39. Thirty-Nine
THIRTY-NINE
WRENLY
T he ground was hard and the air was cold. I opened my eyes to find myself still in the metal cage I had fallen asleep in. My body ached from the unforgiving steel bars pressing into my flesh and the frigid draft seeping in through the narrow bars. The dingy gray walls of the warehouse stretched out before me, illuminated only by the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. How long had I been trapped in this miserable prison? Hours? Days? Time seemed to blur together in an endless monotony of despair. At some point in my journey, I had procured a black jacket, and it smelled sweet like jasmine, the only reprieve in the musty confines I was trapped in.
I slowly sat up, my muscles protesting with each movement. Reaching out, I gripped the icy bars, pulling myself to my feet. The cage was barely large enough for me to stand, my head brushing against the low ceiling. Through the dimness, I could make out the shadowy outlines of other cages stretching into the distance. Low moans and whimpers echoed through the cavernous space.
I strained my eyes, trying to discern any sign of life or movement in the neighboring cages. A sudden cough broke the eerie stillness, followed by a weak, raspy voice. “You’re finally awake.”
I hesitated, unsure whether to respond. I turned in the direction of the voice, making out a small figure in the adjacent cage. A woman’s face emerged from the shadows, a pair of cognac eyes staring back at me. There was dirt smudged on her face, but there was no denying the classy beauty underneath.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice hoarse from disuse. “How long have you been here?”
The woman shifted, her movements slow and labored. “I’m Luna,” she replied. “I’ve been here for . . . I don’t know. A couple of days? What day is it?”
“Saturday, the 5th, I think.”
“Um . . . then it’s been seven days now.”
“Do you know where we are? Or why we’re here?”
She leaned forward, her delicate hands gripping the bars of her cage. “I wish I knew. One night, I was walking home from work, when someone grabbed me from behind. The next thing I knew, I woke up in this cage.” She shuddered at the memory. “I’ve heard others screaming and begging to be let go. But no one ever comes except to bring us food and water.”
“Have you seen who brings the food?” I asked.
Luna shook her head. “They always come when we’re sleeping. I’ve tried staying awake, but . . .” She trailed off, her eyes haunted. “It’s like they know. They wait until we’re too exhausted to resist.”
I cursed under my breath. Our captors were clever, ensuring we remained weak and disoriented. I rattled the bars of my cage, testing their strength. They held firm, unyielding against my efforts.
“Who’s Theo?” she asked.
“What?” I breathed, turning my attention back to her.
“When you were sleeping, you kept calling his name?”
“He’s . . . my fiance.”
Her eyes softened with understanding. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. She sensed my sadness and changed the subject. “So, any plans for escaping this dump?” She jangled her cage bars for emphasis. Despite our grim circumstances, there was an indomitable spark in her eyes that I admired.
I was about to respond when the loud screech of metal hinges echoed through the warehouse, causing both of us to freeze in fear. The heavy door at the room’s far end swung open, and the sound of footsteps reverberated off the concrete floor. Luna and I exchanged a worried glance.
A tall, broad-shouldered man emerged from the shadows, his features obscured by the dim lighting. He strode purposefully down the aisle, his heavy boots thudding with each step. As he drew closer, I could see the cruel set of his jaw and the cold, calculating look in his ice-blue eyes.
Igor.
The man from the bar. The same man who’d tortured Theo, leaving scars all over his body. He stopped in front of my cage, his gaze sweeping over me with amusement. “Well, well, well,” he drawled in his thick Russian accent. “Look who’s finally decided to join the land of the living.”
I glared at him, refusing to be intimidated. “What do you want, you sick bastard?” I spat.
He chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough, malen’kaya ptichka. But first, let’s have a little chat, shall we?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key. With a deft twist of his wrist, he unlocked the door to my cage. It swung open with a rusty creak.
“Come on out,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Or what?” I argued anyway.
His eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the cage, my legs unsteady beneath me. He grabbed my arm roughly, his fingers digging into my skin as he yanked off the black jacket I had woken up in the cage with, tossing it to the ground before dragging me forward.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said with a sinister grin. “We have much to discuss.”
He led me away from the cages, and I glanced back at Luna, fear etched on her face. I tried to give her a reassuring nod, but my own heart pounded wildly in my chest. His grip tightened as we approached a small room at the end of the warehouse. He shoved me inside and entered, slamming the door shut behind us. The room was bare except for a metal basin filled with water and a single metal chair bolted to the floor, its surface stained with dark, ominous splatters. Igor pushed me into the chair, yanking my arms behind my back and securing them. He circled me like a predator stalking its prey.
“Now,” he began, “this isn’t why you’re here, but let’s talk about your beloved Theo.”
My blood ran cold at the mention of his name. “What about him?” I asked, pretending to be calmer than I was.
He chuckled darkly. “Did he tell you about me?”
“Why would he? You’re insignificant to him,” I spat.
His face contorted with rage at my words. In a flash, his hand struck my cheek, the force of the blow snapping my head to the side. Pain bloomed across my face as I tasted the coppery tang of blood.
“You’d be wise to watch your tongue,” Igor snarled, leaning in close. His breath was hot against my skin, reeking of cigarettes and stale vodka. “Theo and I have unfinished business. And you, my dear, are the key to settling that score.”
I glared at him defiantly. “He’s stronger than you think.”
Igor’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “We will see about that. But first, let’s have some fun, shall we?” He turned toward the metal basin, plunging his hand into the water. “Tell me. How much does he value your life?”
I watched with growing dread as he removed his hand from the basin, water dripping from his fingers. Then, with a sadistic gleam in his eye, he turned back to me.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” he said.
He approached me slowly, like a cat toying with its prey. I struggled against my restraints, but they held fast, the metal biting into my skin. Igor stood before me, looming over my helpless form.
“He will come for me,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to project courage I didn’t feel. “And when he does, you’ll regret ever laying a hand on me.
Igor let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, I’m counting on him coming. That’s the whole point, you foolish girl.” He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from mine. “But by the time he gets here, you’ll be nothing but a broken shell of yourself. And he’ll have no choice but to watch as I destroy everything he holds dear. ”
I met his gaze head-on, defiance burning in my eyes. “You underestimate him. And me.”
His hand shot out, gripping my chin painfully. “Everyone has a breaking point,” he said, running his finger down the front of my body, pausing to grab my breasts. “And I’m going to enjoy finding yours.” He unhooked me from the chair and dragged me to the basin, pushing me down to my knees. His grip tightened on the back of my neck, pushing my head closer to the water’s surface. The cold metal of the basin pressed against my neck, and my terrified reflection stared back at me.
His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he leaned down next to my face. “Shall we begin?” he asked.
With a sudden shove, he plunged my head into the icy water. The shock hit me like a thousand needles, stealing the breath from my lungs. I thrashed against his hold, but his grip was unyielding, and I had no leverage with my hands restrained behind my back. Just as my vision began to blur and darken at the edges, he wrenched me back up, gasping and sputtering, gulping in desperate breaths.
He watched me with a sadistic grin, relishing in my suffering. “Do you not remember me, krasivaya devushka ?”
“What can . . . I say . . .? You’re easy to . . . forget.”
His eyes darkened with malice. “Wrong answer.” He shoved my head back under the water, holding me down longer. My lungs screamed for air as I struggled futilely against his iron grip. Again, black spots danced in my vision before he yanked me back out. My lungs burned with each ragged inhale, my body trembling from the cold and the terror coursing through my veins.
He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. “You think you’re so brave, don’t you?” he sneered. “But I see the fear in your eyes. You’re just like all the others—weak, pathetic, and easily broken.”
I glared at him through the wet strands of hair plastered to my face. “I’m not . . . afraid of . . . you,” I lied. “You’re nothing . . . but a . . . coward.”
His face contorted with rage, and he slammed my head against the edge of the basin. Stars exploded behind my eyes as pain radiated through my skull .
“I’ll show you who the real coward is,” he growled.
“Go to hell,” I rasped.
He dragged me back to the chair and shoved me down, securing my arms and legs with rough rope. I winced as the coarse fibers bit into my skin, rubbing it raw. He traced his finger along my jawline, and I jerked my head away in disgust.
“So defiant, moya dorogaya ,” he mused.
He picked up a pair of pliers from a tray of tools. The metal gleamed dully in the dim light. “Your father was defiant too . . . until I killed him and your whore mother.” The pliers clamped down on the tip of my index finger, the pressure increasing until a scream tore from my throat, echoing off the dank walls. Pain exploded in my hand as he wrenched the nail from its bed, blood dripping onto the grimy floor.
He killed my parents.
“You . . . you killed my parents?” I whispered.
He smirked, relishing in my anguish. “Oh yes. Your father was a stubborn man, refusing to humble himself and work with my brother. Selling women is a good business deal. But your father thought he was better than us. His whole organization thought they were better. A bunch of self-righteous ublyudki ! And my brother will not be humiliated by the likes of an American.”
“I’ll kill you for what you’ve done.”
He laughed. “Empty threats from a helpless little girl.” He tossed the bloody nail aside and selected another finger. “You have spirit. I’ll give you that. But it won’t save you. Or your precious Theo.”
I clenched my jaw, steeling myself for the next onslaught of agony. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream again. As the pliers closed around my middle finger, I bit down hard on my tongue, tasting blood. A muffled groan escaped my lips as he ripped out the second nail. The pain was excruciating, radiating through my entire hand and up my arm. But I refused to give him what he wanted. I focused on the image of Theo’s face in my mind, drawing strength from the love and memories we shared. He and this baby were my anchors—my reasons to endure.
Igor didn’t stop. He watched me with cruel amusement. “Impressive,” he mused, dropping the bloody nail onto the tray with a soft clink. “Most would be a sobbing mess by now, begging for mercy. But not you. You’re a fighter, aren’t you? I can see why Theo loves you. Why your parents fought so hard to keep you safe.”
I glared at him, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Theo will make you pay for this,” I rasped.
He chuckled as he wiped his hands on a stained rag. “Yes, krasotka . Your prince will come charging in to save his damsel, and then I’ll have you both exactly where I want you.” He leaned in close, his nose nearly touching mine. The stench of his breath made my stomach churn. “But he’s going to be too late to save you from what I have planned next.”
“You seem to have quite the hard-on for my fiance,” I scoffed, hiding my pain behind my laughter.
He straightened and picked up a knife from the tray. “You know, the night I ran your family off the road, I watched you twirl around like a little minx at the ball. You even danced with me once, too high on a pedestal to realize who I was behind the mask. I complimented you on your dress and laughed as I realized your parents and the rest of The Brotherhood had no idea they had a fox in their chicken coop. I followed you, running your car off the road before your father knew what happened. I watched as they died in that crash, and you and your brother would have met the same fate if it weren’t for Theo and his friends. The whole Morgan Dynasty was almost wiped out in one fell swoop. But then I watched him carry you out of the wreckage—how he looked at you at the ball that night and again when he saved you. They write stories about things like that. So imagine my delight when I realized The Brotherhood had sent their Ghost to seek revenge.” He pressed the cold blade against my cheek, tracing a line down my jaw. I held perfectly still, not daring to move. “I could have killed him that night,” he continued. “But where would the fun have been in that? No, I wanted him to suffer. To cut pieces of him away bit by bit until I broke his soul. He may be a ghost, but even ghosts can bleed.”
Bile rose in my throat as Igor recounted the night that haunted my every waking moment, the night that had shattered my world into a million irreparable pieces. Hot tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision, but I refused to let them fall.
Theo had saved me as much as I had saved him. We were two broken pieces that fit together, mending each other’s shattered edges. And now, this asshole threatened to tear us apart once more.
“You’re a monster.” I swallowed hard, trying to quell the fear in my throat.
“Monster?” He laughed. “I prefer to think of myself as an artist. And you, like many others, are my masterpiece in the making.”
He brought the knife down to my thigh, the cold metal pressing against my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. With a swift, precise motion, he sliced through the material, exposing my flesh. I inhaled sharply as the blade nicked my skin, a thin line of blood welling up. He watched me, a cruel smile on his face, before he ripped and cut the remaining fabric from my body, taking his time as he roughly fondled my breasts and shoved his hand between my legs before leaving me bare before him.
“Such a shame to mar this perfect canvas,” he mused, his eyes roaming over my body with a predatory gleam. “But every work of art requires sacrifice.”
He cut into my thigh, the knife slicing deep. I bit back the scream in my throat, not wanting to give this sick fucker the satisfaction of knowing I was in pain.
“I’m going to carve you up, piece by piece. And when Theo finds your broken, mutilated body, he’ll know that he failed you. That he couldn’t protect the woman he loves. It will destroy him. His rage will make him reckless. And when he’s on his knees, begging for your life. I’ll savor every moment of his despair before I slit his throat in front of you.”
The image of Theo, broken and bleeding, flashed through my mind, and a raw, primal scream tore through my throat. I thrashed against my restraints, not caring as the ropes cut deeper into my flesh.
“I’ll kill you!” I screamed, my voice raw and furious. “I swear to god, I’ll rip your fucking heart out!”
He watched my outburst with amusement. “There’s that fire,” he purred. “Save your strength, krasota . You’re going to need it.” He glanced at his watch, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “It’s almost time for our next session. But first, I think we should give your beloved Theo a little preview of what’s to come.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. My eyes widened in horror as he turned the phone’s back camera toward me, a beeping sound signaling he was on a FaceTime call. “Smile for the camera, sweetheart,” he taunted. “Let’s give your betrothed a show he won’t soon forget.”
He propped it up on a nearby table, angling it to capture my bound, bleeding, naked form. I turned my face away, refusing to look at the phone.
“Now, don’t be shy,” he chided, grabbing my chin roughly and forcing me to face the phone. “We want him to see every exquisite detail of your suffering. Tell him how much it hurts. Beg him to save you.”
I set my jaw, refusing to answer.
“Silent treatment, hmm? No matter. Your screams will do.”
With a sudden, vicious motion, he plunged the knife back into my thigh. A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it, echoing off the damp walls. Pain exploded through my leg, white-hot and blinding. Blood gushed from the wound, dripping onto the ground.
He yanked the knife out, admiring the crimson staining the blade. “Beautiful,” he breathed, running his tongue across it. “Absolutely exquisite.”
Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the blood and grime. But still, I refused to beg. “Is that all you’ve got?” I taunted through gritted teeth. “I’ve had paper cuts that hurt worse.”
Fury contorted Igor’s features, and he untied me from the chair and slammed my back into the ground, my hands still bound. The knife trailed down my neck, the point digging in just above my collarbone. I held my breath, bracing for the agony. When the sound of his jeans unzipping filled my ears, dread consumed me. He forced my legs apart, kneeling between them.
“You want to play tough, suka ? Let’s see how tough you are when I’m done with you.”
He sheathed his knife and grabbed my hips, yanking me toward him. I thrashed and fought, kicking my legs, but he merely laughed, backhanding me hard across the cheek. Dazed, I could only watch in horror as he freed himself from his jeans.
His hand closed around my throat, squeezing. “Struggle all you want,” he sneered. “It only makes it better for me,” he breathed in my ear. “You might enjoy it.” His hot, fetid breath made me gag. “Your husband is watching. Let’s give him a good show, shall we?”
Tears leaked from my eyes, but I fixed my gaze on a crack in the roof. I wouldn’t look at him or let him see how he was breaking me. I couldn’t let Theo see my face as the life left my eyes. Igor forced himself into me with a brutal thrust, tearing through my core as I tried to clench my muscles and keep him out of me. A scream bubbled up from my throat as an explosion of pain consumed my entire being. He pounded into me mercilessly, grunting with each violent snap of his hips. Bile rose in my throat as his sweat dripped onto my skin, his weight crushing me, suffocating me.
“Look at the camera,” he snarled, gripping my jaw and wrenching my face toward the phone. “Let him see your pain. Let him see how I’m destroying you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears streaming down my temples. I couldn’t bear for Theo to witness this, to see me so broken and defiled. But Igor’s fingers dug into my cheeks, his nails cutting crescents into my skin. “ Look !” he roared.
Sobbing, I forced my eyes open, staring directly into the camera. I prayed Theo would see beyond my tears, beyond the devastation etched into every line of my face. I prayed he would see the love, the apology, the goodbye. Because in this moment, I knew I wouldn’t survive this. Igor would use me until nothing was left, a husk of the woman Theo loved.
And I couldn’t let that be his last memory of me. Summoning every shred of strength, I mouthed the words, “I love you,” to the phone, hoping he could read my lips through the haze of tears and agony. Igor slammed into me one final time, his body stiffening as he found his release.
Revulsion shuddered through me as he collapsed on top of me, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. He rolled off me with a satisfied grunt, tucking himself back into his jeans. I lay there, broken and bleeding, my body no longer my own.
He ended the call, putting the phone back into his pocket. The cold concrete bit into my bruised skin, the chill seeping into my bones. With a groan, I rocked myself to a sitting position, every muscle screaming in protest. He watched me with a cruel smirk, his eyes roaming over my exposed flesh with a sick sort of appreciation. “Look at you,” he sneered. “Still trying to be strong. It’s almost admirable, in a pathetic sort of way.”
“Fuck you.”
He crouched down to my level. “I already did that, and I quite enjoyed it. I can understand why Theo is so taken by you. That sweet pussy between those legs is divine.”
I recoiled from his vulgar words. Mustering what strength I had left, I gathered the blood and saliva in my mouth and spat it directly onto his face.
He wiped the bloody spittle from his cheek, and quick as a viper, his hand shot out, gripping my throat in a vice-like hold. Black spots danced in my vision as I gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. Just as darkness threatened to pull me under, he released his grip and threw my body to the ground. He stood up, looming over my battered form.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.” He kicked me hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me. I curled into myself, gasping for air as pain lanced through my side.
He stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind himself. I didn’t know how long I lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness.