My pulse hammers so violently it hurts. He enjoys my reaction, telling from the way his grin widens.
“Well, well, well,” he says as he strolls closer, hands in his pockets. “Did you miss me?”
I force myself to stay still. He wants me to be afraid. I won’t show him any fear. I won’t react at all. It’ll rob him of his satisfaction.
“You cost me a lot of money that night,” he says casually, like we’re having a normal conversation. “It was supposed to be a simple job.” His smile fades into something sharper. “Mr.Volkov ruined all that. So now he’s stuck with the bill. And you’re going to help me get it paid.”
My throat tightens painfully. My greatest fear has come true. This is about Samuil. They took me to get to him. This is not random. It never was. The thought makes me sick, but it also gives me something to hold on to. He will come for me. I need to believe that, or I won’t survive this.
The man crouches in front of me, his breath reeking of cigarettes and cheap liquor. “You know who owns you now, sweetheart?”
I say nothing. He lifts my chin with two fingers. I pull my face away in the smallest, most controlled movement I can manage.
He leans closer, his lips almost brushing my ear. “You will make noise for me soon.”
I swallow hard and stay still. Any reaction will feed him. I repeat that over and over in my mind:Do not react. Do not provoke. Protect the baby.
Before he can say anything else, a door slams open on the far side of the warehouse. Heavy footsteps echo through the hollow space. The man stands, straightens his jacket, and steps back with an irritated sigh.
“I told you not to touch her, Alex,” the new man says to my attacker. “I’m trying to bleed Volkov dry, and that can’t happen if she has a single hair out of place.”
This new man is harsh and dismissive. He’s older than Alex and he looks a hell of a lot scarier. There are scars on his face, and his mouth looks like it’s permanently set into a frown. What’s clear is that he’s the man in charge. Alex is just a foot soldier, a pawn. He has no real authority here.
“I’m sorry, Mr.Lebedev,” he says without any trace of actual contrition. “You know I can’t resist a pretty face.”
“If this goes south, you do whatever the hell you want with her,” he says dismissively. I shiver with disgust and fear. “Until then, keep yourself in line.”
The man, Lebedev, turns his focus on me.
“So,” he says simply, “this is Volkov’s new pet.”
Pet, he says. Like I’m an object rather than a human being. Of course I am. I’m Samuil’s pet and Mr.Lebedev’s leverage. Maybe stripping me of my humanity makes this easier. Maybe that’s how they find a way to sleep at night.
“She’s a little round in the face,” Lebedev tells Alex. “Is she pregnant?”
My heart stops. I feel the blood drain from my face. Alex shrugs. “Could be,” he says. “He’s obsessed with her. He’s kept her under lock and key for weeks. It’s taken me this long to get to her, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve been fucking like rabbits.”
Lebedev steps closer. I hold my breath. I keep my posture neutral, my eyes down, praying that looking weak will make me less interesting. He studies me for a long moment, then smiles a sadistic smile that promises more suffering than comfort.
“I hope she is,” he says mildly. “It will make this much more interesting.”
My stomach twists so violently I almost gag. I don’t let myself move.
“You’re very quiet,” Lebedev continues, circling me slowly. “Not even begging. Not even crying. Very different from most of our hostages. By now, they’re usually begging for their lives.”
I don’t say anything to this. Mostly I’m just trying to keep the images at bay. I try not to think of the people who’ve been held at this warehouse before me. I refuse to consider their fates.
“So disciplined,” he murmurs. “I wonder if that is your nature or something he trained into you.”
The words sting. They’re meant to. I press my lips together and inhale through my nose, slow and silent. My entire body trembles, but I force it to stillness. I can’t let them see how terrified I am. I can’t let on how badly I want to scream.
He crouches in front of me, his eyes scanning my face. “You know why you’re here, don’t you?” he asks. “You are leverage. You are bait. You are the lever that will pry Volkov apart, piece by piece.”
I try to stay numb, but a tiny sound escapes my throat.
He hears it. His head tilts slightly. “Ah. So you can react.”
He reaches for my face. I flinch instinctively, just a small jerk of my shoulders, but it’s enough. He laughs softly and straightens up.
