Chapter 6
ANYA
Ispend the entire first day cataloging everything I possibly can. Various men come in and out of the house, and I watch from the window. Some bring groceries, some bring weapons, some bring suitcases. I take it we’re going to be having guests.
I know what it all means. He’s preparing for war. I can only imagine how Mikhail reacted when he found his men dead and me missing. He’s going to tear Brooklyn apart looking for me.
That’s why Viktor should have left well enough alone. I could be out of New York and halfway to another country by now if it weren’t for him.
That’s what I fantasize about when I finally lay down for the night.
I imagine what would have happened if Viktor hadn’t forced me into his car.
I would have hailed a taxi and made my way to JFK.
I would have gone to every ATM along the way and withdrawn every cent from my bank account. Cash isn’t traceable.
Then, for good measure, I would have bought a fake plane ticket with my credit card. They’d probably see through it, but it might have at least slowed them down a bit. Mikhail and my father would end up chasing their tails for at least a couple of days.
I could disappear forever and he’d spend his entire life wondering what happened to me.
Instead, I’m only a few miles away. I still haven’t figured out which neighborhood we’re in, but anywhere in Brooklyn is way too close to be right now.
He’s going to find me eventually. That isn’t a question or a fear.
It is a fact. At least he’ll probably kill Viktor in the process.
That’s a thought that brings me a certain level of joy.
The next morning, I decide to plan. I have to get the hell out of this house. My credit cards are almost definitely locked down now, so my original escape plan isn’t going to work, but I can improvise.
There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door and I open it to see one of the guards standing there.
“I’ve been asked to give you this,” he says, handing me one of the suitcases I saw being brought in last night.
I take it warily and slam the door in his face.
I heave it up on the bed and open it, assessing the contents.
Inside is a travel bag of toiletries and a handful of new clothes.
They’re not nearly the kind of finery I’m used to, but I do relish the idea of getting out of the clothes I’ve been wearing since I arrived.
It’s almost a nice gesture. Which gives me an idea.
I take a long shower and change into one of the outfits. It fits perfectly, which is a surprise.
I go downstairs to find Viktor sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of coffee. He looks up at me casually as I enter, but I’m not fooled. He’s probably been watching me on his security cameras since yesterday. I’m sure he saw me assessing the house. He isn’t stupid.
“How are the clothes?” he asks as a greeting.
“They’re perfect,” I answer sweetly. “Thank you so much for this, it was a really thoughtful gesture.”
I know I’m laying it on thick, but my biggest advantage here is that Viktor doesn’t know me. He’s seen me in an extremely stressful situation, and I can easily pretend that all the fussing was just my fight or flight kicking in. I can lure him into a false sense of who I am to trick him.
“You’re welcome,” he answers warily, narrowing his eyes at me. So, maybe I can’t completely trick him. I force myself to pull back the charm a little.
“I saw the groceries being brought in yesterday,” I say, changing the subject. “Did you happen to get any creamer? I can’t take my coffee black.”
“There’s half and half in the fridge,” he replies, still studying me. “I just got basics. I had no idea what you liked.”
“That’s okay.” I nod. “Of course, you could have just asked. Contrary to what you’ve seen, I don’t bite.”
He laughs loudly at this. “You just kick, punch, and scratch,” he shoots back. “And, occasionally, try to stab.”
“You have to understand,” I say gently. “This is all a very high-stress situation. Of course my self-defense instincts kicked in. But I really am grateful to you for rescuing me from Mikhail. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being his bride.”
He relaxes a fraction and nods. Perfect.
“So, no more stabbing?” he asks.
“No more stabbing,” I promise, mentally crossing my fingers. “What’s for breakfast?”
I remain pleasant for the rest of the day. I make myself as visible as possible, unpacking the suitcase with the door open so the camera will see me. I make small talk with the guards and with Viktor when he’s around. All the while, I’m watching and waiting for my opportunity.
I pay attention to the guard shifts. Two men rotate outside the front door every four hours.
In the afternoon, there’s one guard who smokes and often steps away from the door to get in a cigarette break.
He’s clearly the weak link. I mentally catalog the shift, and watch to see if he comes back any other time during the day.
He doesn’t, but at least I have a window for the following day.
I eat lunch and dinner with Viktor. We make the smallest of small talk.
He probably at least suspects that this is all for show, but he doesn’t push me.
He gives me space. He lets me explore the house more.
He has more things brought in, like books and puzzles.
All the while, he’s giving me a hint of how long he plans to stay. Indefinitely, it seems.
He slips away every so often to make phone calls that he doesn’t want me listening to.
That’s okay. I don’t need any intel about his movements, I just need to see if there’s a pattern to any of his communications.
For instance, I notice that someone named Sergei calls about every ninety minutes. When he does, Viktor excuses himself.
By the following morning, I have a pretty solid plan. I’ll wait for the afternoon guards to take their shift. I have to time it with Viktor disappearing to take a call from Sergei. As soon as he’s gone, I have my chance to slip out of the front door.
At four p.m., the moment hits. Sergei calls and Viktor leaves the sitting room where I’ve been lounging in an overstuffed chair reading a book for the last hour.
His phone vibrates and he excuses himself.
I look toward the front door and see that there’s only one shadow in the window.
I have approximately ten seconds before Viktor shuts himself in the control room.
I make a run for it. Viktor’s far enough away that he won’t be able to catch me from this angle. I wrench open the front door and slam the guard from behind, causing him to stumble long enough for me to make a break for it.
I run as fast as I possibly can. I don’t hesitate or look back. I run down the street at top speed, feeling the cool air slap against my face. It’s the first fresh air I’ve felt in two days. The feeling is almost euphoric.
I’m almost to the end of the street when I see his blockade. Shit. Just as I’m wondering how I’m going to get around them, a hand reaches for me from behind, and then I’m tackled to the ground. I turn over quickly to face my attacker, only to look up into Viktor’s eyes.
He doesn’t look angry as he stares down at me. He almost looks amused. We’re both breathing hard and I can feel scrapes from where he pushed me to the ground. I disregard it all as I try to push him off of me, but he doesn’t budge. He remains until I stop struggling against him.
Suddenly, he’s standing up and yanking me with him. I try to struggle out of his grasp again, but it’s useless. He keeps one hand firmly planted on my waist and the other at my elbow, holding on so tightly that it’s impossible for me to get even a few inches out of his grasp.
He marches me slowly back to the house, and I can really feel the effects of the tackle now.
My ankle hurts with every step, and I’m sure that I’ll find it swollen when I get back into the house.
My knees and right elbow both sting from scrapes, and my shoulder is sore from him yanking me back.
Worst of all, though, is my pride. Maybe it was a longshot, but I really thought I could get away from him. Stupid.
When we get back into the house, he doesn’t yell or try to punish me. Instead, he just locks the door and smiles at me.
“You can always try again tomorrow,” he says pleasantly, and I realize this is all just part of that psychological warfare I’ve heard so much about.
He’s completely in control of this situation and he knows it.
He probably didn’t even panic when he saw me running down the street.
He probably just rolled his eyes and set off on a leisurely stroll to grab me.
I was never even close to escaping, but he gave me just long enough chance to let me think I was.
I turn on him, fuming. “You should have just let me go,” I nearly scream. “You have nothing to gain by keeping me locked up like a prisoner.”
“I’m not letting you run back to Mikhail and getting me killed.” He shrugs so casually and unbothered it makes me want to scream.
“I have no intention of going back to him,” I tell him. “But when I do get away from you, I’m going to make sure he knows it was you who took me. I’ll be far away from here and you’ll have to deal with the fallout. You can kill each other for all I care.”
He throws his head back and laughs like what I’ve said is endlessly amusing.
“Your little escape attempt was cute, but don’t start to think you’ve actually got a shot in hell at getting away from here.”
He is so smug and so sure of himself, I raise my hand to slap him.
It’s completely involuntary and even takes me by surprise, but not as much as him catching my wrist in midair.
The contact is immediate, and so is the electricity that I feel when he grabs me.
Heat floods my face and I wrench my wrist away, not needing another injury to deal with.
“It was a valiant attempt, Valkyrie.” He smirks. “I can’t wait to see what you try next.”
With that, he turns back to his control room and leaves me alone.
I stare at the front door until two more shadows replace the smoker and the man I hit.
In my father’s house, there would be consequences for attacking a guard, but Viktor says nothing about it at all.
I glare at his back and hobble up the stairs to my room, prepared to lick my wounds.