Chapter 24
MOLLY
I’m in total darkness. It’s strange, because I know my eyes are open, but I can’t see anything. I try to blink, to move my eyes around, but it doesn’t help. It’s disorienting as hell. I try to remember where I am, what happened, to come up with any explanation for all of this.
I move whatever parts of my body I can, just to see if I can. I flex my wrists and feel something cold against them. They’re at an odd angle, held behind my back. Panic spikes as I try to get them free, to bring them to my face, but they’re stuck and my arms are sore from being in this position.
I try to move my feet and realize that they’re also bound. None of this makes sense. How did I get here? Why am I tied up? My head throbs as I try to put the pieces together.
Suddenly everything comes back at once. I went for a walk. I stopped to give money to a homeless man. Someone grabbed me from behind. And then? Nothing.
I don’t know who grabbed me or why. I don’t know where I am or how long it’s been since I was knocked out. I clear my throat, and it feels mostly fine. It’s a little dry, but not hoarse.
“Hello?” I ask before I can stop myself. It’s a risky move, but what other choice do I have? “Is someone there?”
I hear the scrape of a chair and footsteps.
A tremor runs through me so hard it shakes my teeth.
My stomach churns with nausea and terror.
It’s fear of the unknown, mostly, and fear for my baby.
Whoever took me, whoever has me tied up, doesn’t know I’m pregnant, and that might be my only hope.
But I have to keep myself safe for their sake.
“Glad to see you’ve finally joined us,” a voice says, and then something is pulled off my head and the world goes a little too bright.
I have one physical advantage back. I take a slow breath. Then another. I force myself to look around slowly, to take in my surroundings before I look at the man who removed the bag.
We’re in some kind of warehouse. It’s nothing special to look at, really.
There are exposed beams overhead, a single bulb hanging on a long cord, flickering like it’s due to be changed.
The air smells like rot and rust and something sour.
Every muscle in my body locks as I brace myself to look at the man in front of me.
He stands there smiling, eyeing me with a hyena grin.
I know that grin. And I know those cold, dead eyes.
I remember his fingers digging into my skin, the weight of him pinning me down, the panic that turned my vision white.
It’s the man from the alley. The man who would have killed me if Samuil hadn’t intervened.
My pulse hammers so violently it hurts. He enjoys my reaction, telling from the way his grin widens.
“Well, well, well,” he says as he strolls closer, hands in his pockets. “Did you miss me?”
I force myself to stay still. He wants me to be afraid. I won’t show him any fear. I won’t react at all. It’ll rob him of his satisfaction.
“You cost me a lot of money that night,” he says casually, like we’re having a normal conversation. “It was supposed to be a simple job.” His smile fades into something sharper. “Mr. Volkov ruined all that. So now he’s stuck with the bill. And you’re going to help me get it paid.”
My throat tightens painfully. My greatest fear has come true. This is about Samuil. They took me to get to him. This is not random. It never was. The thought makes me sick, but it also gives me something to hold on to. He will come for me. I need to believe that, or I won’t survive this.
The man crouches in front of me, his breath reeking of cigarettes and cheap liquor. “You know who owns you now, sweetheart?”
I say nothing. He lifts my chin with two fingers. I pull my face away in the smallest, most controlled movement I can manage.
He leans closer, his lips almost brushing my ear. “You will make noise for me soon.”
I swallow hard and stay still. Any reaction will feed him. I repeat that over and over in my mind: Do not react. Do not provoke. Protect the baby.
Before he can say anything else, a door slams open on the far side of the warehouse. Heavy footsteps echo through the hollow space. The man stands, straightens his jacket, and steps back with an irritated sigh.
“I told you not to touch her, Alex,” the new man says to my attacker. “I’m trying to bleed Volkov dry, and that can’t happen if she has a single hair out of place.”
This new man is harsh and dismissive. He’s older than Alex and he looks a hell of a lot scarier. There are scars on his face, and his mouth looks like it’s permanently set into a frown. What’s clear is that he’s the man in charge. Alex is just a foot soldier, a pawn. He has no real authority here.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lebedev,” he says without any trace of actual contrition. “You know I can’t resist a pretty face.”
“If this goes south, you do whatever the hell you want with her,” he says dismissively. I shiver with disgust and fear. “Until then, keep yourself in line.”
The man, Lebedev, turns his focus on me.
“So,” he says simply, “this is Volkov’s new pet.”
Pet, he says. Like I’m an object rather than a human being. Of course I am. I’m Samuil’s pet and Mr. Lebedev’s leverage. Maybe stripping me of my humanity makes this easier. Maybe that’s how they find a way to sleep at night.
“She’s a little round in the face,” Lebedev tells Alex. “Is she pregnant?”
My heart stops. I feel the blood drain from my face. Alex shrugs. “Could be,” he says. “He’s obsessed with her. He’s kept her under lock and key for weeks. It’s taken me this long to get to her, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve been fucking like rabbits.”
Lebedev steps closer. I hold my breath. I keep my posture neutral, my eyes down, praying that looking weak will make me less interesting. He studies me for a long moment, then smiles a sadistic smile that promises more suffering than comfort.
“I hope she is,” he says mildly. “It will make this much more interesting.”
My stomach twists so violently I almost gag. I don’t let myself move.
“You’re very quiet,” Lebedev continues, circling me slowly. “Not even begging. Not even crying. Very different from most of our hostages. By now, they’re usually begging for their lives.”
I don’t say anything to this. Mostly I’m just trying to keep the images at bay. I try not to think of the people who’ve been held at this warehouse before me. I refuse to consider their fates.
“So disciplined,” he murmurs. “I wonder if that is your nature or something he trained into you.”
The words sting. They’re meant to. I press my lips together and inhale through my nose, slow and silent. My entire body trembles, but I force it to stillness. I can’t let them see how terrified I am. I can’t let on how badly I want to scream.
He crouches in front of me, his eyes scanning my face. “You know why you’re here, don’t you?” he asks. “You are leverage. You are bait. You are the lever that will pry Volkov apart, piece by piece.”
I try to stay numb, but a tiny sound escapes my throat.
He hears it. His head tilts slightly. “Ah. So you can react.”
He reaches for my face. I flinch instinctively, just a small jerk of my shoulders, but it’s enough. He laughs softly and straightens up.
“You will be useful,” he says. “And if Volkov refuses to cooperate, you will be a message instead.”
Alex stands behind him, eyes bright with anticipation. My pulse stutters wildly.
Lebedev turns toward the far wall.
“Let’s make her a little more comfortable,” he tells Alex, but his tone suggests it won’t be. “Let’s get her on the bed.”
The man moves toward me. I wish I had any control over my body, any way to pull away from them, but I can’t.
Lebedev holds my hands while Alex quickly unlocks the handcuffs around my wrists.
They’re both so strong, there’s no way to fight them.
In a flash, my hands are brought around my body and re-cuffed in front of me.
Lebedev then holds me tight as Alex unties my legs.
The men easily lift me up and carry me to the far side of the room.
I want to fight them, to struggle, but they have all the power. Lebedev pins my arms tightly against my body so I can’t move them, not that they would be much help while my hands are cuffed. Alex clamps down on my legs so I can’t kick.
They set me down on a dirty mattress and lift my hands over my head. I hear the sound of a click and look up to see my handcuffs being attached to another chain that’s bolted to the wall. The metal is cold and unforgiving against my skin, and the position hurts my arms.
The position also makes me more vulnerable. I refuse to look at the mattress. I don’t want to know what horrors it’s seen.
“Good,” he says. “Now we wait.”
He walks away, leaving me alone with Alex. I feel his stare on me like grease settling over my skin.
“You know,” he says casually, “I was going to have fun with you that night. But Volkov ruined it. Then he locked you up so I couldn’t get to you afterward. So now I get the pleasure of making him watch while I finish what I started.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
I almost lose the battle to stay silent.
A whimper tries to escape, but I choke it down.
I close my eyes because I can’t look at him anymore.
I think about the baby. I think about how tiny they are.
How vulnerable. The memory of the ultrasound flashes through my mind, bright and fragile.
The grainy shape on the screen. The heartbeat that sounded like a horse galloping in the distance. The way Samuil squeezed my hand the moment we heard it. The video he took. The quiet kiss he pressed to my hair. The whisper I almost didn’t hear.
Lyubimaya. Beloved.
The memory hits me with such force that tears rush to my eyes before I can stop them. I turn my face away so Alex can’t see them. I will not give him the satisfaction.
My only solace is that he doesn’t touch me.
He places a chair a few feet from me, just watching me, as if he’s daring me to try and make a move.
He wants to “have fun with me” only to make Samuil suffer.
He won’t do anything to me until Samuil gets here.
Which means Samuil is coming, and Samuil will be the one to finish what he started in that alley.
The room becomes very quiet for a long stretch of time. Only the flickering light and the distant groan of metal shifting in the rafters break the silence. My shoulders ache from the restraints. My legs shake uncontrollably.
Lebedev returns eventually, glancing at his watch. “Volkov should receive our message soon,” he says. “Then we will see how valuable you really are.”
Alex cracks his knuckles, his gaze hungry. My heart races so fast it hurts. My breath refuses to steady. I picture Samuil’s face as he finds his empty apartment. I picture him piecing together what happened. The panic. The fury. The guilt. The determination.
He will come for me. He will rescue me and he’ll put a bullet in Alex’s head before he has a chance to lay a single finger on me.
I hold on to that thought with every ounce of strength I have left. I let it wrap around me like a shield. I let it keep the terror from swallowing me whole.