Taken

Chapter Four #2

My legs are weak, and I feel myself stumbling towards him, my body falling into his chest. His strong masculine scent fills my nose as I jerk back, trying to free myself from him, but I ultimately fail.

His grip on me is too tight.

He holds me in place as his palm slides down my back, freeing my hands as I gasp, my skin so sensitive as he runs his fingertips across my sore skin.

“Don’t even think about fighting me, beauty.”

The man murmurs into my ear, his voice sharp as he jolts me slightly, steadying me onto my feet.

He begins to walk, and I have no other choice but to follow behind him.

His grip is painful along my arm. As he leads us out of the dark room, I feel my heart hammering in my chest. Footsteps sound out behind me, but as I turn around, I see the other twin retreating into the hallway, his eyes sharp as he watches me being taken away.

As I’m tugged into another room, the first thing I notice is how clean this one looks compared to the one I was in before.

There’s a toilet here, a sink, a bathtub too, and a mirror that’s placed on the far wall.

The white tiles gleam under the dim light in the bathroom, but there’s nothing comforting about this space.

It’s too clinical, and the man standing beside me is making it impossible to relax.

“Go, beauty.”

He orders, releasing my arm as he folds both of his across his broad chest.

I hesitate as I look up at him, feeling my throat bob as I swallow hard.

His icy blue eyes narrow down at me, and his lips press into a thin line.

He’s already losing patience with me.

“Do you need me to guide you all the way to the toilet?”

My face burns as he asks me that question, amusement clear in his tone.

I shake my head as I take a step forward, followed by another, and another.

“N-No.”

Though my legs are shaky, and his presence is unmistakable at my back, I shuffle closer to the toilet.

My mind races as my eyes dart all over—thoughts of escape playing in my head—but there’s no chance of escape. There aren’t any windows, or any other doors here.

There’s only the suffocating presence of my captor.

“Move before I make you, beauty.”

It’s a throaty growl, another order, as my entire body trembles.

I look down, finally taking notice of myself after being conscious again, and my stomach twists. I’m still dressed in what I was wearing out to Club 67 with Tamana, and I have no shoes on. My feet suddenly feel cold against the tiles.

Keeping my eyes on the ground, I drag my underwear to just below my knees, and I lower myself to the toilet.

I hate this.

I hate how powerless this makes me feel.

I hate how exposed I am.

I hate how his gaze burns into me.

“I’m not leaving until you’re done.” He mutters impatiently. “Do what you need to do, beauty.”

Again, another wave of humiliation washes over me, but I have no choice.

It needs to be done.

Closing my eyes, I try to ignore everything; the situation, the fear, and the shame.

My fingernails dig into the soft flesh of my thighs as I only focus on getting through this moment.

Finishing up quickly, I flush before moving to the sink, desperate to wash my hands, but also to do something that feels relatively normal. The water is cold as it splashes against my skin, and I barely waste time before I’m scrubbing at both hands, trying to get myself all cleaned up.

When I look up, and I spot my reflection in the mirror, I freeze.

It looks like there’s a stranger staring back at me.

Her eyes are bloodshot from exhaustion, and her face is pale and drawn. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and this only deepens the hollow look in her expression. Her hair falls messily around her face, and there’s a faint bruise appearing on the side of her neck.

I swallow hard, my throat becoming tighter with every second that passes, knowing that this stranger staring at me is me.

Panic fills my chest as all sorts of thoughts race through my head.

How long have I been out?

How long have these psychos kept me here?

I try my best to remember everything, but my mind is hazy from whatever it was that they used on me. After their appearance at my new place, and the journey in the car, I can’t remember much else.

I blink a few times, my fingers gripping onto the sides of the sink to hold myself steady, when the reflection of a man appears behind me in the mirror.

My stomach immediately drops.

His figure stands behind me, observing me silently.

His presence feels like a heavy weight pressing against me, and I immediately look away, tearing my eyes away from him.

I turn the tap off, shaking my hands, allowing the droplets of water to fall down into the sink, as another thought hits me; I’ve been knocked out for hours now, if not even more.

My heart races as my breath catches in my throat, fear filling every space inside me.

What if Papa and Dario think I’ve left on my own accord?

What if they never find me?

My chest tightens as I force myself to breathe out, my eyes closing momentarily as I fill my lungs with a mouthful of air.

When a hand darts out to grab my arm again, I flinch as my eyes fly open.

His grip on me is firm as he tugs me backward, my back touching his front.

My heart pounds as we walk away from the mirror together.

“Let’s get moving, beauty.”

I have no choice but to comply.

My legs are still unsteady from everything that’s happened, but he doesn’t seem to care. And I’m too terrified to open my mouth again.

When we step into another room, I hear the muffled voice of another person first—his twin. He steps forward, his eyes locking with the man pressed behind me, and he nods. Almost immediately, the atmosphere in the room changes; now becoming more quiet, and cold.

A chill runs down my spine.

I look around this room, recognising it as a kitchen of sorts. There's a dining table in the centre, and a few dishes and utensils scattered all around the countertops.

It looks like everything has been put together at the very last minute.

The man holding onto me pushes me forward, forcing me further into this space.

His twin steps closer too, and as I look up to glance over at him, I’m met with the same cold intensity.

His expression is unreadable as my heart thuds painfully hard in my chest. I try to steady my breathing, but I can’t stop shaking.

“Take a seat, darling.”

He tells me, pointing to a chair at the table.

I don’t argue with him. I can’t argue with him.

So I do the only thing that I can do, and I move.

My legs feel numb as I pull the chair out, forcing myself to take a seat at the table.

The man who’s been holding onto me finally pulls away, moving to stand beside his twin.

Both men stand there, silent as they watch me, but I can’t look up at them.

I. Just. Can’t.

My mind is still racing with thoughts of my family.

Where are they?

Will they come for me?

Do they have any idea what’s happened?

I want to scream for help, but I know that it’ll do nothing.

I’m trapped here, completely at their mercy, and the realisation of this awful situation makes my stomach drop.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to push down the panic, but it’s too strong, too overwhelming.

The twin who was already here in this room steps forward, pushing a plate of toast in front of me. My mouth waters as I notice the thick spread of jam on both pieces of bread. My stomach tightens too as a sharp pang of hunger gnaws at me.

I hesitate as I stare at the toast, unsure if I can trust it after everything that has been done to me, when my body betrays me. The hunger is too much, and I can’t hold back any longer.

Reaching out for a slice, I bring it to my lips, fingers trembling as I move it closer.

I take a bite of the toast, chewing mechanically, the sweet taste of jam overpowering the bland bread.

It’s hard to swallow, but I force it down, taking another bite.

The hunger inside me only intensifies, and I’m desperate to satisfy that ache.

Though the food sits uncomfortably in my stomach, I continue eating.

For a moment, a small part of me wonders whether this might be poisoned, whether they wanted me to give in to this so they can watch me die slowly, obviously masters in this twisted game of theirs. The thought floats around in my head, and I almost welcome it.

With death, I’ll be free.

With death, I’ll be reunited with my mother.

The pain of this nightmare will end, and these men will never be able to have me.

But the other part of me—the part that’s desperate to fight to survive, that refuses to give up—tells me that I can’t think like this. I can’t give these men the satisfaction of seeing me break. I need to stay alive, and I need to return to my family.

My Mama would want me to survive, she would want me to keep on going.

Taking another bite, I feel both gazes burning hot into me.

They’re speaking softly again, languages changing between Russian and English, voices low so I’m not able to make out what they’re saying.

I raise my eyes, noticing the way they both have their eyes on me, and it only makes me squirm uncomfortably in my seat.

Choosing to ignore them both, I focus on finishing the food in front of me.

I force myself to finish both slices of toast, my stomach twisting with every swallow that I take.

I don’t care if I’ll be sick later—I need to eat now.

As I finish my last bite, I can’t shake off the feeling of dread crawling up my spine.

My fingers shake as I rest my hands back down on my lap.

My legs tremble beneath them, and I notice the dirt smeared all along my skin.

The silence in the room is thick with unspoken tension.

Neither one of the twins have said anything to me yet; they still haven’t told me what they want, or why they’re doing this.

Not knowing their intentions behind this is the worst part.

The twin who fed me speaks first, and my eyes glance up at him, noticing the way his eyes flicker all over my face as his jaw tightens when he speaks in Russian.

I don’t understand what he’s saying, but the intensity of his gaze, and the weight of his attention presses down on me.

His twin leans back slightly, his arms now folded across his chest. They’re standing so close together, it’s almost as if they’re waiting for something—waiting for me to react, waiting for me to break.

I won’t.

Not yet.

I’m not giving them that satisfaction.

My mind races as I continue thinking of a way to escape, but the reality of this situation is suffocating.

How can I run?

How can I scream?

They’ve taken me, and now I’m trapped.

The worst thing is I have zero idea of their intentions behind this.

Glancing back down to my lap, I notice how white my knuckles have become.

I force myself to relax, releasing a heavy breath out, trying to keep my composure.

Every nerve in my body screams at me to do something—anything—to make this stop, but I can’t.

It’s useless. Right now, I’m at their mercy, and the only thing I can do is wait.

Wait for them to tell me their reasoning behind this.

Wait for whatever it is that comes next.

When I glance up again, I spot the twins still watching me, like predators who are waiting for their next move.

Without warning, they both stalk towards me again, their movements fluid and predatory.

One twin steps forward, taking hold of my arm as he guides me up from the chair.

Again, I stumble, my legs still shaky, but I manage to stay on my feet.

Together, we walk back into the room I woke up in, and I can’t help but sink down onto the floor once we’re inside. My breath is coming out in shallow gasps as the exhaustion hits me hard, then both brothers drop down to their knees in front of me.

My chest squeezes, and my eyes widen.

“Please tell me.” I whisper breathlessly. “Why have you taken me?”

One laughs, but it’s not a pleasant sound.

It’s low, and it’s dark, and it sends a shiver down my spine. The other brother only shakes his head, his lips turning up at the corners, almost like he finds this all amusing.

The brother with the lip ring speaks first.

“Like I’ve already said, beauty, we want you.”

The other brother continues speaking.

“And we have you. What don’t you understand, darling?”

My bottom lip trembles as I blink furiously, trying my best not to cry.

“But why?” I whisper, feeling my throat becoming dry. “Why me?!”

They refuse to answer me.

Swallowing down my sobs, I shake my head slightly, the dizziness making my thoughts scatter all over. Slowly, the vision in front of me begins to split, like I’m seeing double now.

Two men become four; two pairs of identical faces staring straight at me, the same cold expression on all four faces.

I find it hard to breathe, because why would they ever want me?

Russians…Bratva…

There may have been an alliance between the Russians and the Italians, but I have no idea why they would risk breaking that by taking me. Even if we’re no longer part of it, I still grew up in the Mafia as a princess, and there’s no way the Don would ever let this slide. .

It’s betrayal.

“You’re Bratva.” I croak out, my eyes soon filling with tears. “What use am I to you?”

Their expressions harden at the sound of that word falling from my lips.

The silence that follows is deafening, and my heart skips a beat as fear rushes through my veins, seizing my lungs.

I should have realised it sooner.

I have no idea why I didn’t.

The Bratva.

The Russian mafia.

They’ve taken me, and now I’m trapped.

I’m a prisoner of theirs.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think.

I can’t move.

My body begins to tremble.

When I open my mouth again, my voice comes out shaky, and unsure.

“Why do you want me?” I ask. “I thought the Russians and the Italians were at peace. The men in my family are no longer involved, so whatever it is you think they have done, they haven’t. They are innocent, and so am I.”

My words are laced with fear as I rasp them out.

Jaws tighten as fingers curl into fists. The men look at each other, soft murmurs of Russian words passed between them.

And when they look back at me…

I can barely breathe.

This is bad.

So. Very. Bad.

Please God, don’t let me die the same way Mama did.

One opens his mouth to speak, but before I can hear what he has to say, the world around me begins to blur. My vision darkens at the edges, and the room spins. Again, my body betrays me.

I’m falling, falling, falling.

The last thing I hear is their voices, low and unintelligible, as my consciousness slips away.

The darkness claims me again.