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I roll my eyes, feeling my temper start to flare. “Call me a slut,” I snap. “Maybe I am. I won’t be for you, though, so no worries there. Your words can’t hurt me but keep trying. I can’t believe my father is willing to have me deal with this for some stupid agreement.”
The car falls silent again, and I can tell he's struggling to keep his anger in check. I know I'm pushing his buttons, but I can't help it. I don't want to admit that I was partly wrong, and I don't want to feel weak in front of him. I know I should run the minute this car stops, but he may just be the last chance for my father. I hate that he’s put me in this situation to save our family and his precious Bratva, but he and my brothers are the last family I have left. If something were to happen to them because I was unable to endure whatever this prick has in store for me, I’d be crushed. I don’t think he’d kill me. He needs me alive. He said it himself. He called me aninvestment.
“You need to stop trying to be so damn tough,” he says finally, his voice stern. “You’re only going to make things harder for yourself.”
I grit my teeth, feeling my frustration rise. “I don't need you to tell me how to live my life,” I say, my voice shaking with anger. “I'm a grown woman, and I can take care of myself.”
He looks at me, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Clearly, you can't,” he snaps. “Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I wouldn’t have been called by one of my men who I asked to keep an eye on you in case you decided to run.”
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling defensive. “I didn't need you to save me,” I say firmly. “I could have taken care of myself. And I wasn’t planning on running.”
He sighs, raking an agitated hand through those thick, untamed curls. “Because you’re an assassin, right?” he taunts. “Or is that just with defenseless college girls who don’t know how to fight back?”
“Fuck you! You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I plan to, princess. You’re going to tell me every last detail. Who was behind the hit, and how the fuck did you manage to get out of jail?”
After a long drive, he detours onto a road off the beaten path. We pull up to an electric gate and he inputs a code. We drive another quarter mile until we are in front of what looks like an abandoned warehouse. My heart plummets. Why are we here? What are his plans for me? There is nowhere to escape, even if I tried. I attempt to take in more of my surroundings, but it’s too dark, and the warehouse has few lights. Kai finally parks, and I can only wait for the fate that awaits me. He unlocks his door and rounds the front of the car. I pause until he opens my door and unbuckles my seat belt. He grabs me by the arm and leads me toward the side of the building. Inside is quiet and empty, so I’m not sure what this place is supposed to be for. He takes me down some stairs and to a cell at the end of the hall. Small light fixtures line the steel walls, but the pathway is still dimly lit. No words are exchanged as he pushes me inside before securing three locks on the other side. I don’t attempt to plead with him or fight. I wish to hold on to the last remaining dignity I have left. The sturdy metal bars of the cell are unforgiving, much like a jail cell. Holding the bars, I look behind me, but all I see is darkness. My future husband is already gone. I stand as long as I can, but my legs grow tired after a bit. I lower myself to sit on the concrete floor but don’t release the bars. I rest my head against the cold metal. I fucking hate this new life, and I’m not even into the first hour yet. If he has plans to kill me, I wish he’d just put me out of my misery already.
CHAPTER SIX
Vasilisa
When I awake from my slumber, I’m still in this locked cell in a dark basement of a warehouse. The only light comes from the small light fixtures high up on the wall outside the cell. The air is thick with musty odors, and my nose wrinkles at the smell of mildew and decay. I bet this building has been condemned. There is no way it would meet code. I feel around the cell and only find a bucket in the corner, a loaf of bread, and three bottles of water. The bucket is my only option for relieving myself. I shudder at the thought of using it, but I know I’ll have no other choice. Last night’s events come rushing to the forefront of my mind now that my adrenaline has had time to settle. Is this my future husband’s plan for me? Will he leave me down here? Panic sets in as I realize the severity of my situation. I am alone. The silence is deafening. There's no sound from outside the cell, no voices, no footsteps. It's like the world has forgotten about me and left me to rot in this dark hole. I try to shout for help, hoping that the new day has brought workers, construction, anything, but my voice is hoarse from screaming last night. I don't even know if anyone could hear me, even if they were here on the property. I was better off in that alley with the man who wanted to rape me. I had better odds of fighting back.
Hours pass, and I become increasingly thirsty and hungry. My stomach growls, but I push the hunger aside as long as I can before giving in to eat a couple of slices of bread and drink a bottle of water. I know my immediate concern is finding a way to escape. I want to help my family, but this can’t be the way. I pace back and forth, periodically shaking the rusting metal bars to find a weak spot. But everything is solid and impenetrable. My heart sinks as I realize the futility of my efforts.
The bucket in the corner is becoming unbearable. Was someone imprisoned down here before me? I can't stand the smell, so I try to hold it in for as long as possible. But eventually, my bladder gives out, and I have no choice but to use it. A wave of disgust and humiliation washes over me as I squat down over the bucket. I close my eyes and try to block out the reality of my situation, but the overpowering stench causes me to gag as I finish.
As more time passes, I become more and more desperate. I try to conserve my energy by sitting in one corner of the cell, but the discomfort is unbearable. My muscles ache, and my joints are stiff from lack of movement. I start to lose track of time. I don’t know how many days have passed since I've been locked up. My thoughts become jumbled and irrational. I start to imagine that I hear voices and footsteps outside the cell, but every time I shout for help, there's no response.
I try to sleep to escape, but it's hard. The floor is hard and uncomfortable, and the bucket smells even worse when I'm lying down. And when I do manage to drift off, I'm haunted by nightmares. Why have they returned? I start to lose hope. I don't know if I'll ever get out of this cell. I'm afraid that mycaptor, because that’s what he is, changed his mind about me being an investment. Maybe the moment he discovered who I was, he decided to screw my family over and just do what he initially set out to do that day in Persie’s apartment.Kill me.
Just when I've given up all hope, I hear a faint clicking noise from the outside of my cell. My heart races with fear. Has the ruthless heir sent someone to end me? The cell door creaks open, and blinding light floods into the cell from a flashlight. I shield my eyes as the form walks toward me.
“You have one chance and one chance only to get this right,” my savage captor warns. “You lie to me or smart off, and I will leave your princess arse down here for another three days. And that’s after I have some rats set lose down here to keep you company.”
I bite my tongue before speaking to keep from saying something that will ruin my chances of getting out of this hellhole. “Okay,” I say.
“Good girl. I see your time down here hasn’t been for nought,” he surmises. “Tell me. Why did you try to kill Persephone? Who hired you?”
I blow out a cleansing breath as I push myself to sit up. The reasoning is fucking asinine and embarrassing, but what choice do I have? “Nobody hired me,” I start. He turns to leave, and I scream with all the energy I have left, my throat raw. “Wait! Please. I’m not lying to you. I promise.”
He slowly turns and walks back toward me. “I swear this better not be bullshite. Speak!”
“Nobody hired me. I did it for Viktor. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t vanilla, boring, or fragile.”
“Who the fuck is Viktor? Elaborate!”
“Viktor is heir to the Sokolov Bratva in Russia. We grew up here together before his family moved back to Moscow. My father wanted to betroth me to him, but he refused me. He said he needed a wife who could keep up with him and not some fragile princess,” I explain. “I thought if I could take on one of his jobs, that I could prove my worth.”
He’s quiet for what seems like an eternity before he finally responds. “Why did Persephone call you Margo? She said she grew up with you too. Why did you think she was one of Viktor’s jobs?”
I have to dig deep to continue this story. Talking about my sister is never easy. “Margo was my twin,” I begin, my voice betraying me as it shakes. “Growing up, we were forced to attend different private schools— my father’s way of ensuring we weren’t in direct competition with each other and didn’t form a co-dependency. He wanted us both to have a separate journey, everything being strategic with him. At sixteen, she was brutally raped by a gang of men and then shot in the head. They left her body to be found in an abandoned warehouse, probably like this one. Margo was the spontaneous one—the one everyone gravitated to, including Viktor. She was his girlfriend, and he loved her. He blamed Persie for her death.”
“What? Why?” he asks.
“Margo and Persie were best friends until Viktor came between them. Persie wanted him to leave my sister for her, but when he rejected her and told my sister of her betrayal, Persie started rumors about Margo being promiscuous. That ultimately led to her being raped and then killed to keep her from identifying the assailants. It’s believed that Persie’s father used his connections and money to cover it up. And it worked. Margo’s murder was ruled as Mafia related and retaliation to get to my father.”
