Chapter 5 – Iris
I sat in the back seat beside my captor, my wrists bound in front of me. The car’s cabin had been silent this whole time, filled only by the low hum of the engine.
My heart was racing because I had no idea where he was taking me. Maybe I should’ve taken my chances back in the neighborhood and screamed for help.
Who knows, maybe someone would’ve heard me cry out and come to rescue me? I remembered reading somewhere that it’s unwise to follow your kidnappers to a second location. Now I couldn’t help thinking that coming willingly was a bad idea.
He hadn’t looked at me since we got in the car, and somehow, that unsettled me even more. I glanced out the window, watching the rain slide down the glass in long crooked lines.
The car moved farther and farther away from the city, past streetlights, past buildings, until we were traveling along an unwinding path that snaked through towering trees.
I rolled my wrists on my lap, the restraints snug but not painful. It was useless to try and free myself—I’d tried that already. Didn’t work. The ropes were secured perfectly.
“Where are you taking me?” I faced him, my voice low and polite.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even bother looking in my direction.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”
Still no answer.
I let out a quiet sigh, overwhelmed with anxiety and uncertainty. “You do realize this is kidnapping, right?”
He adjusted subtly, the fine leather seat creaking beneath him.
“So what? You’re just gonna ignore me—act like you can’t hear a word I’m saying?”
He didn’t say anything.
I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Suit yourself.” I rested my head against the cool glass.
I was scared half to death in that car, unsure of what fate awaited me at this mystery location. But I couldn’t bring myself to show my vulnerability to the man who kidnapped me in the most bizarre way ever.
A million thoughts tugged at my mind as I imagined the different possible outcomes. And all of them ended up with me in a freaking casket.
I looked out the window again, trying to memorize the turns, but here was nothing left to memorize. Just more road, more rain, more trees blurring into a single black wall on either side of the car.
Wherever we were going, we were far from anywhere I knew, far from anyone who might come looking.
I let out a deep sigh.
After what seemed like an eternity, the car finally slowed, tires crunching over gravel.
A gate rose out of the darkness ahead of us. Iron, tall, flanked by stone pillars with cameras mounted on each one, their red lights blinking steadily in the rain.
The gate opened without anyone stepping out to check us. Someone was already watching.
I shifted in my seat, legs stiff from sitting still for so long.
The driveway beyond the gate wasn’t straight. It curved back and forth through the property in long, deliberate bends, trees lining both sides. Tall, old trees, branches heavy enough to blot out what little moonlight the clouds hadn’t already swallowed.
The headlights swept across them with every turn, throwing shifting shadows across the gravel.
A few bends later, the estate came into view, and my stomach dropped at the sight of it.
It wasn’t a house. No. It was something closer to a fortress. A mansion.
The building stretched wide and tall against the night sky, dark stone and dark windows. A fountain sat directly in front of the main doors, water still running despite the rain.
Statues lined the path leading up to the entrance, evenly spaced, expressions carved into something between watchful and cruel.
A flash of lightning revealed a pair of gargoyles crouched at the base of the front steps, one on each side.
Honestly, it felt like we’d just driven into Dracula’s estate because the place looked like something straight out of a Hollywood horror movie.
Men in black jackets stood near the entrance, and further out along the tree line, more of them moved slowly through the rain.
Guards. Cameras. A perimeter I couldn’t begin to guess the size of.
The car stopped at the front steps, and Ilya got out first, coming around to open my door himself instead of letting anyone else near me. His hand closed around my arm as he pulled me out, firm, not gentle, not cruel either. Just efficient.
Why was he being careful with me? Why did he choose to open the door for me himself? Whatever the reason, I was smart enough to know that that wasn’t an act of kindness.
Men like him didn’t have what it took to be kind.
I stepped out into the rain, and soon my hair was damp, strands sticking to my face. My semi-transparent nightgown was soaked, clinging to me like a second skin.
My twin peaks were exposed, as were the curves of my breasts. Instinctively, I clasped my hands over my chest, concealing what the drenched dress had revealed.
I rushed beside him, my bare feet tapping against the pavement as he led me up the long steps at the entrance.
Shaking like a wet duck, I followed him inside, my eyes immediately squinting, adjusting to the bright light.
The foyer alone was bigger than my entire apartment. Marble floors, polished to a shine that reflected the light from a chandelier hanging somewhere above us, the kind of fixture that probably cost more than I made in a year.
The air smelled faintly of cedar and something older.
I expected him to hand me off to one of the men by the door. He didn’t.
He led me through the foyer into what looked like a living room. High ceilings. State-of-the-art furniture. A fireplace. And a crystal chandelier.
The walls were lined with paintings in heavy, gilded frames, mostly portraits. Glass cabinets held antiques I couldn’t even guess the age of: old firearms, carved wooden boxes, and a set of chess pieces that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than someone’s home.
A staircase curved up from the far end of the room, wide and sweeping. More chandeliers hung above it, smaller than the one in the foyer but no less expensive-looking.
He led me up the stairs without slowing down, past hallway after hallway I didn’t get the chance to memorize, until we reached a door near the end of one corridor.
He unlocked it and pushed it open, guiding me inside without a single word.
The room he brought me to was large. Clean. A bed with sheets that looked untouched, a window overlooking the grounds, a small reading chair in the corner, and a fifty-inch flat-screen TV mounted on a wall.
Whoa…okay. What’s going on here?
At first, I thought it was his bedroom. But judging by the simplicity of the space, I concluded that it had to be a guest room.
But why did he bring me here?
He guided me to the chair by the window. “Sit.”
“Oh, he still speaks. I was afraid you’d lost the ability,” I said, masking my unease with dry humor.
I settled into the chair.
He crouched in front of me and reached for the restraints. I pulled back on instinct, my wrists jerking away from him before my brain caught up with what I was doing.
“Hold still,” he said. Quiet. Not a request.
I held still, mostly because I didn’t see another option.
His fingers worked the ropes loose, brushing my skin for only a second, barely anything at all.
My pulse jumped anyway, hard and sudden, and I hated the feeling that coursed through me. His touch was electric, stealing my breath. Literally.
The scent of his cologne was intoxicating so close, and I found myself watching him closely as he loosened the ropes that bound me.
I flinched at the sudden thunderclap outside, my breath hitching in my throat. He, on the other hand, didn’t move at all. He just kept at what he was doing.
Each time his fingers grazed my skin, something strange swelled within. I didn’t have a name for it yet. And honestly, maybe it was best to keep the feeling nameless.
I tried to look away from him, but some invisible force kept me glued. I hated it, especially because he’d already caught me staring a few times.
“Why are you doing this?” I pulled my wrists free the second the restraints were removed. “Why did you bring me here?”
He raised his head and met my gaze. The second his eyes locked onto mine, I felt it again—that strange feeling in my chest.
“Because it’s the safest place for you to be right now.”
“That’s ironic, coming from a man who literally kidnapped me,” I said.
“Better kidnapped than dead.” His gaze stayed on me, his voice husky and strangely soothing.
My brows furrowed, deepening the confusion in my gaze.
“Outside these walls, Iris, you wouldn’t last a day,” he explained. “The Bratva have their eyes on you now. You leave, you die.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed against the sudden dryness in my throat.
The fact that Tarasov Imports was affiliated with the Russian Bratva just meant that I was in even bigger trouble than I thought.
“So, I’m supposed to take your word for it and just believe you’re only interested in keeping me safe?” I asked.
“Believe whatever you want.”
A pause.
I knew deep down he didn’t want me dead. If he did, I’d be dead already.
“Why?” I asked, my eyes boring into his cold blue ones, my voice quieter than I intended. “Why didn’t you just kill me yourself?”
Something moved behind his eyes, there and gone before I could name it.
“You ask too many questions.” He rose to his feet, spine straight, jaw locked. “Get some rest.”
I watched him turn and walk out, the door clicking shut behind him. A second later, I heard the lock slide into place from the other side.
Great.
I hadn’t fully grasped how messy my life had become. But one thing was certain: Nothing would ever be the same again.
Being entangled with the Russian Bratva meant my life as I knew it was over. That terrified me more than anything else.
Ilya claimed he was only trying to protect me, and although part of me wanted to believe him, some things just didn’t add up.
He barely knew me. So why the sudden interest in saving my life?
Hiding a stranger that his organization was after without having anything to gain in return didn’t seem like something a man like him would do.
He was definitely up to something.
The sooner I figured out what it was, the better for me.