Chapter 18
Cara
I jerk awake to voices, my body screaming from the wooden chair I’ve been tied to for what feels like an eternity. They only untie me once or twice a day to use the bathroom.
I don’t know how many days it’s been. Even if there was a window in the room where I could watch the sun rise and set, I wouldn’t be able to see it because they keep a blindfold or bag over my head at all times. Their level of secrecy makes my skin crawl.
“We’re not getting anywhere,” he says. “It’s time to make use of our guest.”
My heart hammers as I recognize the voice of the man who spoke to me when I was first brought here. Wherever here is. I still don’t even know his name.
The sound of approaching footsteps gets louder and louder, making me shrink back as much as I can in the chair that I’m bound to.
“Hello, sweetheart,” the man greets me. There isn’t an ounce of genuine kindness in his voice, though.
“You’re going to regret this,” I warn him with an empty threat, my skin starting to heat up and grow clammy. I have no way of knowing if anyone is looking for me. Dmitri could just think I left town, and my father wouldn’t care if I disappeared unless he needs me to be useful to him again.
With every ounce of my soul, I want to be anywhere else. Even at my father’s house.
The man clicks his tongue. “I brought you here for a reason. It’s time for you to find out why.”
“What do you want? Why am I here?” I question him yet again, my nails scraping the thin rope binding my hands behind the back of the chair.
“You’re going to tell us about Dmitri Ivanov.”
My blood runs cold as my body tenses, my lips immediately pressing together in a straight line. I can’t give up information about Dmitri. I don’t care that things were rocky and confusing between us when I left.
I’d rather bleed out in this chair than give them something that could hurt him.
And if Dmitri realizes I’m missing, I’m terrified that he’ll get himself killed if he decides to try to rescue me.
“You know him quite well, yes?” the man says, sounding like he’s only a few feet in front of me.
I don’t say a single word, keeping my mouth shut as I feel his gaze on me.
“There’s no point in defending him if he didn’t bother to keep you safe.”
It still stings that Dmitri kicked me out and told me that he never wanted to see me again, but did he actually mean those words? Or was he just saying what he thought he should say?
I still refuse to speak a word.
The man lets out a humorless laugh. “Bring me the tray. Someone wants to be stubborn.”
“Yes, sir,” another man says, who I recognize as one of the guards.
The tray?
I lose my breath when I hear more footsteps and wheels rolling over the hard floor. The sound of light clattering also catches my ear.
“Why do you want to know about Dmitri Ivanov? How do you know him?” I blurt out the questions, trying to buy myself time before whatever they have in mind happens.
“Oh, now you want to speak to me,” he says. “My relationship to the Ivanovs is none of your concern. I want to know about yours. You worked for him, yes?”
I tense up when I hear metal clanging against metal, my skin crawling. What in the world is he touching right now? What is he doing?
“I don’t know anything important. All I did was organize paperwork and fetch him coffee. I’m nothing to him,” I assure him, trying to distance myself as much as I can.
“That’s funny. I heard quite the opposite, that you had a little love affair with Dmitri,” he replies with a scoff.
I can only imagine the rumors spreading through the city from family to family. Dmitri was already going through hell before. He’s probably up to his neck in threats by now.
Not that I’m any better off.
“So, I want you to tell me all about your boyfriend’s operations. Where is he pulling cash in from? Who are his current allies? What are his big future plans? Everything,” the man tells me, his voice becoming more demanding.
I swallow hard as the silence weighs down on me. I can’t tell him anything. What if the smallest detail gets Dmitri killed?
Suddenly, something sharp slices across my cheek, splitting the skin with burning pain.
I gasp and flinch backward, blood trailing down my face.
“Talk!” he shouts, leaning so close that I can feel the gust of his warm breath on my face.
I clench my jaw, my body starting to shake with fear.
If I talk, he dies.
If I don’t, I do.
They’re going to kill me here anyway.
Reality hits me like a truck, making me exhale shakily as I ball my hands up into fists. The next cut slices my other cheek, making me grimace from the sharp sting that radiates throughout my entire face.
“You can’t possibly care for him!” he snaps at me, losing the cool, calm demeanor that he had at the start. “Do you think he gives a shit about you? Save yourself and give me what I want.”
I shake my head, blood trailing down my cheeks toward my jaw. Tears well up in my eyes, but they soak into the fabric of the blindfold before they can fall.
“No,” I say, my voice coming out as a whisper. It’s all that I can muster right now.
“You will give me information,” he hisses as he moves even closer, the heat of his body rolling off him in waves. He presses the tip of what must be a knife against my throat, making me freeze. “If it’s not about Dmitri, it’ll be about someone else.”
I breathe out shakily through my nose, too scared to even swallow as the tip of the blade scratches my skin. Why does he want information from me, of all people? I probably know less than he thinks I do.
“How about your father? Are you more willing to talk about him?” the man questions me, his breath gusting against my stinging cheek.
I stiffen at the mention of Sean. I’m certainly not as protective of him as I am of Dmitri, but I can’t shake the feeling that whatever information I give this guy can be turned into ammunition.
This will be the one time that I protect my father.
The man scoffs. “Oh, come on. Do you value your own life so little?”
Sweat starts to form across my forehead as anxiety warms my skin, the room itself feeling uncomfortably hot.
“Eventually, I’ll say a name, and you’ll give me information about them,” he tells me. “If you don’t, I’ll kill every single one of them after I get through with you.”
Cold fear seeps low into my stomach. “I don’t know anything. No one tells me anything!”
“Bullshit!” he bites out, making me flinch. “Tell me what you know about Luca Leonetti.”
I tilt my head up a little, my brow furrowing as I search the depths of my mind for that name.
Luca?
How do I know that name? Why is it familiar?
“What is the Italian black sheep up to?” he questions me, his voice full of disgust.
It feels like years ago, but Dmitri and I had a meeting with Luca about using his trucks for a shipment. I also remember him being fairly flirty.
“I only met him once. I don’t know anything about him,” I tell the man.
“I’m sure Dmitri spoke about him,” he replies, sounding impatient. “Did he recently have contact with him?”
I don’t even think talking about their business arrangement is a good idea. I press my lips together once more and remain silent, listening to the sound of my own shaky breaths.
The man sighs as he steps away from me.
Relief washes over me. He’s giving up for now. I can finally take a breath.
“Talk!” he suddenly shouts, his voice ringing in my ears.
A blade slices across my thigh. White-hot pain detonates.
A cry of pain leaves my lips as my entire body seizes in pain. Blood soaks my sweatpants.
“I’m not a patient man, Cara,” he hisses near my ear. “I have four names. Dmitri Ivanov. Sean O’Malley. Luca Leonetti. Andrei Smirnov. You will give me information on all four of them, or I’ll make you wish that you were dead.”
Pain radiates through me that I can’t find my voice. I don’t even know anything about Andrei other than he’s Dmitri’s friend! Why is he asking me about people I barely know?
“I’ll give you some time to think about that. You should choose wisely.”
The sound of his footsteps fading away echoes in my ears, followed by the door at the top of the stairs slamming shut. Sweat trickles down my face as I breathe in unsteadily.
All they see me as is a source of information, and if I don’t make myself useful, they will kill me.
I have no doubt about that.
Over the past week, or what I assume is about a week, they’ve only fed me and given me enough water to keep me alive. They barely let me use the bathroom, and they threaten to pluck my eyes out if I don’t have my blindfold on when they open the door to take me back downstairs.
Sleeping in this uncomfortable chair is nearly impossible unless I’m too exhausted to even keep my head up. I haven’t even been able to change my clothes or shower.
They don’t want me dead. Not yet.
They want me useful.
And usefulness means betrayal.