15. The Struggle
I waketo the gentle caress of sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. A sense of contentment settles over me, a feeling of safety and belonging that I haven’t experienced in what feels like a lifetime. The aroma of brewed coffee and sizzling bacon fills the air.
Alexander’s doing?
Stretching, I push myself up on one elbow, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand. Alexander’s bedroom is exactly as I remember it – a sanctuary of muted colors and clean lines, a reflection of the man himself. My eyes linger on the rumpled sheets, the warm silk from our entwined bodies. Heat creeps up my neck, a phantom touch echoing the night’s pleasures.
A soft creak at the door draws my attention, and I turn to see Alexander entering the room, a tray laden with breakfast balanced in his strong hands. He is clad in a pair of black boxer briefs, his muscular chest and arms bare. A playful smile dances on his lips, and his eyes, the color of a stormy sea, hold my gaze.
“Good morning, my Ava,” he murmurs, setting the tray down on the bed before leaning in to kiss me. His lips are soft and warm against mine.
“Good morning,” I say. The smell of coffee and bacon wafts up from the tray, making my stomach rumble.
He sits down beside me, his arm brushing against mine. He pours me a cup of coffee, the steam swirling upwards like a genie escaping its lamp, and hands me a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast. “I hope you’re hungry,” he says with a mischievous grin.
We eat in comfortable silence. The only sounds are the clinking of silverware and the occasional sip of warm liquid.
“What are you doing today?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Besides chasing you around and making sure you’re safe and not sneaking into strangers’ houses at night?” he teases, his fingers tracing patterns on my bare thigh, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine.
I giggle, my heart fluttering at his touch. “I don’t have any plans,” I admit. “I think I’ll just stick around this newly found mansion of mine. Maybe clean up a bit. What do you say?”
His smile fades, replaced by a look of seriousness that makes my stomach clench. “I can’t love,” he says, his voice low. “I have to take care of some things.”
My mood shifts. For once, I don’t press for details. I know what “things” he’s referring to: the debts he owes, the ties that bind him to the Veles Network. “Just be careful, Alexander,”I whisper.
As we finish breakfast, he stands up and presses a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment, a silent promise and farewell. “I have to go,”he says. “But I’ll be back later. Just relax and take it easy today. Enjoy your treasures here.”
I nod, feeling disappointed that he’s leaving but also understanding that he has obligations and a life outside of our shared bubble of love and desire.
He has to protect Michelle. And in his own way, he’s trying to protect me as well. As he turns to leave, I catch him by the arm, my fingers tracing the familiar contours of his muscles, a silent plea for him to stay. “What do you want for dinner?”I ask, forcing a smile, trying to mask my worry.
“You,”he replies with a husky laugh, pulling me close.
“One me, coming right up,”I say, my voice light. “Please come home right after, okay?”
“Yes, of course,”he promises, his eyes avoiding mine as if he can’t bear to see the worry reflected there.
“What kind of business are you doing today?”
“Kovacs,”he says, his voice devoid of emotion, his eyes darkening.
He leans in, his lips brushing against mine. I pause, my hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
“What about Michelle?”I ask.
“She’s safe, for now,”Alexander assures me. “I put her in another facility, far away from here, where Kovacs and his men can’t reach her.”
I relax the tension in my shoulders. “Good,”I breathe, my hand caressing his arm. “Just be careful, okay?”The realization dawns on me – that’s what he’s been doing, disappearing for days at a time, ensuring Michelle’s safety.
A rare smile, genuine and warm, lights up his face. “Always, my Ava,”he murmurs. “Oh, and I’m taking Mendel with me, so you won’t have a ride. Please stay here until I return. I want to show you something when I get back.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you want to show me?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,”he replies with a wink, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But it involves my kitchen, some food, and your naked body.”
The memory of last night makes me blush. “I’ll think about staying then,”I say, my voice husky with a desire I can’t conceal.
I go to the kitchen and find myself lost in the simple act of washing dishes. The warm, soapy water envelops my hands. I scrub away at a stubborn stain on a porcelain plate, my mind replaying the conversation with Sarah, her tearful confession.
The rhythmic sound of running water and the clinking of silverware against the sink fill the silence of the house. A sudden noise from the living room startles me, breaking the peace. “Alexander, is that you?”I call out, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “What did you forget?”
Silence.
A heavy, oppressive silence that sends chills down my spine. My heart begins to race, and icy fingers squeeze the air from my lungs.
What’s going on?
I make my way towards the living room, my steps cautious, my senses on high alert. As I round the corner, my blood runs cold.
Two men, their faces hidden behind black ski masks, stand in the center of the room. Their bodies are tense, and their hands grip guns that glint in the morning light.
Shit, no!
Before I can react, before I can even scream, one of them lunges towards me, his hand clamping down on my arm like a steel vice. I struggle, but his grip is unyielding, his strength overwhelming. He pushes me to the floor, his weight pinning me down, his voice a harsh whisper against my ear.
“Well, that was easy. You are a pretty little girl.”He continues to the other guy, “Blindfold her now.”
The guy on top of me holds his dirty hand over my mouth, so I can’t scream. The other man produces a rough cloth, the coarseness scratching against my skin as he binds it over my eyes. I can’t see anything. All I hear is the thud of their heavy footsteps as they haul me through the house. A cold serpent coils around my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs.
I stumble and struggle against his grip, my attempts to break free as futile as a moth battling a hurricane. The blindfold slips momentarily, revealing a glimpse of the waiting van with dark windows.
A muffled scream tears from my throat, stifled by a rough cloth they shove in my mouth, the taste of dust heavy on my tongue.
“Be quiet, or else,”a gruff voice growls near my ear.
I kick and thrash, my body a weapon against these masked men.
“Enough!”another voice barks, harsher. A sharp pain explodes on the side of my face, the blow sending stars bursting behind my eyelids, leaving a metallic tang of blood in my mouth.
Despair crashes over me like a tidal wave, its weight pressing down on my chest, stealing my breath. I am at their mercy, powerless. The cold metal of the van door slams shut, sealing me in darkness.
The van lurches forward, the engine rumbling to life, carrying me away from Alexander’s home, away from everything familiar and safe.
The bumpy ride and the constant turns disorient me further, making me nauseous. Thoughts of Alexander, of the danger he might be in, mingle with the fear for my own life. My sweaty palms clutch at the rough fabric of the car floor.
* * *
After what seems like hours, the van comes to a stop, the sudden silence amplifying the sound of my own ragged breaths. I am dragged out, my feet stumbling on uneven ground, the scent of damp earth and something else, something pungent and unpleasant, assaulting my nostrils. A rough hand grabs my hair, pulling me forward before shoving me into a cold, confined space.
The blindfold is ripped away, and I blink against the sudden light, my eyes struggling to adjust to the weak lights. The door slams shut, the metallic clang echoing in the small space, leaving me alone with the musty smell of mildew and decay.
Where am I?
The walls are bare, painted a dull, oppressive grey, the peeling paint revealing glimpses of the cold concrete beneath. A single barred window, high up on the wall, offers a sliver of light but no escape. It’s too high, and I won’t fit through it. The room has only a rickety table and a metal chair.
I pound on the door, my fists connecting with the hardwood.
“Let me out!”I scream, my voice hoarse and raw. “It’s a mistake! I’m not who you think I am.”
A low, husky voice responds from the other side, the sound oddly familiar yet terrifying. “Oh, but you are exactly who we think you are, Ava Parker.”
I freeze, my blood turning to ice in my veins. The voice, a low, husky drawl that makes me shake, is familiar, yet I can’t place it. It dances on the edge of recognition, a memory that refuses to solidify.
“Who are you?”I say, my voice is shaky. “Why are you keeping me here? Let me go!”
My pleas are met with a suffocating silence, like a coffin lid sealing me in. I am adrift in a sea of darkness, the minutes stretching and twisting, each one an eternity measured by the drip, drip, drip of water seeping from a crack in the concrete wall.
Every tick of my watch echoes in the stillness, mocking the agonizingly slow crawl of time. I picture Alexander walking through the door of his mansion, his brow furrowed. Ava? he calls out, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through the empty rooms. But there’s no answer. He finds only silence. Does he think I’ve left him again? Is my disappearance confirmation of all his worst fears? The thought twists in my gut. A distant clang, metal against metal, jolts me back to the harsh reality of my prison.
Each breath I take feels shallower than the last; the air is heavy and stale. I press my back against the rough concrete wall, but it offers no escape. The darkness presses in, a crushing weight that steals my breath and makes my chest ache. I’m trapped.
Will I ever see Alexander again? Will I ever see anyone again?
Still, something is moving inside me: a spark of defiance. I will not be a victim. I will not succumb to the darkness. I will fight, will claw my way out of this nightmare, damn it.
The voice, that haunting voice, lingers in my mind, a puzzle I am desperate to solve. It is a clue, a thread I have to follow, and as I lie on the cold, hard floor, pulling my knees to my chest for warmth.
Hours later, the darkness outside my cell door hints at the late hour. The heavy footsteps of my captors echo down the hallway, the sound sending adrenaline coursing through my heavy body. The first one enters the cell, a hulking brute with a shaved head and a tattoo of a snarling wolf snaking up his thick neck. His rough hands grip my arm, the pressure a painful reminder of his power, while a second man, wiry and quick, with eyes that dart like a cornered animal, secures the blindfold over my eyes, plunging me back into a world of sensory deprivation.
I am dragged through a maze of corridors, my bare feet stumbling on the uneven ground, the musty smell of the building clinging to my nostrils like a foul perfume. The blindfold is ripped away, and I blink against the sudden brightness, my eyes struggling to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lights.
I find myself in another room, the walls grimy and bare, the air thick with the smell of stale cigarette smoke and something else, something metallic and unpleasant.
Blood? I shiver at the thought.
A single chair sits in the center of the room, its wooden frame scarred and worn.
The man who dragged me here pulls out a length of rope and proceeds to bind my wrists behind the back of the chair, his movements rough and efficient. I shiver, feeling vulnerable and exposed, my torn clothes offering little protection from the cold or the hungry gazes of the two men who flank me. I try to put on a don’t-you-dare attitude, but I have no idea if it’s working.
The door creaks open, and another man enters carrying a chair with him. His face is sharp and angular, with a pointed nose that twitches as he surveys the room. His eyes, dark and beady, seem to dart around, taking in every detail, lingering on me for a beat too long. He puts down the chair and takes a seat opposite me, his movements quick and jerky, like a rodent darting from one hiding place to another. The other two men leave, one of them casting a final, lecherous look in my direction that makes my skin crawl. Clearing his throat, the man begins to speak, his voice a low growl that belies his thin frame. “So, Ava,”he says, “we have some questions for you.”
I raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a defiance I don’t feel. “Questions?”I say coolly. “About what?”
“About the Veles Network,”he says, his eyes narrowing as if searching for any flicker of deceit. “What do you know about them?”
I let out a bitter laugh, a hollow sound that echoes in the small space. “What makes you think I know anything about them?”
He leans forward, closing in on me. “Don’t play games with me,”he warns. “We know that you know. Now talk.”
I shrug, maintaining my facade of ignorance, my mind racing. “I’m afraid I can’t help you,”I reply.
He slams his fist onto my chair, the sudden noise making me jump, the chair creaking beneath me. “You will talk!”he roars, his voice filled with a fury that makes my blood run cold.
I keep my eyes trained on the floor, the chipped tile suddenly fascinating. My heart thumps a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but I force my face to remain impassive. Let him see my defiance, not my fear.
He leans back in his chair, the tension draining from his shoulders. “Very well,”he says. “Kovacs will be in shortly. Maybe he’ll be able to get you to talk. One way or another, you will tell us what you know.”
My lips curl into a smirk that feels brittle and forced. “I highly doubt it.”
A moment of silence hangs in the air. Then I hear them – footsteps outside the door, slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. He’s here.
As promised, Kovacs enters the room, his face betraying nothing of his intentions. He places a glass of water on the table before me, a gesture that seems almost kind.
“Hello, Ava,”he says, his voice smooth. “I’m here to help you.”
I scoff, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Help me? I don’t need your help.”
“I think you do,”he counters. “You don’t want to make things any worse for yourself. Just tell us what you know.”
I shake my head, my resolve hardening. “I have nothing to tell you. I don’t know anything.”
“We know that you know, Ava,”he says, his voice taking on edge. “So don’t play dumb. We need to understand how much you know about us.”
“Idon’t know what you’re talking about,”I insist, my voice rising. “Just let me go home!”My head throbs.
“Are you thirsty?”he asks, his voice soft, almost gentle.
What’s going on?
I nod, my throat parched, my lips cracked and dry. He lifts the glass, a gesture that promises relief of cool water cascading down my burning throat. But instead of bringing it to my lips, he brings it to his own, tilting his head back and draining the contents in two long, deliberate gulps.
I watch, my body screaming in protest, every cell crying out for hydration. The sight of the water disappearing, stolen from me in a cruel display of power, makes my cheeks crimson.
Kovacs lowers the glass, a sly grin twisting his lips. “This is just the beginning, Ava,”he drawls, his voice a low purr. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
With a surge, I summon the last vestiges of my strength and spit at his feet, the glob of saliva landing with a wet plop on the concrete floor. “You bastard,”I hiss, my voice hoarse. “Let me go.”
He chuckles, a harsh, humorless sound that echoes in the small room. “We can’t let you go just yet,”he replies, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “You’re still useful to us. Alexander won’t dare mess up any mission knowing we have you here.”
“I’m not telling you anything,”I spit.
His smile vanishes, replaced by a chilling coldness that leaves an icy fire in its wake. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Suit yourself, pretty girl,”he hisses. “But if you don’t talk, you’ll be taken to see the boss. And trust me, it won’t be as pleasant as our little chat today.”
I meet his eyes with a defiant glare. My fists clenched behind my back, my nails digging into my palms. I won’t break, won’t give in to their threats and intimidation. I won’t betray Alexander, won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.
* * *
A shove sends me stumbling into the cell. The heavy steel door clangs shut like a tomb sealing behind me. I sink to the cold concrete, my body shaking uncontrollably. Kovacs’s face, his eyes like chips of ice, his smile a cruel twist of his lips, flashes in the darkness. And the “boss”he’d mentioned – the thought is a cold hand squeezing the air from my lungs.
Time stretches into a torture of its own. Every tick of my watch is a hammer blow against the silence. Then, the scrape of boots on concrete, the groan of metal hinges. A shadow looms in the doorway, a tray rattling in his hands. Water. My throat burns, but I press my lips together, my back against the rough wall. Trust no one, my instincts scream.
He’s a mountain of a man, his shaved head gleaming under the dim bulb. Lines, like cracks in granite, etch his face. He sets the tray down with a thud and leans against the wall, his eyes like a pair of hungry wolves, stripping me bare.
“Well, well,”he drawls, his voice a rusty hinge. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, ain’t you?”
I shrink back, pressing myself against the cold concrete wall, trying to disappear into the shadows. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body radiating towards me, making me feel trapped and vulnerable.
Just like with Cole.
“I’ve been thinking about you,”he continues, his voice a low growl. “Ever since I laid eyes on you earlier. You’ve got something special, something that sets you apart from other women. You’re a spicy one.”He reaches out, his hand moving towards me with a slow deliberation that makes my heart pound in my chest.
I scoot away, putting as much distance between us as the small cell allows. His eyes follow me, hungry and eager, filled with a darkness I recognize all too well. It’s the look of a predator, a man who sees me not as a person but as prey.
“You know,”he says, his voice a low, seductive purr, “I think I could make you real happy. I could show you things you’ve never seen before. Fuck you in ways you’ve never been fucked.”
His words are a threat, a promise of something unwanted. My body trembles with the urge to fight back, to scream, to do anything to escape his presence.
Just as I’m about to unleash the fury that simmers within me, a voice from the hallway interrupts. “Hey! What are you doing in there?”
The guard steps back reluctantly, his eyes lingering on me with a look of frustrated desire. “I’ll be back,”he promises, his voice a low growl before he turns and disappears through the cell door.
I collapse onto the floor, my body shaking uncontrollably.