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I rise from the bed slowly, gathering myself and doing a once-over of my appearance before standing up to answer the door. It could also be food that he ordered for me as a surprise, which would absolutely make my day. I’ve been living a dream for the last few hours, and I know he’s going to make it even better when he comes back.
My blood freezes in my veins when more pounding continues. It sounds aggressive and unfriendly, which is a feature of Aleksander’s personality but not to the degree that he would take it out on me. HE must be angry about something, which isn’t my fault but certainly doesn’t help me feel better.
I take a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever awaits me on the other side of the door.
When I open it, confusion turns to terror as a hideous man pushes me back into the room, storming his way in and leading a group of three men inside behind him.
My brain damn near shuts off at this point. How could this be happening again, especially in less than four months? The worst night of my life is about to be repeated, and it has to be the one time that Aleksander isn’t here to protect me like he always says he will.
“Where the fuck is he?!” spits the hideous bald man as he stomps through the suite. “Where the fuck is he hiding? Answer me, you cunt!”
He flips over the desk first, then the small breakfast table near the window. Obviously Aleksander isn’t hiding underneath either of those pieces of furniture, but this person is hellbent on intimidating the truth out of me.
I don’t even know how to respond. I would never tell him the truth, of course, but my brain has become incapacitated by fear as my PTSD flows to the forefront of my mind. All I can think about is how this must be the next portion of my dream. It has to be. Is the world really so cruel as to put me through this again? Especially while I’mpregnant?
The man stares daggers into me, and I stare back like a rabbit in the headlights of a Jeep Rubicon as a drunk driver barrels toward me.
“Fucking answer me!”
He stomps back over to me, lifting me up by my shirt and holding me only inches from his face.
“You know where he is, and I’m not going to let you pretend to play stupid. You’re going to tell me where he is, or I’m going to torment you so badly that you’ll be begging me to kill you.”
A burst of courage escapes my synapses, and I’m able to mouth my two most powerful words.
“Fuck you.”
It takes him a moment to register that a woman would be so insolent toward him. How could I possibly defy a man like him? He clearly considers himself very powerful, and here I am, just a dainty little pregnant waif who would dare to speak against him.
“Oh do you think you’re brave? Are you going to be a little hero?” he growls, gripping the back of my hair at the roots until I’m certain that he’s trying to tear it out.
I want to scream for help, but he gestures for the rest of the men to come forward as they all pull their guns on me. Under such circumstances, a firing squad doesn’t seem like the worst way to go, but I doubt they’re here to kill me.
This must be the infamous Grisha.
Given what I know about him from Aleksander’s description, I’d be unwise to spit I his face and scream for help. The guns are just a bluff for something far worse.
“She thinks she’s really brave now, doesn’t she? Adorable,” he continues, pulling a knife out of a utility belt and lifting the edge of the blade to my throat.
Nobody responds. The silence feels inhuman. These men could be zombies or androids for all I know based solely on the way that they refuse to communicate. I suppose that if you need grunts, men who are seen and not heard are the way to go.
Grisha is handed a roll of duct tape by one of the silent men as if they’ve coordinated this entire thing. He rips off a giant piece of it, wrapping it around my head multiple times until I can’t even move the lower half of my face. It pinches my skin in some areas and pulls my hair, which feels like a stupid complain considering what’s happening. Either way, it certainly makes it worse.
“You know what happens to stupid girls like you, right? You don’t get to call the fucking shots ever. I’m not surprised that Aleksander lets you boss him around. He’s such a fucking pussy.”
I want to strangle him, but he’s got such a tight grip on my hair and he blade in his hand that I know my death would not be merciful or swift at all. I’m convinced that he would take my head and stick it on a spike to show Aleksander how insane he really is.
But how the hell did Grisha find us?!
Aleksander was so confident that the plane crash would throw him off our trail. There has to be something missing in this equation. My life is in real danger now, and I know I won't be able to reason with this person at all.
He places a black bag over my head, and I can barely see through the texture of the fabric before he drags me out of the room. There’s no way that the people in this hotel are going to see me this way and let him get away with it, but we’re also on the very top floor. If he knew where we were to begin with, he probably had time to formulate a fool-proof plan to kidnap me.
I’m fucked without Aleksander.
Grisha pulls me across the floor, giving me rug burns all over my legs. I know better than to scream still, but the pain is so bad that I can’t help but cry out. He slaps me behind my head, and I see stars for a moment just as I had in the bathtub.
“We’re going to make sure Aleksander sees me fucking you on camera until he hangs himself from a light pole. He doesn’t own you anymore, I fucking do,” he continues, his voice gritty and devoid of empathy.
