Chapter 25
The Prey
He was a drug dealer. Donatello Maroni, a wanted criminal. And you’re the one who killed him,” the officer said, his tone calm.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I said, my voice shaking.
He leaned forward slightly. “We’ve got your blood samples, Ms. Rosewood. If anything comes back suspicious, it won’t be looking good for you.”
“I told you, I was at work last night,” I insisted.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “The place you’re talking about has been closed for two years.” His gaze held mine. “Are you sure you’re not under the influence of something?”
“I’m not on drugs,” I said quickly. “And I’m not confused.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Here’s what we think happened,” he said. “You got into that meeting looking for something—money, drugs, whatever. Things went wrong. And now you’re claiming you were just… working.”
He paused.
“Does that sound about right to you?”
His words echoed in my mind, sowing seeds of doubt. I shook my head, trying to cling to my truth. “No, that’s not what happened.”
He sighed, feigning sympathy. “You might not remember it clearly, but deep down, you know it’s true. The evidence will prove it. You’re not a killer, Ms. Rosewood, just a desperate woman who made a mistake.”
“I told you I didn’t kill him!” I shouted and froze.
He chuckled softly. “Like I said, a desperate woman.”
“Denial is a powerful thing. Let’s talk about something else,” the officer said. “You say you work for Judas Romanovski. Do you even know who he is?”
I froze. “What are you talking about?”
He gave a small, knowing look. “We know more about you than you think. It’s all in your file. Late nights, unexplained absences. People notice things. They talk.”
“I told you,” I said quickly, “my work starts in the evening and ends around midnight.”
“Right,” he cut in. “And your father—he had a temper, didn’t he? Troubled man. Angry.”
My stomach dropped.
“People like that,” he continued, “sometimes pass it on. So tell me, Ms. Rosewood… did you lose control and kill him?”
My blood ran cold. How did he know about my father?
“Leave my family out of this,” I said.
The officer leaned back with a small, satisfied smile. “Touchy subject. Noted.”
He tapped the file in front of him. “The more you resist, the worse it looks. If you’re innocent, cooperate. Tell us what happened. Otherwise, you’re just making this harder on yourself.”
My chest tightened. “I’ve already told you the truth,” I whispered. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
He sighed like I were wasting his time. “That’s unfortunate. We were hoping you’d help yourself.”
The door opened.
A woman in a formal outfit walked in and placed a stack of documents on the table without a word.
She left just as quickly.
The officer flipped through the file. A slow smile spread across his face.
“Well, Ms. Rosewood…” he said. “Looks like we found something interesting.”
He looked up at me. “There are drugs in your system.”
I paled, my heart hammering in my chest. “That’s impossible,” I stammered. “I don’t do drugs.”
He leaned in, eyes sharp with cold amusement.
“The evidence isn’t helping you, Ms. Rosewood. First you lie about your work. Now there are drugs in your system. It doesn’t look good.”
I shook my head. “I was at work. The test must be wrong.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Or someone drugged you. And you just don’t remember what happened after you killed Maroni.”
My breath caught.
“That’s quite a story,” he went on. “Troubled background. A violent father.”
“Leave my family out of this,” I said sharply.
He gave a small chuckle, unfazed. “Your father was a known criminal. Maybe it runs in the family. Maybe you snapped, just like he did.”
He leaned back slightly.
“It would be easier for everyone if you just admitted it.”
“Guards!” he yelled, and two bulky men stormed in. He motioned to me. “Throw her in the jail.”
They grabbed me roughly by the arms, and panic surged through me. “No! Please, you have to believe me!” I cried out, struggling against their iron grips. But they were unyielding, dragging me down into the cold, sterile room.
The walls seemed to close in around me, the harsh fluorescent lights casting long, eerie shadows.
“Please, listen to me!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “My father wasn’t a criminal, and neither am I! You’ve got it all wrong!”
They didn’t care. They never had. The cell door slammed shut behind me. I stumbled and fell to my knees on the cold concrete.
For a moment, I just sat there—until it hit me.
“I’m innocent!” I cried, my voice breaking. “My father was an honorable man!”
I grabbed the bars and shook them, harder than I should have. Pain shot up my arms, but I didn’t stop. Until something warm slid down my fingers.
And I realised it was blood.
“I’m innocent!” I cried, sliding down the bars. “My father—he was a good man…”
Why me? I just wanted a normal life. Something for my mother.
Mama… she must be waiting. Cooking something warm, as she always did. Mikhail… my throat tightened. I pressed my knees to my chest, shaking.
The cell felt colder now. What was going to happen to me now?
Court. Evidence. A story I didn’t recognize being built around me. Who would do this to me? Why?
I stayed like that for another sometime when I heard voices and footsteps.
I looked up and the hollow ache was replaced by a surge of fright and anticipation.
My eyes widened for a fraction of a second as I lunged desperately at the bars to get his full view, hoping I was not imagining things.
It was Kyle, someone I least expected.
His eyes bore into mine. Then, without breaking his gaze, he turned to the police officers and spoke in rapid Russian, his tone low and commanding. I couldn’t process his words, but the effect was immediate and chilling.
The officer’s face paled visibly, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow as he glanced nervously at me. His hand trembled slightly as he fumbled with his radio, clearly shaken by whatever Kyle had said.
Confusion clouded my mind, and I stood on trembling legs, gripping the cold metal bars tightly.
I leaned forward, straining to catch any hint of the conversation, my heart pounding louder with each passing second.
The atmosphere thickened with tension, and a gnawing fear settled deep within me as I tried to make sense of the unfolding circumstances.
As much as I wanted to believe he was here for me, a part of me didn’t want him to be.
His presence brought a complex blend of hope and dread that I could barely process.
He spoke again, his voice a low, urgent rumble in Russian, and the officers immediately motioned to the guard behind them. The guard, expression grim and unreadable, began moving in my direction.
Panic surged through me, and I stepped back, pressing myself against the icy wall of the cell. My mind raced, fearing what his involvement might mean.
If Kyle was involved, that meant Judas was too.
And I didn’t know how that was supposed to calm me. Instead, it frightened me more.
The guard muttered something under his breath in frustration, his eyes flicking to my hands as I gripped the bars even tighter. He grumbled again, louder this time, the frustration clear in his tone.
He uncuffed my wrists, and I rubbed them together as he motioned me to follow him out. I hesitated, but then complied. Kyle didn’t look at me; instead, he gave an envelope to the officer and started walking out.
I stood there confused, not knowing whether to follow him or stand here. The officer noticed my hesitancy, and he cleared his throat.
Kyle smiled, but it barely reached his eyes. Slowly, I walked towards where Kyle was standing, my eyes darting to the officer who avoided my gaze and mumbled in English, “We apologize for the trouble.”
I swallowed, barely managing a nod, and felt the dam of emotions break inside me. I felt like a chess pawn, dragged into a mess I had no role in.
Something was wrong, but I was too confused to process it.
Nodding numbly, I followed Kyle as he motioned for me to come with him.
We walked out of the station, Kyle leading the way, his steps purposeful and brisk.
I looked around, feeling lost and uncertain.
My bags were at the dorm, and my missed flight loomed in my mind.
I had no idea if I could catch another one.
My legs trembled as I took a step towards the door where Kyle was standing now, with his back to me. Then another. And the more I walked towards the door, the scarier it got. Why did it… felt like… I was walking towards another prison?
But this time, it’d be deadlier.
As we walked out, the cold air frisked into my nostrils, and I shivered. Pulling down on the sleeves of my sweater, I sniffed and, with trembling fingers; I adjusted my glasses, but my vision was still blurry and I realised I was crying.
“Why… are you here?” I wanted to ask, but the words lodged in my throat, unable to escape. Cold. It was cold out here.
The brooding man in front of me slowly turned around, his gaze softened for a moment.
I could feel my pulse quickening, each beat echoing in my ears as I struggled to comprehend what was happening.
“Why?” I asked again this time, my vision cleared slightly as I blinked and tears rolled down my eyes. I harshly wiped my cheeks with the sleeves of my sweater and barely did anything to provide me with warmth.
I suddenly missed the coat my mother had bought for me. It was larger, warmer, and… close to home.
Kyle sighed, muttering something under his breath before glancing over his shoulder at something behind him. I followed his gaze, but there was no one—only parked cars. Taking a step back, I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Ignorance is bliss, Ms. Rosewood,” Kyle said softly. So he told me last evening.
I bit my lips shaking my head in disbelief. “Can we not talk in riddles, please? Why are you here?”
“That I cannot answer,”
I took a step back, feeling overwhelmed. I felt like I were drowning. My body was tired and tense, my heart raced, and I couldn’t catch my breath. My mind was a storm. Making decisions was hard, and I couldn’t focus. I was annoyed but infinitely scared. I either couldn’t process or think too much.
I just wanted a moment of peace, but it felt impossible to find.
Unsurprisingly, he took a step forward. “I don’t want to lose my hands, but if you try to run, I’d have to use force.”
Panic gripped me as I realized I had no escape.
The police station was behind me, but he held power over me, at least his demonic boss did.
I clenched my jaw as he asked me to follow him. My legs felt heavy, but I moved, my heart pounding in my ears. Like a puppet, I followed him to the black car. He stopped and opened the back door, motioning for me to enter.
I hesitated; my feet rooted to the spot as he stood beside me. I knew if I made a run for it, he’d catch me instantly. With a deep breath, I bent down to get into the car, my heart pounding.
And I wish I hadn’t.
I gasped, my eyes widening in shock.
Every emotion I had been feeling intensified tenfold.
Fear, anger, suffocation—everything surged through me with a force that left me trembling.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the man sitting casually inside.
His head was tilted to the side curiously, and though he wore shades, I felt his gaze piercing through me, cold and devious.
Fear gripped me like an iron vice, squeezing the air from my lungs. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest. My hands trembled uncontrollably, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. It was like being caught in a nightmare I couldn’t escape.
The urge to run, to scream, to fight back was there, but my body refused to obey.
I was paralyzed until I felt a slight push from behind, and my lack of balance had me tumbling into the car.
I didn’t get to process or fight as I landed on my hands and knees on the car floor.
Shiny leather boots blocked my vision, and I heard a faint click.
A finger hovered over the back of my nape, sending a shiver down my spine. I flinched, clenching my jaw, and more tears fell down.
I should’ve known.
“What… do you want?” I stammered, feeling his finger brushing the hair to the side.
I looked down at his feet and realised I was between his legs.
His hand slid from the back of my neck down to my chin, tilted my head up, forcing me to meet his eyes through the dark lenses of his shades. The sinister smile that played on his lips made my blood run cold.
He held me there in his clutches.
“Haven’t I made it clear already?” he menaced. His other hand trailed down my arm. He leaned forward, his breath hot against my ear, making my skin crawl. “Your mouth,” he chuckled, “around my cock.”