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“Care to explain, motherfucker?” Roman growls.
THIRTY-FOUR
Elara
Ithink someone is following me.
A black sedan with tinted windows waits outside every time I leave the campus or Sergei’s penthouse.
The first time I noticed it was when Amara came over, the very black car parked neatly by the exit of my flat, but I didn’t think much of it.
Then it showed up again when the texts came through. I think he’s keeping an eye on me, since it’s been two weeks and I haven’t been kidnapped or murdered yet.
He texts me twice a day and I’ve been fighting tooth and nail to stop making my fears obvious to Sergei.
His texts in the morning are more like a countdown and they turn into a threat by the evening.
UNKNOWN: Ten days to go, Ela.
Do you think of daddy's cock when he fucks you?
Leave him. I want you tight when I fuck you.
Nine days to go.
Will you suck daddy's cock, this time?
Eight days to go, Ela.
Cannot wait to have your pussy wrapped around daddy's dick.
I. Said. Leave. Him.
I don’t have it in me to reply.
I go to bed the same way every night—after emptying my guts out in the bathroom, until there’s nothing left but that hollow, shaking ache—and then I crawl into Sergei’s arms.
He knows I’m lying. Of course he does. My half-baked, rambling excuses don’t even try to hold up under that one raised brow of his.
But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t call me out. Simply waits patiently giving me the time I asked for.
I dare not hope of a happy future when the deadline hovers as a dark cloud above my head.
UNKNOWN: Seven days to go, Ela.
Still with him?
If you don't leave him tonight, I might kill him.
My hands quake as I open the door and find Sergei sitting at the edge of the bed. His elbows resting on his knees as his eyes follows my movements.
I gulp once, the fear of losing him burns the back of my eyes as I try to hold back my tears.
After reading today’s text, the bubble around me popped with a deafeningly loud crack. I was living on borrowed time; I’m going to fade and there will be nothing left of me.
I must leave Sergei. I have to.
I cannot stay, not if my presence is risking his life.