Chapter 26 Svetlana
SVETLANA
The smell hits me first. Mildew and rust and something else—something that makes my stomach turn even before I open my eyes. Concrete. Old blood. The staleness of air that hasn't circulated properly in years.
I know that smell.
My eyes snap open, and for one terrible, disorienting moment, I think I'm back in the cell—the same cell where Kazimir found me.
But this isn't the cell. The ceiling is different. Higher. And there's a window, small and barred, letting in weak gray light. I'm lying on something that might have once been a functional mattress, now just a thin pad over metal springs that dig into my back.
I try to sit up, and that's when I feel the chain.
My right wrist is shackled to a pipe that runs along the wall. The metal is cold against my skin, and when I pull, it doesn't give even a millimeter.
The panic hits me instantly, swift and suffocating. My breath catches in my throat, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my temples, my neck, my wrists. I pull harder at the chain, ignoring the bite of metal into my skin, ignoring everything except the desperate need to be free, to run, to—
The baby.
My free hand goes to my stomach, pressing against the slight swell that has only recently become visible. I force myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I try to think about how I could get out of here, or the possibility that Kazimir might—
Kazimir.
God, does he know? Does he know I'm gone? Is he looking for me, or have they—
No. I can't think like that. Kazimir is alive. He has to be alive. Because if he isn't, then I have nothing left to fight for except the tiny life growing inside me, and I'm not sure that would be enough to keep me from doing something desperate.
The sound of footsteps makes me freeze. It sounds like heavy boots on concrete, getting closer. Multiple sets. The sound sends me into a spasm of terror, all of the old fears and pain and torment rushing back in.
The door opens, and Iosef walks in first. He looks exactly the same as I remember—tall, broad-shouldered, with pale eyes that hold no warmth, or mercy, nothing human at all.
Behind him comes Grigory, shorter but stockier, with a crooked nose that has been broken more than once.
And finally Evan, the youngest of the three, with that smile that makes my skin crawl.
"She's awake," Grigory says, and there's something eager in his voice that makes me want to vomit.
Iosef's expression doesn't change. He studies me the way someone might study an insect pinned to a board—with interest and absolutely no empathy.
"Svetlana," he says, and hearing my name in his mouth makes me feel dirty. "It's been a long time. You certainly made quite the effort to escape. But that ends here. "
I don't answer. I can’t. My throat has closed up, every instinct screaming at me to run, to fight, to do anything except sit here and let them see my fear.
But they can see it anyway. I know they can. Fear has a taste, and men like these love to savor it.
"Not going to say hello?" Evan asks, moving closer. "That's not very polite. Especially after we went to so much trouble to bring you home."
"This isn't my home." The words come out steadier than I feel. "My home is with Kazimir."
Iosef's expression flickers—just for a moment—with something that might be anger. "Kazimir Orlov. Yes. We know all about your... relationship with him."
The way he says "relationship" makes it sound obscene.
"He took something that belonged to me," Iosef continues, taking a step closer. "I don't like it when people take my things."
"I'm not a thing." I lift my chin, meeting his eyes even though everything in me wants to look away. "And I never belonged to you."
"No?" Iosef crouches down in front of me, close enough that I can smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes. "I bought you. That makes you mine."
"Kazimir rescued me."
"Kazimir stole you." Iosef's voice is soft, almost gentle, which somehow makes it worse. "And now I'm taking back what's mine. With interest."
His eyes drop to my stomach, and I feel my blood turn to ice.
"Don't." The word comes out as a whisper. "Don't you fucking touch me."
Grigory laughs. "Still got some fight in her. I like that."
"She'll break," Evan says, snickering. “She did last time.”
I remember breaking. I remember the cell, the darkness, the pain. I remember the sound of their footsteps coming closer, the way my body would curl in on itself, trying to become smaller, invisible, anything to make them lose interest.
I remember what they did to the other girls. The ones who didn't survive.
But I also remember Kazimir's face when he found me. The way he looked at me like I was something worth saving. The way he held me, his body wrapped around mine, keeping me safe.
The way he touched my stomach just hours ago, his hand gentle and reverent, like he already loves the child we might have made together.
I can't break. Not again. Not when I have something—someone—to protect.
"You can't keep me here," I say, forcing my voice to stay level. "Kazimir will come for me."
"Let him come." Iosef stands, looking down at me with those dead eyes. "We'll be ready."
They leave then, all three of them, and I hear the sound of a lock sliding into place. Multiple locks. Just like before.
I'm alone.
The panic tries to claw its way back up my throat, but I shove it down. Panic won't help. Panic will only make me weak, and I can't afford to be weak. Not now.
I look around the room, cataloging everything. The chain on my wrist is solid, but the pipe it's attached to looks old. Rusted in places. Maybe if I work at it long enough, I can loosen it. Or maybe I can break my thumb, make my hand small enough to slip through the shackle.
The window is too small and too high to reach, even if I could get free of the chain. There's nothing else in the room except the mattress and a bucket in the corner that I try not to think about.
No weapons. No glass to break. Nothing sharp.
Nothing I can use to end this if it comes to that.
Because it might come to that. If they try to touch me, if they try to hurt my baby, I will find a way. I will bite through my own wrists if I have to. I will bash my head against the concrete until everything goes dark.
I will die before I let them have me again if Kazimir doesn’t come for me. If he’s gone, and I can’t get away, I won’t go back to what they did to me before.
The thought should terrify me. But there's also something almost peaceful about it. A choice. The one thing they can't take from me, no matter how many chains they use.
My hand goes to my stomach again, and I feel tears burn behind my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."
But I'm not sorry about Kazimir. I'm not sorry for the nights we spent together, the way he made me feel alive again after so long feeling like a ghost. I’m not even sorry about the baby, because if it is his… or even if it’s not, he’s made me feel like it is, anyway.
I'm sorry that I might not get to meet them. That I might not get to hold them, to possibly see Kazimir's eyes looking back at me from a tiny face.
That I might not get to have the life we talked about, the one I’d just started to try to believe in before everything fell apart again.
Tears come then, hot and silent, sliding down my cheeks, and I let them fall.
There's no one here to see my weakness. No one to use it against me.
I cry for what I might lose. For what I've already lost. For the girl I was before all of this, the one who believed the world was hers to play with, who thought that even if her life was decided by others, it would always be mostly good and comfortable and pleasant.
That girl is dead. She died in the cell beneath Iosef's compound, and what crawled out in her place is something harder and sharper, more willing to do terrible things to survive. But even that version of me might not be enough this time.
If they come back—when they come back—I will fight.
I will make them work for every inch, every touch, every moment of compliance.
I will make them regret taking me. And if fighting isn't enough, if they overpower me or drug me or find some other way to break me down, then I will find a way out. A permanent way.
The door opens again, and I tense, my body going rigid with fear and fury.
It's Grigory this time. Alone, which is worse.
He's carrying a tray with a bottle of water and what looks like bread. He sets it down just inside the door, far enough away that I can't reach it without stretching the chain to its limit. "Iosef says you need to eat," he says, not coming any closer. "For the baby."
The way he says "baby" makes my skin crawl.
"I'm not hungry."
"You will be." He tilts his head, studying me. "You're different than before. You look… harder."
I don't answer. I’m not going to crawl for the food the way he wants me to, especially right now, when I’m not hungry. He can wait there for a long time if that’s what he wants.
"I liked you better before," he continues. "When you were soft. Breakable."
"Get out,” I snap, as if this were my bedroom and he’s an intruder.
"Iosef has plans for you, you know." Grigory's smile widens. "Big plans. He's been waiting for this. To get you back.”
"Kazimir will kill you," I say it with absolute certainty, because I know that if Kazimir is alive, he will come. And when he does, these men will die screaming.
"Maybe." Grigory shrugs. "But that's a problem for later. Right now, you're here. And we have all the time in the world."
He leaves, locking the door behind him.
I ignore the food, and I think about Kazimir. I have to believe he's coming. I have to believe he's alive and looking for me and that he will find me before it's too late. Because if I don't believe that, I have nothing left.
The light from the window fades completely, leaving me in darkness. I lie back on the mattress, my hand on my stomach, and try to feel some movement, some sign that the baby is okay.
There’s nothing yet. Too early, probably. But I imagine I can feel something anyway. A flutter. A whisper. A promise. Hold on, I think. Just hold on a little longer.
I must doze off, because the next thing I know, I'm jerking awake to the sound of voices outside the door. Loud, angry voices.
"—told you to wait—"
"I'm tired of waiting. She's here, she's ours, and I want—"
"Iosef said—"
"Fuck what Iosef said!"
The door slams open, and Evan stands there, his face flushed, his eyes wild. Behind him, I can see Grigory trying to pull him back, but Evan shakes him off.
"Just a taste," Evan says, moving toward me. "Just a little taste. She owes us that much."
Terror floods through me, sharp and cold. I scramble backward, but the chain brings me up short. I'm trapped. Cornered. Evan's hand reaches for me, and I do the only thing I can think of.
I scream.
Not a scream for help—there's no help coming yet—but a scream of pure rage and defiance. A scream that says I would rather die than let him touch me. And then I lunge forward, my teeth bared, aiming for his outstretched hand.
I feel my teeth sink into flesh, taste blood, and hear him howl in pain and fury.
His fist comes out of nowhere, catching me across the face.
My head snaps back, stars exploding behind my eyes.
I feel myself falling, the chain catching me before I hit the ground.
Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Grigory shouting, hear Evan cursing, hear the sound of a struggle.
And then Iosef's voice, cold and commanding: "Get out. Both of you. Now."
There are footsteps. The door slamming. And then silence.
I lie on the floor, my face throbbing, blood in my mouth—mine or Evan's, or both, maybe. My hand is still on my stomach, protecting it.
Iosef crouches down beside me, and I flinch away from him.
"That was stupid," he says quietly. "Evan doesn't have my patience. Next time, he might not stop."
"Then kill me now." I look up at him, and I mean it. "Kill me now, because I will never stop fighting. I will never give you what you want. I will die first."
Something flickers in his eyes. A mingled respect and annoyance, I think.
"You won't die," he says. "Not until I'm done with you. And I'm nowhere near done." He stands and walks to the door, pausing in the doorway.
"Kazimir is coming," he says flatly. "We've made sure of that. And when he gets here, I'm going to make him watch while I break you until there's nothing left of the woman he loves. Then I’m going to take you back to the compound, and enjoy you for as long as you can until your body gives out. I’ll have a doctor there take care of the problem of the baby, if you manage to hang onto it through everything I’m going to do to you here. "
He steps out, and the door closes behind him, the locks clicking. I lie there in the darkness, my face aching and my heart racing, my hand still pressed protectively over my stomach.
Kazimir is coming. That should fill me with hope. But all I can think is that Iosef is ready for him. That this is a trap. That Kazimir might die trying to save me. And I realize, with terrible clarity, that I would rather die myself than let that happen.
I have to find a way out. Not just for me. Not just for the baby. But for Kazimir.
Before he walks into whatever hell Iosef has planned for him.