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“Mr. Molotov would like for you to join him in the breakfast room,” he says.
After what happened the last time in the dining room, no thanks. Besides, I don’t know this man. Why would he send this old man and not Carlson or even Gloria to call for me?
“Thank you,” I say with a trembling smile. “But you can tell the beast… I’m sorry… Mr. Molotov that I’m not feeling up for having breakfast at this time,” I say.
His kindness fades and in its place is an alarming sternness. He reaches for me, grabbing me by my hair and pulling me out of the room. “I’m afraid that wasn’t a request.”
“Ah! Ow!” I yell, grabbing his hands, trying to pry him off. He looks old and feeble. He’s anything but. He drags me down the hallway as I try to remain on my feet. “Okay, fine. Let me go! I’ll walk,” I say, but he ignores me.
When we get to the stairs, he pushes me before him, though he never lets me go. I’m off balance as my legs hurry along without me. My near future doesn’t look so pleasant, and I keep hoping that I don’t land flat on my face. We’re on the other floor before I can blink and before my heart can decipher what in heaven’s name is happening, he opens a door and shoves me into a bright room with yellow and cream wallpaper. The sunlight is reflected off the walls and smaller white table.
The beast paces with his hands on his hips. His heavy breathing reminds me of Chance’s nickering. When he sees the man pushing me around, his mouth falls open before he closes it. His nostrils flare.
“Here she is,” the man says.
Adam marches toward me and the closer he gets, the more my breathing shortens. “Thanks, Miran. I’ll take it from here,” he says.
The man releases me, but he doesn’t leave the room. Adam growls, and his large hand wraps around my throat. My eyes fly open, and I wonder if someone spotted my silks hanging from the window and reported it to him. I gasp for air as my head seems to swell in his grasp.
“Where is your father?” he asks.
What? I’m not sure I’ve heard him properly. The room is spinning. Air rushes quickly into my lungs again, and I cough, only realizing as I rub my throat that he let me go. My body wobbles from left to right before I crash to the floor. Adam towers over me.
“Answer me!” he roars.
The room grows smaller and darker, somehow. I shake my head. “What?” I ask.
He fixes his hand as though he’ll hit me with the back of it but as it sweeps over my head, he punches the wall instead, before picking up a chair and throwing it across the room.
“Don’t pretend to be simple with me, Olivia. Your father is missing. Where is he?!” he asks.
I gasp, and my eyes go wide. My father is missing? This news hits me in a surprising way. He’s missing, so he must be out of danger, right? If Adam doesn’t know where he is, then his men couldn’t have done anything to him. My father escaped? My heart soars. Yes! I hope he doesn’t come looking for me. If he is safe, then I have no reason to stick around here. Oh, thank goodness. We’ll find each other again. I almost smile but when the old man in the corner snickers, I scowl.
“Are you suddenly mute?” Adam asks as I tighten my lips at him. His eyes seem to almost jump from his skull. The orbs have lost any hint of blue. Red lines like lightning appear in the whites of them. He lifts me by my dress. The fabric rips. “Tell me where he is?!”
There are several places that come to mind, but I doubt my father would be silly enough to go back to places he’s lived before. It would make him far too easy to find. So, I genuinely have no idea where he is. But even if I did, I wouldn’t tell him. He could beat me until I was bloody and bruised, staining his carpets, I wouldn’t say a word.
He yells before tossing me to the ground. My hips crack as I land on my bottom, but my adrenaline is too high for me to feel anything. Backing up on my hands, I make my way to the wall and ease up to my feet. He balls his hand into a fist and stalks toward me. He swings, and I shut my eyes. The wall vibrates next to my head, and I stop breathing.
“You refuse to speak?! You still haven’t learned!” he yells, grabbing my head into his hands and squeezing so hard, I feel like a watermelon about to explode. “Your chances aren’t looking too good, Olivia Primrose. I might kill you before your time is up,” he says as sweat drips down his face.
He releases me and marches to the other end of the room. “I’ll give you one last chance to think about whether you want to withhold information from me. Because without your father, your life is pointless. Think long and hard, Olivia. The next time I ask, you better have an answer for me, or you’ll beg for death. Leave,” he says.
As I run from the room, I hear the voice of the man he called Miran tumbling down the halls. “Are you growing soft, Molotov?” he asks.
The beast roars, and something crashes to the floor. “I can’t exactly kill her now without the information, can I?” he asks.
They mutter some more, but I’m already up the stairs, rushing back to the room. It’s now or never. I can’t hesitate any longer. Slamming the door behind me, I push on the chest of drawers in the corner with all my might. The heavy wood fights me, and the legs get caught in the rug. I kick and swear at it, but I refuse to give up. The edges bore into my palms, they dig in my backside, but nothing. Grunting, I fall to the floor and tug the carpet out from beneath it. Pushing on it again, it squeaks across the wooden floors. Blast!
I pause, rushing to the door and pressing my back against it, while muttering a prayer. After a few minutes of waiting and determining that no one seemed to have heard it, I run back for another attempt. Pushing it seems to take several years of my life. My shoulders are sore, and my body is heaving by the time I get the heavy, noisy piece of furniture toward the doors, blocking it. It dawns on me then that all the time I used to push the furniture could have been used in my escape.
Sweating and swallowing, I catch my breath and pull the makeshift rope from under the bed, before adding some more silks to it. Adam sounded serious in his threats and since I have no intention of saying anything to him about my father’s whereabouts, my chances of survival are slim either way. I’ll either be caught trying to escape and end up dead, or I’ll wait for death in this room. I’d rather die trying to save my own life. With a quick glance out the window, I toss the silks down.
My heart gallops in victory as I hang from such height with the bedpost supporting my weight. I’ve never swung from a rope before, so I keep slamming into the side of the brick-and-mortar building. I swear. My hands slip against the silks, and I stop breathing. Bloody hell, my heart stops beating. My head is spinning, and I’m filled with nausea. But more than my fear is exhilaration. I’m almost there, I just have to figure out how to make it down without constantly slamming against the building. I close my eyes against my slipping hands and decide to trust that I won’t die.
Voluntarily slipping, however, burns through the palm of my hand too quickly, and I wince, using my knees to stop me. Bad idea. The skin scrapes off against the grit of the outside walls, and I try not to yowl. Still, that bad idea leads to a good one as I realize that I can use my feet to give me leverage and steady my descent. I can hardly believe my luck when my slippers hit the grass. I could jump in joy, but I don’t have time. Looking from my left to right shows me that one guard is taking a pee break against the wall. The other seems to be sleeping on his feet. This seems too good to be true. It must be my lucky day. I dash forward into the woods before they turn my way. I almost expect to feel a bullet in my back, but nothing happens.
I don’t stop to catch my breath until I’m far away. I collapse in damp dirt and fallen leaves, but laughter tumbles out of me. I’m free. I can’t believe my luck. I’m free! Laughter soon rolls into heavy, ugly cries. Tears fall from my eyes that I can’t afford to waste. I’m already running low on bodily water, and thirst claws at my throat.
