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Eve
The room is windowless and cold, and I huddle in the corner, knees drawn to my chest to keep warm. I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been held prisoner, but it feels like weeks. I’m thirsty and tired. My bones ache from the concrete floor, and my eyes burn from the dust in the air.
So far, the torment has been mental. Taunts mixed with the threats of physical violence that never come. Though, as time wears on, I suspect the threats will turn to action. My father can only hold back his dogs so long, and even now, he is hardly trying.
I feel like such a fool thinking he loved me. Thinking my father cared about me at all. If he did, he wouldn’t have pushed me into the arms of Luka when it was the last thing I wanted. Though, to make matters even more confusing, Luka is now the only man I know I can trust. I can’t decide whether to hate my father or thank him for tricking me into the marriage.
I can decide on one thing, though: I hate him for making me send that message to Luka. Because Luka will answer it. No matter how he feels about me, he’ll come for me. I know it. Loyalty is important to him, and I am carrying his child. He’ll come for me.
And he’ll be killed.
I try not to think about it, but the thought refuses to go away. No matter how hard I try to keep it at bay, it always comes back around. Luka will be killed, and I will be responsible. Then, I’ll be left alone. Will they hurt my baby? Will they kill me too? All of the possibilities are too horrible to consider, and yet, I can’t seem to stop.
When the door to my room opens, I sit up straighter, trying to disappear into the shadows of the corner.
“Wakey, wakey,” my father says, walking in with a glass of water in his hand. “How did you sleep?”
The question sounds genuine, but I know he is making fun of me. I insulted him and disobeyed him, and he is enjoying my punishment. To him, this is justice.
I don’t answer and instead, reach out for the cup. He sits it on the floor and scoots it closer to me with the toe of his shoe like he is offering it to a wild animal instead of his daughter. I’m too thirsty to care. I grab the glass and drink it greedily, tipping it back for every last drop.
“Well.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the room like he is searching for something he lost. “It has been twelve hours since your husband received our message, and yet, he has made no efforts to get in contact with us.”
My heart sinks slightly, but I do not lose hope. Luka will come for me. Or, rather, forus. I know it.
“He has not reached out to ask about your wellbeing or find out where you are being kept.” He shrugs. “Perhaps, you are not incentive for him to give up the weapons he stole. Perhaps, you are not worth the money he could make.”
Luka doesn’t care about money. His father is more of the businessman. Luka cares about justice and loyalty, which is why I know he doesn’t care about selling a bunch of guns. His father might, but Luka would throw them in the ocean just to watch them sink. He didn’t steal those guns so he could sell them, but so that the Irish couldn’t. It was payback for attack at our wedding, nothing more.
“You are quiet today,” he says, kneeling down in front of me.
I glare up at him, eyebrows lowered. I hate him. I hate him now more than I ever loved him.
“Something got you down, little girl?” He reaches out to touch my chin, and I swat his hand away.
“Don’t touch me.”
He pulls his hand back, smiling—though there is a hard edge to it—and stands up. “That command will work on me, but it won’t work on the other guys. I put you in this room to keep you separate from them, but soon enough, even this door won’t keep you safe.”
A chill runs through me, and I try to fight it off, but he sees it. And smiles.
“You are right to be afraid. Those men out there hate Luka for stealing from them, and they are happy to get back at him by hurting you. Though,” he says, bobbing his head back and forth. “Maybe it won’t be such good revenge, after all. It seems, baby or no baby, your husband really was just in this marriage for the business connections. I thought maybe he loved you, but I’ve been wrong before.”
He cares. Luka cares about me. At least enough that he doesn’t want me to be tortured and killed. And even if he does hate me, he’ll save his child. He’ll come to protect his baby.
I repeat the words to myself over and over again, trying to convince myself of their truth. Because the moment I listen to my father and allow myself to doubt, I will lose all hope. And without hope, I’ll die.
“What?” he asks, kneeling down again. “Nothing to say?”
“Not to you.” I look over his shoulder, staring at the far wall.
He moves to get in my line of sight. “You should be nicer to me, Eve. I’m the only one standing between the Irish and you and your baby. You should think about that before you disrespect me.”
His face is so smug and so close to mine that I can’t help myself. I pull back and let spit fly. It hits him in his cheek, and he cries out in disgust, turning away to drag his sleeve across his face. When he faces me again, his neck is red, and his jaw is clenched. “I can’t believe I raised such a little bitch. Maybe I should drag you out to the boys and give you a little taste of exactly what I’m saving you from.”
He reaches out for me, and I scramble into the corner, holding my hands up to protect myself. He grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls, the material ripping as I strain in the opposite direction. Then, suddenly, his hand falls away.
I freeze, unsure why he stopped, and then I hear something off in the distance.
