Chapter Four
Chiara
M y chest heaves as I jolt into consciousness, waking with a gasp. My body still doesn’t move the way I want it to, and my limbs still feel like dead weight.
Blinking, I try to adjust to the dark room, but it’s not helping. I release a deep breath knowing that I’m no longer in the moving car.
As my head moves to one side, I feel the ache in my neck—the space where I felt that scratch—and it makes me wince. When I try to raise my hands to touch that sore spot, I realise that my wrists have been bound together.
A whimper escapes me, quiet and raw, as I try to pull against the restraint. It only digs even deeper into either one of my wrists, forcing my hands even tighter together. My breathing becomes uneven, the sharp gasps bouncing between the walls of this room.
It’s then that I hear it.
Footsteps.
The floor creaks beneath the sound of heavy shoes making their way towards me. The sound is measured and deliberate, and every step makes my stomach twist painfully harder, fear exploding in my chest as I squeeze my eyes shut.
I pray that this is just another one of my fucked up nightmares, but I’m not that lucky.
When I open my eyes again, the footsteps are closer, and louder too. Two shadows appear in the doorway of the room, both bodies broad as they tower above me, their presence suffocating me in this dark room.
Not one word is uttered as they step inside. Still dressed in their clothes from before—how many hours, or even days, has it been now?—they don’t stop moving until they’re standing right in front of me.
The one on the right reaches up first, his gloved hand lifting to tug the mask away from his face, and my heart stops.
It’s the same man from before…but it’s also not.
Their features are the same; high cheekbones, a strong nose, a sharp jaw, and full lips. His hair is cropped short, blond, and there’s a faint scar along his hairline.
My breathing stutters as I look away from him, and over at the man standing on the left.
When he pulls his mask off next, I recognise him.
I look between both men again, feeling bile rising in my throat.
Twins.
Identical.
They share the same dangerous aura too.
But there are some differences too, subtle ones. Like their scars, for example, and the areas where they’re pierced too.
The man standing on the left has a small lip ring, opposite to where the scar appears from, as well as a few different studs all along his ear.
The man on the right only has two piercings; a small stud on his nose, and another in his ear.
They both take a step closer towards me, matching smirks on their identical faces, causing my blood to run cold. The wicked curves of their lips does nothing to keep me calm. My breathing becomes faster as my chest tightens, and the sound of my beating heart in my ears drowns out everything else.
I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. My throat is too raw, too dry, and the words die before I can even form them.
“Good morning, beauty.” The one with the lip ring says again. He steps closer to me, crouching low so he can meet my eyes, his cold eyes scanning all over my face. “We were wondering how much longer it would be before you finally woke up again.”
I drag my eyes away from him to look over at the other man.
He watches me silently, his gaze unrelenting as the corners of his lips twitch.
My lungs feel tight as my chest heaves, struggling to draw in air.
I can’t breathe.
“Easy, easy.” The man crouching in front me says, his hand reaching out to grip my chin. His touch is firm as he tilts my head to the side slightly, forcing me to meet his cold eyes. “Don’t pass out on us now, beauty. That would ruin all the fun.”
I feel tears blurring my vision as I try to pull away from him. His hold on me only tightens as he brushes his thumb lightly against my jaw. I swallow a couple of times, noticing how quickly his eyes drop down to my throat, watching me, before I’m able to open my mouth.
“W-Who are you both?”
I manage to whisper.
Lifting his eyes back to mine, he smirks.
“You’ll find out soon enough, beauty.”
I flinch at his words, flinch as he calls me that—beauty—as I try to push up onto my bottom.
My head spins as I move, and I hear them both take a sharp breath in.
Finally, I’m sitting upright, my back pressed to the wall.
The second man steps forward, and now, both brothers are completely invading my space. Under their watchful eyes, I feel myself shrinking. My thoughts race back to my father and my brother, my stomach sinking as I think of Tamana.
I hope she’s safe, and I hope she’s able to get to my family if she hasn’t already.
I hope my father and my brother are on their way to save me now.
My body begins to tremble uncontrollably, a mixture of both fear and exhaustion, as the other man crouches down too. Both pairs of icy blue eyes study me, scanning every inch of me as they strip me bare with only their gazes.
I become paralysed under their stares.
“How are you feeling?”
The man who has just moved asks me, his voice low and deep, each word measured and deliberate as he speaks to me.
I take a few deep breaths in, forcing my throat to work, but the air in this room has become too thick, and I find myself choking on the sob that’s lodged in my chest. My heart beats violently against my ribs, and my blood rushes through my veins, each beat of my heart slamming into every part of my body.
The man in front of me—not the one who spoke just a second ago—tilts his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
“What’s happened? Cat got your tongue, beauty?”
Beauty.
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s called me that now.
Swallowing hard, I try to shake off the panic that’s threatening to drown me.
“W-Why am I here?”
I ask both men in front of me softly, my voice small as it trembles.
I hate how weak it makes me sound.
Neither one answers me.
Instead, they simply stare at one another. The sound of deep breathing fills the silence of the room, and the same man who’s been speaking suddenly reaches out, his fingertips brushing against my cheek in a soft way, clearly a mockery of gentleness.
I flinch instinctively, pressing back into the wall, but there's nowhere to go, and nowhere to escape.
“Don’t worry your pretty head about that, beauty.”
He murmurs, his eyes locked on my lips which have now curled into my mouth.
As my breathing grows uneven, I feel tears blurring my vision when he begins stroking along my cheekbone.
The other twin leans in closer, his eyes narrowing as he watches the scene unfold in front of him.
Something is muttered under his breath to his twin, but the words aren’t in English.
My entire body freezes as the foreign words bounce in the air between us, sounding harsh and guttural.
I know I heard it before.
The accent.
But after waking up, they sound a little different.
And now that they’ve switched languages…
I’m able to confirm exactly which language it is that they’re speaking.
Russian.
My heart races in my chest.
Even though we’re not really involved in the Mafia any more, I know Papa still talks to some of the members, and I know that there are others he absolutely refuses to speak with; those who argued that the alliance between the Russians and the Italians should be respected even after all that was done.
I don’t know the full details, but I do know this: The Russian Bratva had a hand in our family relocating to England.
“W-What are you saying?”
I whisper softly.
They’re both too focused on each other now to pay me any attention. The man in front of me murmurs something as his hand drops from my face, and his twin chuckles darkly. The sound sends a shiver through my body.
They’re both too close, their presence is too suffocating, and the way that they’re looking at me…it doesn’t seem like I'm their captive; it seems like I’m something precious, something that they can’t let go off.
My breathing hitches as I force myself to speak again.
“Tell me what you want with me.”
A glance is exchanged between the pair of twins, a silent conversation passing between them both.
When they turn to look back at me, my heart sinks.
“You.” The one who’s been talking all this time says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “We want you.”
The other brother breathes out a laugh, a dark edge to his low chuckle.
“And now, we have you.”
Tears continue falling down my face.
“Hush, beauty. There’s no need to cry.”
The other twin murmurs, his voice quieter now, and in a twisted way, even a little soothing too.
His gaze softens slightly as he reaches out, swiping his thumbs over my cheeks as he brushes the tears away.
My chest tightens painfully as both strangers continue staring at me.
More Russian words are murmured between them, and fear consumes me. I have no idea what words are being said, but the way that they’re both looking at me makes it obvious enough.
They want me.
They have me.
My stomach hurts.
“Are you hungry?”
My eyes meet his again—the one who’s been talking all along—as I blink at him, now feeling more disoriented than ever.
Hungry?
I don’t know if I’m hungry.
My stomach is hurting, but that’s not from hunger; it’s from the deep, gnawing fear which hasn’t left me ever since I woke up in this awful nightmare.
The other twin—the quieter one—scoffs softly, shaking his head at his brother.
“Our darling needs to empty her bladder first.”
He mutters, his tone sounding so clinical.
As soon as the words are said, I feel a sharp pulse of wariness through my body, and I realise he’s right. I do need to go. The pressure has been building, and I’ve been so busy trying to protect myself from them that I haven’t paid it any attention.
I squeeze my legs together, almost whimpering too, praying that the sensation will go away, but acknowledging it only makes it worse.
I need to go now.
“Come on.”
The loudmouth grips me by my arm, yanking me up to my feet as I let out a startled sound.