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But what if he didn’t? What if escaping is as simple as turning a doorknob?
I scan the apartment once more for any signs of Viktor before I set my sights on the door and hurry towards it. When I pass the library, I freeze and look around to make sure it’s empty before continuing. I march to the front door and reach for the knob with a shaky hand. When I turn the handle, I hear a click and am shocked when it opens. The cold of the hallway seeps inside, and I push the door closed again, wondering if I can actually run away from Viktor.
My breath blows in and out of me in huge mouthfuls as I pace the hall, considering my options. I have a chance, possibly the only chance I’ll have to get out of here. I look to the window at the other end of the apartment, knowing what awaits outside: cold and little else. Even if I made it off this compound, I could freeze to death outside.
The vision of my father’s corpse penetrates my mind. I think of the weapon stuck in his chest and rivers of blood draining to the floor below him. That is what Viktor is capable of. He could do the same to me one day.
My lips draw across my face when I decide I need to get out of here. I yank open a closet door beside the entrance and pull out a long leather jacket with boots that are way too large for me but can handle the frigid temperatures outside. The brown leather coat makes a whooshing noise as I throw it across my back and slip each of my arms into the roomy sleeves. There’s fur lining the inside of the coat. As soon as I button up, I feel my body heat trapping inside. The boots slip onto my feet without needing to be untied. They’re way too big for me, but they’re all I have right now.
When I turn the doorknob I do it much slower this time, not knowing if I can trust what lies outside. Anything here can be a trap.
The lock clicks again and the old wooden door whines as opens. I peer my head outside, looking down each end of the hall before stepping out completely. As I head down the hall, the hem of the leather trench coat drags behind me. The boots I’m wearing are so heavy the heels make a dull clomping noise as I lift my feet and they slip off my heels. When I step back down, my foot slides back inside the boot until I take my next step. If something should happen where I need to run, I’d have to kick these boots off me first.
Twin metal doors of an elevator reflect the glow of the ceiling light above it. I rush towards it, but slow down when I realize I’ll probably be spotted if I take an elevator down. My reflection on the elevator shaft doors is almost unrecognizable. Knotted clumps of hair jut outwards in random directions. I’m pale and bruised. It’s obvious none of these clothes are mine. They’re way too large for me.
But none of this will matter if I can slip out of here unnoticed.
There’s a dark brown metal door at the far end of the hall. I stomp up to it and see a stairwell through a small rectangular window on the door. My hand wraps around the handle and hope for a little more luck. When I pull, the door swings open.
My suspicions rise as I descend the stairwell. It seems almost too easy to escape, but I have to try. The boots fall from my feet as I raise each leg, but I find my rhythm and walk down the stairs faster, adjusting my stride so my foot slips back into the boot before it lands on the next stair. Before I know it, I’m on the ground floor, walking with only a small limp from the awkwardness of the boots I’m wearing. I land each footstep as quietly as I can and pull another door open, again checking both directions of the hallway before stepping out.
My breath catches in my throat when I hear the distant voices of men. I walk towards the only hallway I can and see it’s all glass. I throw my body against the wall, hiding from anyone who could see me before I look out again.
The first two rooms have the lights shut off. I lean as far forward as I can and find no one is inside either office before I move forward. The voices of the men grow louder as I make my way down the hall and I see lights from the occupied office reflecting on the hallway floor. My heart pounds as I realize that I’m going to need to pass them if I want to get out of here.
The next two rooms are just as dark, but I pause and check for anyone inside before passing, slowing down to a gentle stop just ahead of the office with the lights on. I peer forward as slowly as I can, leaning myself further until I see the back of one man. His jet black hair reflects the light above him as he’s hunched over a desk. I move further and see another man sitting in front of him with his back turned, facing a computer. When I’m sure there’s no one else in the office, I raise the bottom of the leather coat as if I’m holding a ballroom gown and I lift my leg to take a step. The sounds of typing on a keyboard mask the noise I make with my feet. A gust of relief blows out of my lungs when I clear the occupied office. There are two more empty offices before reaching a doorway, an entrance to a dining hall. I check behind me to make sure I wasn’t spotted, turn around and peek farther into the dining room doorway before stepping inside. I rush to the other end of the room, letting my boots fall as they may on the carpet as I approach the other door.
When I’m a few paces from the way out of the room, a man walks inside. A hard thump of panic fills my chest and I freeze, losing my footing and falling backwards. I struggle to get up but am pulled back to the floor. When I look up to see who walked into the room, my mouth opens to scream, but is covered by a meaty hand covered in tattoos.
“Shh,malishka,” the Bratva soldier with the tattooed scalp hisses at me. I haven’t seen him since the night of the party when he tore my clothes off in the stairwell.
I whip my abdomen to the side to get up, but he pulls me back, pinning my torso under his hand. I grunt from the force of his weight on my stomach as I kick my legs to free myself but freeze when I feel cold metal pressed against my head.
“Keep fighting and I’ll pull the trigger,” he growls at me. His face softens and the skin on the sides of his eyes fold as he smiles at me. “If you stay quiet, I’ll keep your little escape attempt our secret.”
I glare back at him, feeling sick over the idea of sharing anything with him. He raises himself to his feet and pulls me up by my arm. I step back, looking around for anything I can use as a weapon, but collide into a chair.
“You should be thankful I was on camera duty tonight, or you’d be dead,” he says, smiling as he creeps towards me.
I try to run, but he grabs my coat and pushes me against the table.
“I know who you are,” he says with the same revolting smile on his face he had the first night I saw him at the Mikhailov party.
“Whoever you think I am, you’re wrong,” I say with a tremble in my voice.
My response just makes the man laugh harder. “It doesn’t matter,” he says as his eyes drift down my body. I pull the coat tighter across myself but can still feel his gaze on me.
“Viktor’s got you locked up in his apartment so he can fuck you when he wants,” he says as his smile fades, “But you were mine first. You’re going to fuck me.”
I recoil, trying to back away, but fall back against the table. I can’t run and I can’t scream. I try to push my hands on his chest to get him away from me, but he grabs each of my wrists and pulls them off him.
“Don’t worry,” he says in a falsely comforting voice. “I said you are going to fuck me, not the other way around. And you’ll want to.”
“I’d rather die,” I say.
The man laughs and ignores my response. “Do you want to knowwhyyou’ll fuck me?”
I repeat his words to him in a mocking tone. “It doesn’t matter,” the corners of my mouth draw downwards at the idea he can even think that’s possible. “It won’t happen.”
