Chapter 7
Alina
By the next morning, the city moves below me like it’s already forgotten I exist.
Cabs crawl through intersections. A scaffold crew clanks metal five blocks over. Someone on a rooftop smokes and flicks ash into the wind as if there isn’t a hostage locked in a penthouse above their heads.
If I didn’t still feel the abrasions on my wrists or remember the plastic and ropes biting into my skin, I could almost believe the past few days were just a dream.
That I didn’t get dressed in lingerie meant to humiliate me.
That I didn’t stare Dominik in the eye while he photographed me as proof of my brother’s debt.
That I didn’t slap him across the face like I had nothing left to lose.
But this is all real. Every terrifying second of it.
Archer owes the wrong men more money than we’ve ever seen. And I’m the leverage they’re using to draw him out.
There’s no good ending here. If Archer shows up, they’ll kill him and let me go. If he doesn’t, I suffer for his absence until they catch him and kill him slowly.
Neither of those options work for me. Archer will always choose the hustle. Dominik will always choose the job. I’m the only one in this equation who hasn’t been allowed to choose any damn thing.
I push away from the window. The guestroom feels smaller today.
I move through the room anyway, opening drawers, checking corners, convincing myself there isn’t some secret passage waiting to save me.
My shirts are folded in neat stacks. My leggings, my bras.
Someone bought all my usual toiletries and lined them up in military formation on the dresser.
There’s a fresh robe, the same one Dominik provided before the photoshoot, but I can’t bring myself to touch it.
Breakfast sits on a tray near the credenza. Fruit. Toast. Pastries. Coffee made exactly the way I like it. A small act of comfort that somehow feels more insulting than kindness.
I brought the tray into my room as Dominik demanded. He didn’t say I had to eat it.
A soft chime comes from somewhere in the apartment. Not the elevator. It’s deeper, more distant. Something I can’t identify. It dies away a moment later, swallowed by the penthouse’s hush.
I can’t stay in here another second. Waiting feels like it will kill me faster than anyone else will.
Cracking open the guestroom door I step out and listen. The hallway glows with warm light, like a hotel meant to relax guests rather than contain them.
On my right is a plain door that won’t budge when I turn the knob.
On my left, a heavy steel door with a push bar and a dark camera above it always watching. I try it as well, even knowing it remains locked.
After that, I head toward the living room, pretending I only want to admire the view.
As I pass the study’s open archway I refuse to look inside.
His deep voice carries, gruff and only a few words, like a decision is being made.
I thought he would come check-in on me, or give me an update, but Dominik hasn’t spoken a single word to me today.
Movement draws my eye. A guard stands by the kitchen, thick-necked and stone-faced. Another man positions himself against the wall, angled perfectly to watch the hallway.
Of course, there are guards always watching.
I retreat to my room and sink down at the foot of the bed, then I fall back on the thing that keeps me from falling apart. I make mental lists.
What I know for certain:
Archer has about forty-eight hours left on his deadline.
The exits are constantly monitored.
My door now locks from the inside with a key he gave me.
Food arrives three times a day, and he insists I bring it into my room.
What I don’t know:
How many guards are stationed outside the penthouse.
Whether there are any neighbors that would open their door to a barefoot stranger if I managed to escape.
How exactly my proclaimed suffering will motivate Archer.
Whether Dominik will turn me over to Gavriil in a week or fight him if Archer fails me.
With each second that passes, my faith in my brother waivers.
There seems to be a solution for it all, one that I’ve tried to avoid thinking about. One that I’m getting closer to offering.
Would Gavriil let my brother live if I agree to a month in his cage?
It seemed like an outrageous proposition yesterday. Today, it’s becoming slightly more tolerable. If a month in his cage bought Archer the rest of his life, would I sign my name on that deal and walk into hell on my own two feet?
Dominik told me to decide what I’m willing to sacrifice for Archer and ask myself if he’s worth it.
The answer is yes, and I’ll do whatever it takes.
God, it would be so much easier if I could just talk to Archer so I could figure out what in the world he was thinking.
Going to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, and stare at myself in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes aren’t so different to the ones on Dominik’s face thanks to his busted nose. Tension brackets my mouth. And beneath it all is my resolve.
I won’t sit here and wait for my fate to catch up to me. If I’m going to go down for this, I want at least one reckless choice to be my own.
I step back into the hallway. Voices from the study raise, then fade. The guard in the kitchen glances at his phone. He’s bored and distracted.
Now. My time to act is now.
I slip into the kitchen, my heartbeat steady.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” I say, aiming for embarrassed and harmless. “But…I can’t figure out how to use the coffee machine.”
The guard raises a brow like he can’t believe I’m that stupid. But then, like most men, he can’t pass up the chance to explain how something works.
“First, you have to press the power button,” he says, leaning over the machine.
His keycard dangles from his belt.
I move closer, nodding like I hadn’t even considered his sage advice. I slide the card free without brushing a single thread of his pants. My fingers don’t even shake, which scares me more than getting caught would.
He finishes giving me the play-by-play instructions while making my coffee. He sets the steamy hot mug on the counter. I reach for it, ready to wield it like a weapon when Dominik calls him away.
Even better since I didn’t want to have to scald the man.
The moment he disappears, I make my move.
I position my body between the camera and my hand as I head for the foyer. The keycard slides into the reader.
A faint green light blinks, then there’s a soft click.
Holy shit. It fucking worked.
I open the door to the small elevator vestibule—
The air shifts.
I know he’s behind me before I even turn around.
Dominik stands in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the keycard in my hand like it’s a live grenade.
His voice is soft. Too soft when he says, “Alina. Where do you think you’re going, dikaya koshka?”
And something traitorous inside me answers to the name.
A secret part of me is even relieved that he caught me.