Silence stretches. Not uncomfortable, exactly… just loaded.
I set the cup down carefully. “Any idea how long I’ll have to stay here? Like… ballpark? A week? A month? Until my hair turns gray?”
His expression hardens. “No questions, boy.”
I wait. Don’t push. Just sip my coffee and crunch my cereal and let the silence do the work.
After a long beat, Ivan exhales again, longer this time, almost resigned.
“As soon as I know something, I’ll tell you,” Ivan says, a hint of kindness in his voice. Small, but definitely there. “That’s all I can say.”
It’s not much. But it’s honest. No bullshit promise, no empty reassurance. Just facts.
I nod slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”
Ivan looks at me. Really looks. Not the cold assessment of a captor sizing up a problem, but something closer to curiosity. Or maybe recognition. Like he’s seeing past the defiance for the first time.
I hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary, then drop my eyes back to my bowl. Let him think I’m grateful. Let him think I’m softening.
Inside, though, my mind is racing.
Ivan’s not just a thug. Notentirely. He’s a man doing a job—loyal, disciplined, maybe even honorable in his own twisted way. That makes him dangerous… but it also makes him predictable. And exploitable.
The coffee warms my palms. The cereal is soggy now, but I don’t care.
I’ve got time.
And I’ve got a plan.
Chapter 8
Ivan
The morning drags on in that peculiar penthouse quiet… muted traffic far below, the low hum of the aircon, Landon’s occasional spoon clinks against his cereal bowl.
But he’s finished eating now, rinsed his dish without being asked, and drifted back to the living room couch with Claw tucked under his arm. He’s scrolling through the approved streaming options on the TV remote—nothing live, nothing with news tickers, just pre-loaded movies and shows Viktor’s people vetted months ago.
I know it would drive me insane to be in his position.
I stand, stretch the stiffness out of my shoulders, and head toward the front door. Habit more than necessity: check the triple bolts, test the keycard reader, glance at the hallway camera feed on the small panel beside the frame.
All green.
No surprises.
Everything as it needs to be.
On my way back I pass the second hallway cupboard—the one I’ve never bothered opening. Viktor mentioned it once during our initial briefing call, offhand, the way he mentions anything that isn’t immediately tactical.
“Old toys in the east closet,” he’d said. “Might come in handy.”
I hadn’t paid much attention at the time. Distraction wasn’t my concern, containment was.
But things feel…differentthis morning.
After what I witnessed on the security feed to my phone last night too. Damn. That was something I wasn’t expecting, but I can’t deny how hot it was. Not to mention the fact that the boy seemed to realize toward the end but carried on anyway.
Whatever. I’m not falling into any potential traps. I can keep my dick under control more than well enough to ride this out.
