic starts to pulse through my core. “Please, no. This cannot be happening right now.” I shut my eyes once more, willing it away. Begging for it not to be true.
But it is. I’m back to my own version of hell.
As expected, when I open my eyes again, I see my name carved into the wall right below a poster from my childhood. I haven't been in this room since I was ten years old. And it makes me sick to think of the way I was locked in here.
Like a princess in a tower.
This is the place where I spent time being conditioned to be controlled, until my father knew that I wouldn’t disobey him. This is where I was locked away while he grieved the death of my mother for nearly a fucking decade.
I shift on the white duvet, just as the knob squeaks across the room.
The door opens, and I don't need to look to see who it is. He doesn't say anything as he steps inside and closes it, locking both of us inside this room together. I can smell his cologne from where I sit.
It makes me sick.
“Why?” I ask as I turn my head and look my father in the eye. “Why are you doing this to me? Haven’t you tortured me enough, Papa?” I feel my voice break. “You told me I’d never have to come back here. You told me—”
“You've played your part marvelously,” my father says, offering me a smile before taking a casual seat at the foot of my bed. “I am quite proud of how quickly you were able to conceive.”
Bile shoots up the back of my throat at his words. I don't understand what's happening right now. And I don't know what part I had to play in any of this, but I didn't want it.
“Tell me what the hell is going on right now,” I croak out, on the verge of tears that quickly dried once the lights came on. “Where's Matysh? Why would he discard me like this? Did you hurt him? Did you make him do this?”
He takes a deep breath and doesn't answer, running a hand down the thigh of his black slacks. “This was for the best…”
“This cannot be happening.”
“You were just a method of an heir,” my father reaches out to pat my leg, and I quickly jerk myself from him.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I seethe at him.
He gives me an annoyed look—one that reeks of the past relationship we had. “If you had been a boy, Catarina, I wouldn’t be in this predicament, but unfortunately, your mother was only able to bear one. You. And I have to deal with the cards I was dealt.”
My heart sinks, but where I expect to feel sadness, I just feel rage.
“I fucking hate you.”
He arches a brow and stands to his feet. “Oh, Catarina,” he sighs. “You need to get control of those emotions. You have to be careful with the baby. You don’t want to do anything to fuck this up for me.”
I take a deep breath, unable to look him in the eye as he looms over me. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, beginning to pace the floor at the front of the bedroom.
“All of this started when you told me about Mikhail,” he begins.
It feels like a knife to the chest because I already know where this is going.
“I don't need to tell you how big of a pain the Volkovs have been. We've tried reasoning with them without success. And then comes Mikhail, handsome and sweet. By all accounts, not made for this world. He fell in love with you, and everything fell into place. At first, I thought the marriage would be enough. Maybe it would be strong enough to bring our families together once and for all.” He pauses, looking at me. “I couldn’t believe you could love an enemy, but you are your mother’s daughter.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Foolish and guided by love,” he scoffs, shaking his head.
“But anyway, the more I thought about it, I realized sharing power with the spawns of Dimitri wouldn't be ideal.” He pauses to laugh, shaking his head as if the idea itself is funny.
“I figured they would be too much like their father to actually move forward. But then I realized a better plan. All you needed to do was get knocked up, which seemed easy enough. The problem was you chose the weakest sibling—and I needed to take them all out.”
My blood boils and I have the urge to rush to my feet and claw my father's eyes out. I feel sick, angry, and heartbroken. How could someone do this to their own child?
“You killed him,” I say, knowing exactly who could do something so sick.
“I had to. It was the only way I could make sure you wound up with Matysh.” He takes a deep breath and taps the side of his jaw, like this is amusing to him.
“Surprisingly, telling him to marry you didn't take a lot of convincing. It was almost like he was waiting for the right time to make his move anyway. Or maybe… Maybe he just saw the advantage to having both names together.”
Another slice of the serrated blade he's digging into my chest.
“Marrying Matysh, now that was the ticket,” he continues, nodding his head. “I was expecting to have to wait a long time for the pregnancy announcement. You two did surprise me at dinner. I thought it was never going to happen.”
I laugh to myself, squeezing my eyes shut as I think about it. My father's reaction was bizarre, but I didn't think it was bizarre because he was planning on killing my husband.
I feel like a fucking fool.
“Everything has fallen into place exactly as it was supposed to, Catarina. Soon enough, there won't be a viable heir to the Volkov family, which means the child in your womb will be the only claim. The working men are eliminated, so we will take over the ranking and decision-making now that you have the heir. It’ll be my place to put someone in as Pahkan while we wait. We don’t want to eliminate them entirely, just have two families under one roof—and all under control. ”
“You're a monster,” I whisper, staring at him with nothing but contempt.
“You might say that now, but this is how we get peace. Not with some flimsy marriage certificate. It never would have happened with Matysh.”
“This isn't how we get peace, this is how you get more power,” I counter. I can't control the sob that breaks through at the end of the sentence.
“I know you might not understand this right now, but I've saved you.” He pauses, his eyes locked stoically on my face. "Marrying either of those monsters subjected you to the Volkov family. You would’ve always been treated as a problem in that household. Here, in mine, you can raise your child under my watchful eye. It will be just like it should.”
“And you just expect everyone to fall in line behind you because you're the grandfather to an unborn child?” My voice is dry and he narrows his eyes at the phrasing.
“When Matysh is dead they won't have a choice.”
My heart skips a beat. “When Matysh is dead?”
He ignores me. “You should get some rest. It's bad for the baby if you're stressed.”
“Wait—” I call out but am silenced by the slamming of the door and the exterior locks sliding into place.
I stare at it, my heart still loud enough that I can hear it in the silence.
Just stay alive, Matysh. Stay alive. For me.