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Leaning in close, so close I can smell the stale tobacco on his breath, Radu whispers, "Do you think you can just waltz into New York and not be noticed? I've had eyes on you two since you set foot in this city." His eyes gleam with a combination of triumph and madness. "Every step you take, every breath, every whispered word in the dark, I know. And I wait, planning, ensuring my revenge is perfect."
Cold fury bubbles up inside me, and I yank against the ropes binding me. The bite of the fibers against my chafed skin only serves to make me angrier. "Whatever you want, Radu, it’s between you and me. Leave Samuil and our child out of this.”
He chuckles darkly. "Oh, don't worry. Your precious Samuil will play his part soon enough." The promise of more pain, more suffering, hangs heavily in the air between us. He stands up straight, his face darkening. "You and that mutt of a husband took everything from me," Radu spits. "Now it's my turn to strip everything away from you."
I can’t help but let out a derisive snort. "Everything that happens to you, Radu, is of your own making. Did you expect to go up against the Bratva and waltz out with no consequences?"
His reaction is swift and brutal. The back of his hand collides with my face, sending a sharp pain through my cheek and causing my head to snap to the side. I taste the metallic tang of blood on my lips, a fresh cut stinging from where his ring made contact.
I slowly turn my head back to face him, my glare unyielding. "You'll regret that."
He simply rolls his eyes, looking bored. "Oh, Ana, always so defiant. Such a tough girl. It will be all the more satisfying when I finally break you." His voice drops to a threatening whisper. "And you will break,Tsarina.”
I square my shoulders, letting the icy facade of the Tsarina mask any hint of emotion. "You underestimate me, Radu. You always have. And that's your biggest mistake."
His wicked laughter echoes through the room. "Sit tight, my dear. Your execution will come soon enough. And I promise, you'll be praying for it by the time it does."
He turns on his heel and exits the shadowy space, the door slamming shut behind him, sealing me in with the weight of his threat.
The moment he is gone, I refocus on the task at hand. There isn’t a second to waste. My fingers, previously numb from the tight bindings, begin to regain sensation as I diligently work on the knots. I have to escape. For me, for Samuil, for our unborn child. The stakes have never been higher.
The room is suffocatingly quiet once Radu leaves, punctuated only by my own labored breaths. The ropes are thick and coarse against my wrists, but a new spark of determination burns deep within me. Every twist and turn of my fingers seems futile, every little movement barely causing a shift in the tight bindings.
And then, with a determined yank, I feel the first thread give. My heart races, a bead of sweat rolls down my temple, but I focus. Slowly, the ropes loosen. Just before letting them fall, I scan every inch of the room. No blinking red lights, no little black orbs; it seems I'm not being watched by electronic eyes. Good. The last thing I need is someone monitoring my every move.
With a huff of relief, I discard the now useless ropes to the ground. Rising to my feet, my muscles ache, but I push the pain aside. Now is not the time to dwell on discomforts. I need to get out of here. My eyes land on a set of metal slats on the far wall. They are embedded tightly, but desperation is a powerful motivator.
Drawing from every bit of knowledge I have about securing and breaking out of such places, I scan the room for anything that could be of use. Finding a thin, discarded metal rod, I wedge it into the slats and apply as much pressure as I can muster. The metal groans, then with a final heave, shifts just slightly.
The gap isn’t much, but it is enough to peer through. I find myself staring at the outside world, a vast expanse of grey warehouses, looking almost identical. My heart sinks. It's likelooking for a needle in a haystack. How will anyone find me here? But then, a splash of color catches my eye.
A truck, its side painted with various flowers, makes its way into one of the warehouses. I squint, trying to get a better look, and there it is—the Gvozdika. A bright, radiant red flower that Samuil often brings me. It is more than just a favorite; it is our silent love language. Each petal a testament to our journey together.
A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. It could be a coincidence, or it could be a beacon, a clue signaling my whereabouts. Samuil is clever, and I have no doubt he'll piece it together. But sitting around, waiting for rescue, isn’t my style. I am the Tsarina. And while that flower truck might lead him to me, I'm not going to leave it all up to fate.
I will fight, and if Radu thinks he can hold me captive, he is sorely mistaken. I begin to take in every detail of the room, every potential exit and weak point. The time to act is now.
Chapter 35
Samuil
The sharp ringtone pierces the air, yanking me from my thoughts. Carlos' name flashes on the screen, and I steel myself for whatever games the Rodriguez Syndicate leader has in store.
"Carlos," I greet tersely.
"Samuil! To what do I owe the pleasure so soon after our little chat?" The hint of amusement in his voice grates on me, but I keep my tone steady.
"I'm calling in that favor you owe me."
A chuckle ripples over the line. "Didn't take you long, did it?"
Ignoring the jibe, I get to the point. "Radu, a man from my past, has taken something, someone, important to me.”
There's a contemplative pause. "Why should I get involved in your old grudges?"
"Because this isn't just about an old grudge," I snap, struggling to maintain my patience. "Radu isn't the kind to be content with a small piece of the pie. If we don't deal with him now, it won't be long before he's gunning for your territory too."
Carlos seems to weigh my words for a moment. "Maybe. But what's in it for me?"
