Chapter 28
The Prey
Iran.
As far as my feet could take me.
My chest burned. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I hammered the elevator button.
What terrified me most wasn’t seeing him; it was not seeing him. Like he already knew I’d run and was patient enough to let me. Because we’d both end up in the same place anyway.
The doors shut behind me. I slid down the cold metal wall, shaking so hard my sobs barely sounded human.
Why me?
Of all the people in the world... why did he choose me?
I buried my face in my hands. My lips still throbbed. Few hours were all it taken for him to turn my life inside out.
Even I shut my eyes, I see him.
Cold eyes. Cruel smile.
I had to keep running. I just feared I was already too late.
For him, this was just a game. And he enjoyed every second of it.
There was no reasoning with men like him. They liked to hunt. To make their prey feel helpless. I told myself I was imagining it. But my heartbeat called me a liar. I’d seen the promise in his eyes. He wasn’t finished with me.
The elevator doors slid open. I forced myself onto unsteady legs, ignoring the stares. Just keep walking. Breathe. My pulse stumbled when I saw the guards.
Their hands were pressed to their earpieces, their eyes sweeping the lobby. My mouth went dry. He’d found me already.
Maybe they weren’t here for me. I didn’t believe that for a second. The doors hadn’t closed before I stepped back inside. Anything but the front entrance. I pressed the button, and the doors closed. The elevator descended, and I tried to calm my racing heart. I need a plan and I needed it fast.
The elevator took forever. Each floor felt like another chance for him to catch up. I dug my nails into my palms. The doors opened with a chime that sounded far too loud. I peeked out first. And it was empty. Or empty enough.
I kept to the wall when I heard voices. My blood ran cold. I couldn’t understand the words. I didn’t need to. The exit was nowhere in sight. Breathe. But my body ignored the order.
I dropped behind the nearest car, my hands shaking harder than I cared to admit.
The voices grew louder, sounding suspicious, and I could almost feel their eyes searching for me. I crawled behind the cars. To my relief, after a minute or so, the voices drifted away.
I exhaled shakily, attempting to calm myself, though it seemed impossible.
If I stayed here, they might come back and take me back to him. Just as I was about to stand up, I heard a ding from the elevator.
My blood ran cold, and I stiffened.
Looking around frantically, I spotted a large truck parked a few feet away. There was enough space underneath to hide. Without thinking, I crawled toward it and ducked underneath.
The garage fell silent except for the echo of footsteps.
I peeked under the truck. Polished brown shoes. Dark trousers. Like he already knew where I’d end up. Something gleamed in his hand. My stomach dropped. I knew those shoes. I knew that walk.
I muffled my whimpers with my palms, shutting my eyes tightly.
No, no, no.
His footsteps echoed closer. My heartbeat drowned out everything else. Don’t move. The blade caught the light as he walked.
How had I been stupid enough to miss it?
I shouldn’t have provoked him. Now he’d hunt me. He promised he would. Idiot. How had my life come to this?
I was supposed to be hiding from deadlines, not a homicidal man with a personal vendetta.
I held my breath as his footsteps grew closer menacingly.
I could almost hear his disturbed laughter in my head, haunting me.
He was a psycho, an unbalanced man who took pleasure in the hunt and relished the fear he instilled in his prey.
My breath hitched as I tried to stay silent, praying he wouldn’t find me.
What startled me most was how he could walk in here without his cane. My eyes widened in realization. Did... did I assume everything wrong? There was no way he could see, right?
I strained to listen, my mind racing with confusion and terror. Had he been faking it all along? The thought sent a new wave of panic coursing through me. If he could see, if he had been pretending, I was in even more danger than I’d imagined.
My all fears faded and converted into one as his voice cut through the silence, making my bones chill. “I know you’re here, Ptichka,” he taunted.
This wasn’t just a game to him, but a twisted chase, and I was his prey. This closed space was doing no good. I couldn’t possibly tackle a man twice my size and thrice my weight with a blade in his hand. And even if I did, what was the possibility I could leave this country?
The polished leather shoes stopped right in front of the truck. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that he wouldn’t look down.
If and only if I could turn back time and never come to Russia. Only if I had never been born. This man was cruel. He sliced the throat of a man and framed me for it, and now he was chasing me down.
“Come out, Ptichka, there’s nowhere to hide,” he said as I held my breath. “Or do a better job at hiding, if I find you, I will ruin you.”
He let out a sigh, and to my relief, he turned around and started walking the other way.
I watched silently, afraid he could hear my heart pounding.
Then he disappeared behind the pillars on the other side.
It took me a minute to make sure he was really gone.
I couldn’t see him. I let out the breath I had been holding.
I planted my hands on the rugged cemented floor as I tried to pull myself from under the truck.
Patience. I should’ve had patience. Cause the next second I regretted being born.
It all happened in just a second. A scream echoed in the basement—mine.
A hand wrapped around my ankle, and I was dragged out of my hiding spot, my hand desperately and instinctively moved to grab something and nails scratched against the cemented floor, one breaking in the process, but that didn’t matter, the pain couldn’t suppress the terror.
He manhandled me, twisting my ankle with brutal force that sent a jolt of pain shooting up my leg. His grip was ironclad and merciless. As he dragged me out from under the truck, my skin scraped against the rough concrete, adding to the agony.
My whole body froze when he pressed the cold, sharp blade against my throat, the metal biting into my skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.
His face was mere inches from mine, and he grinned.
His dimples, which might have seemed charming to anyone else, made him appear even more psychotic.
Eyes glinted with twisted pleasure, and his grin sinisterly widened.
Hot breath fanned my face, faintly of cigarettes and something raw. The dimples deepened, and his eyes, once pretending to be unfocused, were now sharp and piercing, locking onto mine with a predatory gleam.
“Found you, Ptichka,” he whispered. “Now it’s time to play.”
His eyes, for the first time, focused and did not waver.
He was not blind.