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"We're with you, Samuil. Always," Roman replies.
The call ends, leaving me alone in the heart of New York, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of a city that feels both like home and a strange land. I shove the phone into my pocket, determination surging through me.
If Radu wants a war, he’s got one. Every ounce of my being, every skill I've honed over the years, will be dedicated to bringing Ana home.
The sun sets over the cityscape, casting shadows that mirror the darkness threatening to engulf me. But in that darkness, there's a fire—a beacon of hope and perseverance.
For Ana. For us.
I’m coming.
Chapter 34
Anastasia
The world around me sluggishly stitches itself back together.
Cold, hard concrete presses against my cheek. My wrists chafe against what feels like coarse rope. The familiar, almost comforting scent of an old warehouse fills my nostrils: dust, rust, and stale air.
Blinking slowly, I try to dispel the haziness that cloaks my vision, and fragments of memories lash at me.
The smartly dressed security team in the pristine white shirts and black pants. The official-looking paperwork they showed me. My naivety in believing them. Radu. His cold, vengeful eyes locked onto mine, just as I let down my guard. The vicious glee that twisted his features.
Then the weight of two, no, three men on me. Their gloved hands prevent any struggle. The sharp sting of a needle puncturing my skin followed by a chilling rush through my veins. Darkness was quick to claim me.
Now, anger bubbles inside, replacing the fear that momentarily gripped me. I walked right into his trap. God, how could I be so stupid? Shifting slightly, I try to get a sense of my surroundings. The dim, musty warehouse filled with neglectedwooden crates and old machinery, shadowed in the weak light filtering in through grimy windows high above.
In the distance, the faint sound of water dripping echoes, almost in sync to the thud of my heartbeat in my ears. I feel a sudden rush of panic. Not for myself, but for the life inside me. My hand instinctively tries to reach for my belly, but the tight restraints make it impossible.
The thought of any harm coming to our child twists my insides, the terror raw and visceral. Radu can't possibly know, can he? I have to get out, have to protect our baby.
Summoning every ounce of strength, I work on the ropes binding my wrists. They bite into my skin, but I persevere, twisting and wriggling. Thoughts of Samuil fuel me. I imagine his panic, his determination. He is turning the city upside down to find me, of that I am certain.
But I can't just wait, helpless. Minutes, hours, time blurs as I work on the bindings, pausing only to listen for any signs of movement outside my makeshift prison. My mind races, strategizing escape routes, contingencies, anything to get out of this hellhole.
And then, the smallest of victories, the ropes slacken just a bit. It isn't much, but it is a start. A surge of hope bolsters my resolve. Tears of frustration, fear, and fury sting at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Radu won't see me broken. He wants to see me helpless and afraid. I won't give him the satisfaction.
Because one thing is for sure—he underestimates the depths of my will. The strength that fighting in the ring instilled in me isn’t just physical—it's mental, emotional. Radu may have captured the Tsarina, but he is about to face her wrath. And I'll make him regret the day he ever thought he could use me as a pawn in his sick game.
The rasp of metal against metal jars me from my concentrated focus on loosening the ropes, and I immediatelystill. The heavy door, set into the far wall, groans open. Through it steps Radu, his face a mask of smug satisfaction.
His dark eyes lock onto mine, and a malicious grin curls his lips. Without thinking, I summon what saliva I can and spit in his direction, my tone dripping with venom.
"What have you done to me, you bastard?" He only chuckles, casually sidestepping the pool of saliva.
"Oh, Ana," he tsk-tsk's, feigning disappointment. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"Just tell me what you put in that injection," I shoot back, my voice tight with suppressed rage and fear.
He ambles closer, maintaining a leisurely pace, savoring every moment of his perceived triumph. "Midazolam," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "A simple sedative. And don’t worry your pretty little head. It won't harm the baby."
A jolt of surprise runs through me. The revelation, however, only strengthens my resolve not to let him see my fear.
"So you’re using an innocent, unborn child in your twisted games now?” I spit, disgust evident in every word. “Have you sunk that low?”
Radu's smile widens, not at all deterred by my accusation. "You see, Ana, having you and the unborn brat in my hands just makes this all the more enjoyable for me.”
The chill in his voice sends shivers down my spine, but I'm not about to let him see that. “How do you even know about the baby?" I demand, my eyes narrowing.
