Chapter 27 —Eva
I sat bound to a wooden chair in a dimly lit room with damp walls and a single window above. The moon’s soft light filtered through the broken glass, casting an ethereal glow over me.
My hands were tied behind my back, the unforgiving ropes biting into my skin. I sat there in silence with tape over my mouth, watching my captors try to call Demyon back.
Apparently, the negotiation didn’t go as planned, and he hung up the phone while the leader was still making his demands. The man was confused at first; he thought it was a glitch and decided to call again.
It turned out that the phone was ringing on the other line, but no one was answering. This enraged them, and the leader yelled in frustration.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Call him again,” one of his men suggested.
“You call him again!” he snapped, slamming the phone against the man’s chest.
He turned in my direction, his eyes blazing with fury as he walked over and peeled the tape off my mouth. A quiet groan slipped through my lips, and I met his gaze, refusing to show any fear.
His hand darted out and grabbed my jaw. “You’d better hope he takes his call and follows through with the plan,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “Or God help me, I will cut you to pieces and toss your remains into the river.”
I flexed my jaw after he let go, watching him seethe in silence. “Run,” I said softly, my eyes pinned on him.
“What was that?” he questioned, like he hadn’t heard me the first time.
“I said run.”
He glanced back at his men, and they burst out laughing.
“Now, why would we do that?” one of them asked me, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.
“Because you want to live,” I answered, calm and collected. “Take the money in the bag and run for your life.”
The leader swiped his thumb over his nose and scuffed. “Are you threatening us? You’re the one bound to a fuckin’ chair.”
“I’m trying to save your lives here,” I said. Then I added almost immediately, “Look, I get it. You’re just some greedy amateurs trying to get rich overnight. But you’ve messed with the wrong person.”
“Greedy amateurs?” The leader let out a quiet laugh and glanced back at his men. “Did you hear that? She called us greedy amateurs.”
The others laughed.
The man’s smirk vanished in a second, and he withdrew his gun, then placed the barrel on my forehead. “Listen here, Princess, I’m not playing games with you—”
“Neither am I,” I cut him off, even though my heart was hammering in my chest. “Think about it. Why do you think you can’t reach his phone anymore?”
The man’s expression darkened.
“It’s because he knows where you are, dummy,” I blurted out, savoring the fear creeping into his face.
He glanced back at his men before swallowing hard. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” I asked. “You called him to ask for ransom, and he didn’t threaten you. Demyon Tarasov didn’t threaten you.” I let the words sink in for a bit. “Instead, he kept you on the phone for about what…two—three minutes? Which, by the way, is enough time for his men to track your location.”
He tried to mask his fear with a frown, but it was too late; I could see through him. The man was terrified.
“Do you now see why he’s not taking your calls?” I added.
Silence fell, tension hovered in the air, and I could sense their unease.
“She’s bluffing,” one of them suggested, trying to sound confident.
