I gesture with my hand to the guards. “This is Daniil and Roman, prison guards.”
Realization faintly sparks in her eyes.
“Yes, they guard Dominik and his men, and they do whatever I order them to do,” I tell her. “As for what I’ll order tonight, that depends on whether or not you cooperate,” I tell her evenly.“Refuse and wonder what that could be…or get up and wash yourself right now.”
Alina clenches her jaw at the implied threat, and her eyes darken a degree.
“Well?” I ask her. “What’s it going to be,wildcat? I’ve come up with a variety of plans within our agreement that won’t technically ‘hurt’ them. Did you know that my brother is so terrified of spiders, or that our father made him eat one as a teenager? I happen to keep a few big ones as pets…”
Finally, she moves, scooting herself to the edge of the cot at a snail’s pace. I don’t even think she’s trying to provoke me by moving so slowly. She physically can’t move any faster, which bothers me more.
I watch her stand, her balance wavering for a second. Does her face look paler now?
Alina breathes in deeply through her nose before walking toward me, but it’s more like a stiff shuffle. She stops in front of me a foot away, not meeting my eyes. Instead, she looks at the guards like she’s waiting for them to leave.
“They’ll leave the room if you continue to cooperate,” I tell her.
Alina’s eyes dart back to mine, full of dismay. Still, she won’t speak.
“Well?”
She gives a single nod in agreement.
“Get out,” I order the men.
Once they’re gone, Alina’s frown deepens as she lowers her gaze. She reaches for the button and zipper of her jeans first and undoes them before pushing the material down her legs. She lifts one foot to pull it out, but she loses her balance almost immediately.
Before she can hit the ground, I grab her arm, steadying her so that her foot can slide out of her pants’ leg.
Guilt hits me like a clap of thunder, harsh and unexpected. She wouldn’t be like this if I hadn’t ordered Dominik to kill her brother.
The grief is swallowing her whole. Why else would she let herself reach this pathetic state?
Alina manages to get her other foot out of her pants without falling, and I release her arm so that she can pull off her shirt.
Fuck.
Her body matches the image I’ve carried in my head for weeks, except now, after only a few days of refusing nourishment, the hollows stand out. She’s fucking starving.
She trembles as she unhooks her bra and lets it drop to the ground with the rest of her clothing.
Grimacing when finished, one of her arms covers her breasts and the other hand rests on her sunken stomach where I’m sure it’s aching with hunger.
A brief wave of concern washes over me. A sliver of me wants to tell her to put her clothes back on and get back in bed. But what will that help?
She still won’t eat. She still won’t drink.
She needs this push to get back to being her usual defiant self. The same woman who I know will fight and stand her ground, even against me.
“Keep going,” I tell her, my voice firm.
Alina exhales long and slow before she lowers her hands to push her black panties off her hips. They fall down her legs on their own, and she steps out of them, foot by foot.
I can’t even properly drink in the sight of her naked because she shrinks into herself, cold and self-conscious.
Alina walks toward the spray of cold water, keeping her head down. She immediately tenses up the second she’s under the freezing downpour, sharply inhaling as her hair becomes soaked.
“Wash,” I tell her as I take a step back so that I won’t get wet.
