Chapter 13
MARIYA
The sound of the door opening jolts me awake. I sit up fast, my heart already racing, my body tensing for whatever's coming next. The morning light streams through the barred windows, and I have to blink several times before my eyes adjust enough to see who's standing in the doorway.
Andrey.
He's wearing jeans and a dark T-shirt that stretches across his chest, and there's a smile on his face. An actual smile, wide and genuine, like he's excited about something. It's so unexpected that I just stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
"Get dressed," he says, his blue eyes bright with something I can't quite identify. "We're going on a treasure hunt."
I blink at him. "A what?"
"You heard me." He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement makes his biceps flex, and I force myself to look away. "Get ready. We leave in ten minutes."
Before I can ask any questions, he's gone, the door closing behind him with that familiar click as the lock engages.
I sit there for a moment, my mind racing through possibilities.
A treasure hunt? What the hell does that mean?
Is this some kind of trick? Some new way to torture information out of me?
But I don't have time to overthink it. If he says ten minutes, he means ten minutes. I scramble out of bed and grab the clothes he brought me yesterday, jeans, a T-shirt, and the sneakers. I dress quickly, running my fingers through my tangled hair and wishing I had time for a shower.
When I'm ready, I stand by the door and wait. My stomach is in knots, anxiety making my hands shake. Where are we going? What does he want from me now?
The door opens exactly ten minutes later. Andrey looks me over, his gaze lingering on my body in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly. I hate that I react to him like this.
"Come on," he says, gesturing for me to follow.
I step into the hallway, and the beast, Matvey, is there, standing like a silent sentinel.
His dark eyes track my movement, but his expression remains as blank as always.
The three of us walk through the estate, and I try to memorize the route again, but it's useless. This place is too big, too confusing.
We exit through a side door I haven't seen before, and there's a black SUV waiting in the driveway. Andrey opens the back door and gestures for me to get in. I hesitate, my mind screaming at me that this is a bad idea, that getting in that car could be the last thing I ever do.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Andrey says quietly, reading my hesitation. "I promise."
I don't believe him. But what choice do I have? I climb into the backseat, and he slides in beside me. Matvey takes the driver's seat, and within seconds, we're pulling out of the estate and onto the main road.
I watch the scenery pass by the window, trying to figure out where we're going. We drive through the city, past familiar streets and buildings, and then we're heading out toward the outskirts. The buildings become fewer and farther between, replaced by open fields and scattered trees.
My anxiety ratchets up with each passing mile. We're going somewhere remote. Somewhere no one will hear me scream.
"Where are we going?" I finally ask, my voice tight.
"You'll see," Andrey says.
That's not reassuring. Not even a little bit.
We drive for another twenty minutes, the landscape becoming more and more desolate. Finally, Matvey turns off the main road onto a dirt path that's barely visible through the overgrown grass. The SUV bounces over ruts and holes, and I have to grip the door handle to keep from being thrown around.
When we finally stop, we're in the middle of nowhere, just an empty field stretching out in all directions with a few scraggly trees and tall grass swaying in the breeze.
And in the center of it all, there's an old shack.
It looks like it's been abandoned for decades, the wood rotting and the roof sagging dangerously.
My blood runs cold.
They brought me here to kill me. That's the only explanation. They're going to bury my body out here where no one will ever find it. How many others are buried in this field? How many people have been here, in my shoes, realizing too late what's about to happen?
I don't move when Andrey opens the door. I can't move. My body is frozen, every muscle locked tight with terror.
"Mariya," Andrey says, his voice gentle, "come on."
"No." The word comes out as barely a whisper.
He crouches down so we're at eye level, his blue eyes searching my face. "I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. We're here to look for something."
"Look for what?" I demand, my voice shaking. "There's nothing out here but dirt and that death trap of a shack."
"That's what we're here to find out." He holds out his hand. "Trust me."
Trust him? Is he insane? I don't trust him. I can't trust him. But what am I supposed to do? Run? I wouldn't make it ten feet before the beast caught me. And even if I did somehow escape, where would I go? We're miles from anywhere.
I take his hand, hating myself for it, and let him help me out of the SUV. My legs are shaking so badly, I can barely stand. I scan the field, looking for any sign of disturbed earth, any indication that this is a burial ground. But all I see are grass and weeds.
Andrey keeps hold of my hand as we walk toward the shack.
The beast follows behind us, silent as always.
The closer we get, the worse the structure looks.
The wood is gray and splintered, the windows are broken, and the whole thing leans slightly to one side, as if a strong wind could knock it over.
"I'm not going in there," I say, stopping several feet away.
Andrey turns to look at me. "Why not?"
"Because it's going to collapse the second we step inside." I pull my hand free from his. "I'm not getting crushed to death in some abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere."
"It's sturdier than it looks," he says, but even he doesn't sound entirely convinced.
"Then you go in first."
He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Fair enough."
He walks up to the door, which is hanging off its hinges, and pushes it open. The wood groans in protest, and I hold my breath, waiting for the whole thing to come crashing down. But it doesn't. Andrey steps inside, disappearing into the darkness, and I hear his footsteps on the floorboards.
"See?" he calls out. "It's fine."
I don't move. My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my throat. This is insane. Completely insane.
"Mariya," Andrey says, reappearing in the doorway. "I need you to come inside. I'll explain everything, but I need you in here."
"Explain it now," I demand.
He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "Remember the note we found in the brooch? The one that said 'bayou'?"
I nod slowly.
"Matvey thinks it refers to this place. The old-timers used to call this field 'the bayou' because it was always wet and muddy.
There used to be meetings here, back before the Bratva had the power to operate openly.
" He gestures to the shack. "This was one of their safehouses.
And we think your father might have hidden something here. "
The words hit me like a physical blow. My father. He knew about this place? He hid something here?
"What do you think he hid?" I ask.
"I don't know. Maybe the heirlooms. Maybe something else." Andrey's expression softens. "But I need your help to find it. Please."
I look at the shack, then at Andrey, then at the beast standing behind me like a wall. I'm trapped, completely and utterly trapped. And if there's even a chance that my father left something here, something that might explain what happened or where he is, I have to look.
"Fine," I say. "But if that thing collapses on us, I'm haunting you for eternity."
Andrey's lips twitch in what might be a smile. "Deal."
I follow him inside, my body stiff and alert, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. The interior is even worse than the exterior. The floorboards are rotted in places, and there are holes in the walls where animals have made nests. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.
"What are we looking for?" I ask, my voice echoing in the empty space.
"Anything unusual," Andrey says. "Loose boards, hidden compartments, anything that looks like it's been disturbed recently."
We spread out, each of us taking a section of the small room. I move carefully, testing each floorboard before putting my full weight on it. My eyes scan every surface, looking for anything that might be a clue.
Minutes pass. Then ten minutes. Then twenty. We find nothing, just rot and decay and the remnants of whatever this place used to be.
I'm starting to think this is a waste of time when my foot comes down on a board that gives way beneath me. I don't even have time to scream before I'm falling, the wood splintering around me, and then I'm hitting the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
"Mariya!" Andrey's voice comes from above, panicked.
I lie there for a moment, stunned, trying to figure out if anything is broken. My back hurts where I landed, and my ankle is throbbing, but I can move everything. I'm okay. Mostly.
"I'm fine," I call up, my voice shaky.
I look around, and my breath catches. I'm not in a crawl space or a shallow hole. I'm in a room. An underground room with dirt walls and a low ceiling. It's dark, but enough light filters down through the hole I made that I can see the space is about ten feet by ten feet.
"There's a basement down here," I say, my voice filled with wonder.
Andrey's face appears in the hole above me. "Are you hurt?"
"No. But you need to see this."
Within seconds, both Andrey and the beast have lowered themselves down through the hole. Matvey pulls out a flashlight, and the beam cuts through the darkness, revealing more of the space.
It's empty except for a few old crates in one corner. But the walls are what catch my attention. They're not just dirt. They're reinforced with old wooden planks, like someone built this space to last.
"This was intentional," Andrey says, running his hand along one of the walls. "Someone built this as a hiding place."
We search the room methodically, checking every inch of the walls and floor. Matvey moves one of the crates, and behind it, I see something. A section of the wall that looks different from the rest. Newer, maybe, or just disturbed more recently.
"Here," I say, pointing.
Andrey comes over, and together we start pulling at the loose dirt. It comes away easily, revealing a hollow space behind it. And inside that space is a metal lockbox.
My heart stops.
I know that box. I've seen it before, years ago, in my father's study. He used to keep important documents in it, things he didn't want anyone else to see.
Andrey pulls it out carefully, setting it on the ground between us. It's covered in dirt and rust, but it's intact, locked tight.
"Do you know what's inside?" he asks, looking at me.
I shake my head, unable to speak. Because even though I don't know what's in the box, I recognize it.
It belonged to my father.