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"Ahmet," I greet him, my voice neutral despite the hatred I feel toward him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
He studies me for a moment, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to see how you're settling in. It's not every day we have such an esteemed guest."
I can't help the bitter laugh that escapes me. "Esteemed? Is that what you call someone you've kidnapped and held against their will?"
Ahmet shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that belies the tension in the room. "Semantics, Mrs. Sidorova. You're here because of circumstances beyond your control—and mine."
I eye him warily, trying to gauge his intentions. "And what circumstances would those be?"
"The game is bigger than you, bigger than your husband. This," he gestures around the room, "is about settling scores, about balance."
I clench my fists, frustration bubbling within me. "And where do I fit into this grand scheme of yours?"
Ahmet leans in, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're the key, Mariya. The key to ensuring Damien does what needs to be done. But," he says, then pauses, his eyes softening ever so slightly, "I've heard about your condition." Ahmet's voice trails off, and I feel a chill run down my spine. "Rest assured, no harm will come to you or your child."
He continues, his tone shifting to a more calculated, almost sly cadence. "But I do recommend you get comfortable, Mariya. You see, having you here is beneficial. You're a valuable tool to leverage against your husband and the Bratva."
He pauses, a smug smile creeping across his face. "In fact, your presence here is so advantageous, I might keep you until we've pushed the Bratva right out of Moscow. Who knows?" His chuckle is indifferent, devoid of any warmth. "Perhaps your child will even speak Turkish as their first language."
The words hit me like a physical blow, igniting a fury deep within. The very idea of being a bird in a cage, a mere pawn in his twisted game, is infuriating. But I suppress the rising tide of anger, keeping my emotions in check. Now isn't the time to reveal my true feelings.
Instead, I force a neutral expression, focusing on the plan slowly forming in my mind. "Well, I suppose time will tell, won't it, Ahmet?" I say, my voice steady, giving nothing away.
"Indeed, time is a curious thing, Mariya," he says, a sardonic edge to his voice. "It reveals truths and unravels the best-laid plans. Be wise about how you spend yours here."
His words hang in the air like a veiled warning, a reminder of the precariousness of my situation. There's a flicker of something in his gaze, a fleeting glimpse into the mind of a man who's seen far too much and trusts far too little.
With a final, piercing look, he turns and exits, the door closing with a soft but final click. I'm left alone once more, his words lingering like a shadow. But it's his parting glance, that brief moment of unguarded thought, that ignites a spark within me.
As the door closes behind Ahmet, leaving me to my thoughts, a plan begins to crystallize in my mind. But first, I need something crucial to set it in motion.
I wait for the right moment when Ahmet returns to perform his daily check-in. It's become part of his routine ever since he found out I was pregnant—a way to assert his control, I suspect. Today, I greet him with a request, masking my intentions behind a veneer of innocence.
"Ahmet," I begin, my voice light and almost playful. This room—it's so dreary. If you're planning to keep me here indefinitely, could I at least have some flowers to brighten up the place? I can’t imagine a man like you would deny a pregnant woman’s simple request."
I watch his face, looking for any sign of suspicion, but there’s none. He appears almost amused, as if indulging a child’s whim. "Flowers, eh? Well, I suppose that's a harmless enough request. What kind do you want?"
I take a deep breath, feigning a moment of thought. "Oleanders," I say with a bright smile. "They have such a lovely appeal, don’t you think?"
The name doesn't seem to ring any bells for him, and why would it? Oleanders, with their delicate blooms and inviting appearance, are the perfect cover. What Ahmet doesn’t know is that they’re incredibly poisonous when ingested. A fact I plan to use to my advantage.
"Oleanders, then," he shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. "I'll have someone bring them to you."
As he leaves, I can barely contain the triumphant smile threatening to break through my facade. This is the first step, the opening move in a game of survival and escape. I won't be a passive player in Ahmet's twisted plans any longer.
In the solitude of my room, I start preparing mentally for what comes next. I need to be ready, to be alert for the moment when my opportunity arrives. The oleanders are just a piece of the puzzle, but they're a significant one. With their arrival, I’ll have a potent weapon at my disposal.
Chapter 28
Damien
The moment the plane's wheels kiss the tarmac, a sense of dogged determination surges through me. Istanbul sprawls below, a tapestry of ancient streets and modern skyline, the Bosphorus shimmering under the afternoon sun. It's a city steeped in history, and I am about to add my own desperate chapter to its vast narrative.
It has taken three torturous weeks to get the information I needed to make this trip. I couldn’t just run around Turkey with no idea where I was going. It is enemy territory, and I needed every advantage I could find to get me safely to Mariya.
Navigating through customs requires a great deal of patience and restraint. The agent eyes me with suspicion, his gaze lingering a beat too long on my passport. I offer terse answers, my mind racing ahead to the streets of Istanbul, to the neighborhood district of Beyoglu, my best lead on Mariya's location.
Finally, I step out of the airport and into the pulsing heart of the city. Istanbul is a blend of the old and the new, a crossroads of the world where cultures collide and coexist. But I have no time for its charms. My mission is singular—find Mariya before Ahmet and his men realize I'm here.
