I know that smell.
My eyes snap open, and for one terrible, disorienting moment, I think I'm back in the cell—the same cell where Kazimir found me.
But this isn't the cell. The ceiling is different. Higher. And there's a window, small and barred, letting in weak gray light. I'm lying on something that might have once been a functional mattress, now just a thin pad over metal springs that dig into my back.
I try to sit up, and that's when I feel the chain.
My right wrist is shackled to a pipe that runs along the wall. The metal is cold against my skin, and when I pull, it doesn't give even a millimeter.
The panic hits me instantly, swift and suffocating. My breath catches in my throat, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my temples, my neck, my wrists. I pull harder at the chain,ignoring the bite of metal into my skin, ignoring everything except the desperate need to be free, to run, to?—
The baby.
My free hand goes to my stomach, pressing against the slight swell that has only recently become visible. I force myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I try to think about how I could get out of here, or the possibility that Kazimir might?—
Kazimir.
God, does he know? Does he know I'm gone? Is he looking for me, or have they?—
No. I can't think like that. Kazimir is alive. He has to be alive. Because if he isn't, then I have nothing left to fight for except the tiny life growing inside me, and I'm not sure that would be enough to keep me from doing something desperate.
The sound of footsteps makes me freeze. It sounds like heavy boots on concrete, getting closer. Multiple sets. The sound sends me into a spasm of terror, all of the old fears and pain and torment rushing back in.
The door opens, and Iosef walks in first. He looks exactly the same as I remember—tall, broad-shouldered, with pale eyes that hold no warmth, or mercy, nothing human at all. Behind him comes Grigory, shorter but stockier, with a crooked nose that has been broken more than once. And finally Evan, the youngest of the three, with that smile that makes my skin crawl.
"She's awake," Grigory says, and there's something eager in his voice that makes me want to vomit.
Iosef's expression doesn't change. He studies me the way someone might study an insect pinned to a board—with interest and absolutely no empathy.
"Svetlana," he says, and hearing my name in his mouth makes me feel dirty. "It's been a long time. You certainly made quite the effort to escape. But that ends here. "
I don't answer. I can’t. My throat has closed up, every instinct screaming at me to run, to fight, to do anything except sit here and let them see my fear.
But they can see it anyway. I know they can. Fear has a taste, and men like these love to savor it.
"Not going to say hello?" Evan asks, moving closer. "That's not very polite. Especially after we went to so much trouble to bring you home."
"This isn't my home." The words come out steadier than I feel. "My home is with Kazimir."
Iosef's expression flickers—just for a moment—with something that might be anger. "Kazimir Orlov. Yes. We know all about your... relationship with him."
The way he says "relationship" makes it sound obscene.
"He took something that belonged to me," Iosef continues, taking a step closer. "I don't like it when people take my things."
"I'm not a thing." I lift my chin, meeting his eyes even though everything in me wants to look away. "And I never belonged to you."
"No?" Iosef crouches down in front of me, close enough that I can smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes. "I bought you. That makes you mine."
"Kazimir rescued me."
"Kazimirstoleyou." Iosef's voice is soft, almost gentle, which somehow makes it worse. "And now I'm taking back what's mine. With interest."
His eyes drop to my stomach, and I feel my blood turn to ice.
"Don't." The word comes out as a whisper. "Don't you fucking touch me."
Grigory laughs. "Still got some fight in her. I like that."
