Chapter 4 #2
He sets the glass down hard on the bar. "This is the beginning, Helena. You think you can escape?" He shakes his head. “If you run, I won't chase you. I don't run after girls."
He leans in. "I’ll simply make a phone call, and your father pays the price for your freedom. In blood."
He points toward a dark hallway.
"The suite at the end of the hall is yours," he informs. "It has a bed and a bathroom. Food will be brought to you. Don’t leave the room."
I stare at him, burning with hatred.
"Why?" I whisper. "Why me?"
"Because," he says, turning his back on me. "Collateral has to have value."
He picks up his glass again.
"And you are the only thing that man has ever loved."
He waves a hand at Lev.
"Lock her in."
The room is a beautiful prison.
Lev shoves me inside. The door clicks shut.
The "suite" is enormous. Silk sheets. Marble bathroom. A balcony with a view of the world. I try the balcony door, but it’s sealed shut.
For hours I sit on the edge of the bed, staring out at the city lights.
Eighty floors up, a bird in a gilded cage.
My fingers drift to my jaw. There’s no real pain—just the ghost of his grip, the way he forced me to meet his eyes, the memory clinging like a brand.
It’s a reminder: I own you.
Still, I can't stay here. I won’t sit and wait for him to decide my fate.
My father might be weak, but I’m not. I’m a Blackwood. We solve problems. We don't wait for them to solve themselves.
The door sits across the room like an invitation. Heart pounding, I cross the space quietly and test the handle, expecting it to be locked.
Instead, the latch clicks softly.
Unlocked.
A frown pulls at my lips. Why would he leave it open? Arrogance? Does he think I’m too scared to try?
Or worse. A test.
I don't care. I need to find a way out. A service elevator. A window that breaks. Anything.
The hallway beyond is dark, the obsidian floor cold beneath my bare feet as I slip outside. The penthouse stretches in shadow, lit only by the distant glow of the city, massive and hollow around me like the belly of a whale.
Moving carefully toward the living area, I scan for anything useful. A key card. Lev’s jacket. Maybe a spare left carelessly on a table.
Thud.
The sound comes from a room in the hallway.
I freeze.
Go back, my brain screams. Run back to the prison. Hide under the covers.
Thud.
I creep closer. The door is shut, but more sounds escape.
Thud.
A low, gurgling cry.
My hand moves on its own, pushing the heavy wood inward an inch to peer into the abyss.
The smell hits me first: sweat and urine.
Cold grips my spine.
It’s an office, but the desk has been pushed aside.
In the center of the room, a wooden chair sits on a plastic tarp.
A man is tied to it, barely recognizable.
His face is swollen with purple and black bruises.
One eye is shut, the other rolling wildly in his head.
A gag is stuffed in his mouth, muffling his wet, gurgling sobs.
And standing over him is Konstantin.
He’s removed his tuxedo jacket. His white shirt is rolled up to the elbows, revealing intricate tattoos on his forearms—snakes and daggers intertwined in ink.
He isn’t yelling or angry. That’s the most terrifying part. He is calm. Focused.
He holds the man’s left hand in his own, cradling it gently, like a doctor examining a patient.
"You stole from the shipments, Alexei," Konstantin says. His voice is a low murmur, almost gentle. "You know the rules. We don’t steal from family."
He grips the man’s hand and snaps it.
The sound is sickening.
My stomach lurches.
The man in the chair arches his back, straining against the ropes. A muffled, high-pitched scream tears through the gag, vibrating in the air.
I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp, but I’m too late. I stumble back, my shoulder hitting the doorframe.
The door creaks open wider.
Konstantin stiffens but doesn’t startle.
Slowly, he releases the man’s broken hand. His arm flops against the armrest.
Konstantin picks up a white towel from the desk. He wipes a speck of blood from his knuckles before he turns to the door.
His eyes lock with mine.
Without a word, he tosses the towel onto the sobbing man’s lap and starts walking toward me.
Brain and body alike short-circuit. I saw him break a man’s bones with the same indifference he used to order a drink.
He isn’t a businessman. He’s a butcher.
I try to back away, but my legs move like they’re encased in cement, sending me stumbling until my spine hits the hallway wall. There’s nowhere left to go.
Konstantin is on me in a second.
He slams his hand against the wall next to my head, boxing me in.
He invades my space, looming over me and pressing his body close enough that I feel the heat radiating off him. His chest heaves slightly, his eyes wild, dilated with the adrenaline of violence. It’s intimate and overwhelming.
"You should have stayed in your room, Helena," he snarls.
"You..." I choke out, my eyes wide, staring at his hands. The hands that just shattered bone. "You tortured him."
"He broke the rules," Konstantin says, leaning down until his lips are brushing my ear. "Actions have consequences."
My breath catches. The closeness is overwhelming. I can feel the hardness of his body, the latent brutality coiling under his skin. The pulse beating in his throat.
He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him.
"You’re not safe anymore," he whispers. "You think this is a game? That because you are a woman... because you are collateral... that you are safe?"
He tilts my head back, exposing my throat to his gaze.
"Your father's survival depends on you staying in line," he says, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, dangerously close to where he choked me earlier. "I told you I hold the leash. If you run... if you fight... if you ever enter a room without invitation again... I won’t break his fingers."
He leans back, his focus dropping to my lips, lingering for a heartbeat, then snapping back to my eyes. It’s a look of absolute ownership.
"I’ll break yours."
I shudder, a tremor running through my entire body.
"Do you understand?" he demands.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Good."
He steps back, the cold air rushing in to fill the space between us.
"Return to your room," he orders, pointing into the dark hallway. "And lock the door. For your own sake."
Not needing to be told twice, I turn and run, fleeing to my cage. I slam the door, slide down against the wood, and pull my knees to my chest.
My body tremors so violently my teeth chatter.
I thought I sold my soul to a devil.
I was so wrong.
I sold it to something much, much worse.