“Get up. Back against the bars. Now.”
I open my eyes to see Valentin’s familiar tall, lean figure looming outside of the cage, his foot tapping impatiently. “What?”
Valentin motions for me to get up. “On your feet. Back against the bars.”
Confusion spikes through me as I force myself upright, my body lagging a second behind my fear.
I back into the bars, instinctively folding my arms over myself, suddenly aware of how little I’m wearing and how exposed that makes me.
Valentin opens the cage door and steps inside, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. “Hands out. If you try anything, it won’t end well for you.”
I’m still too weak to fight him, and I know it. Picking this moment to resist would only end one way.
Besides, I’m too curious about what’s going on. “Where are you taking me?”
Valentin snaps the handcuffs on before grabbing my upper arm and leading me out of the cage. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”
Rude.
My heartbeat quickens as he takes me out of the bedroom, my bare feet padding against the wooden floor. I haven’t left the cage, the bedroom, in what feels like forever. It’s almost disorienting.
Valentin takes me into a large bathroom down the hall where a middle-aged woman in a black maxi dress with long, dark hair is pulling items out of a floral toiletry bag—a hairbrush, a pair of tweezers, nail clippers. An assortment of beauty products.
Valentin speaks to the woman in Russian before pushing me toward her and shutting the door on his way out of the bathroom.
“He said you must remain cuffed until it’s time to get dressed,” the woman tells me before opening the door to the walk-in shower. “Go on. Clean well.”
My shock and confusion paralyze me. “I don’t understand.”
“ThePakhanhas requested that you be cleaned and dressed. Properly.”
What in the world is Gavriil up to?
She doesn’t give up any more information, so I do as I’m told, remove the lingerie, and enjoy a hot shower with the privacy of frosted glass. When I’m done, I wrap a towel around myself and sit down on a stool so that she can dry my hair, comb it, and fix it.
For the first time in a while, I can actually see myself in a mirror. As expected, it’s not a pretty sight.
It’s exactly what he forced me to become.
The woman staring back at me looks smaller. Sharper. Like pieces of her have been carved away.
My cheekbones jut out, my face too angular now, like my body hasn’t caught up to what I’ve survived.
There are dark circles underneath my eyes that she has to touch up when she tends to my eyebrows and dry lips. I’m afraid to see what I look like under the towel.
She then sticks her head out of the bathroom to say, “She’s ready to get dressed. Uncuff her.”
Valentin comes back in and takes the handcuffs off my wrists. He casts an uneasy look at the tweezers and other tools on the bathroom counter. “Maybe I should stay in here.”
“You will not,” she replies firmly. “She will not hurt me. I’ll stop her if she does.”
I quietly exhale in relief. The last thing that I want is for him to watch me get dressed, and I doubt Gavriil would want that either.
“Fine,” Valentin grunts before stepping back out and shutting the door.
“I don’t even know your name,” I say to her as she reaches up to unzip the wardrobe bag hanging on an upper cabinet door.
“Klara,” she tells me. “Though, I doubt you’ll see me again.”
