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“Skills we can use, sure, but what happens when we’re done with her? She’s seen too much. She knows our systems, our protocols, our weaknesses.”

A laugh. “That’s the point, isn’t it? Use her while she’s useful, then get rid of her when she’s not. Maxim knows what he’s doing.”

“Does he? From where I’m standing, it looks like he’s getting too close. Too invested. That’s not like him.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. The plan hasn’t changed. We use her skills until we don’t need them anymore, and then we deal with her like we would any other loose end.”

My stomach drops.

I press my back against the wall outside the office, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking.

Use her while she’s useful. Get rid of her when she’s not.

It shouldn’t surprise me. I’m a hostage. I’m leverage. Of course they’re planning to dispose of me when I’m no longer valuable. That’s what criminals do. That’s what men like Maxim do.

Hearing it out loud, so casually, like I’m nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded—it makes everything feel different.

Last night. The way he touched me. The way he looked at me. The way he said my name.

Was any of it real? Or was it just another form of manipulation, another way to keep me compliant, another way to use me until I’m no longer useful?

The humiliation hits me like a physical blow. I let him touch me. I let him fuck me on that desk. I came apart in his arms like I was made for him, like I wanted it, like I meant it. And the whole time, he was probably calculating how to use it against me.

I push away from the wall and walk back to my room as fast as I can without breaking into a run. The guards outside my door watch me pass, but I don’t look at them. I can’t look at anyone.

Inside, I close the door and lean against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor with my knees drawn to my chest.

I’m such an idiot.

I let myself believe there was something between us. Something real. Something that transcended the circumstances of how we met and the impossible situation I’m in. I let myself feel things for him—attraction, curiosity, maybe even something like trust.

All along, I was just a tool to him. A resource to be exploited. A loose end to be tied up when he’s done.

The anger comes next, hot and sharp. I stand up and wipe my face with the back of my hand. I’m done feeling sorry for myself. I’m done waiting for someone to rescue me. I’m done letting Maxim Gromov dictate my life.

It’s time to get out of here.

***

I spend the rest of the day watching.

The guards change shifts every four hours. There’s a brief window during the transition when the hallway is empty. The security cameras have blind spots that I’ve mapped over the past few days, filing the information away in case I ever needed it. The kitchen staff comes and goes through a service entrance on the west side of the mansion, and they don’t check badges as carefully as they should.

I start making a mental map. Exit routes, blind spots, shift changes. Anything that might help me get out.

For the first time since I was taken, escaping feels more important than understanding. More important than the puzzle of Maxim Gromov. More important than whatever twisted thing I felt for him in that study.

He’s not a puzzle to be solved. He’s a man who plans to use me and throw me away. I’m not going to let that happen.

That night, I lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling, running through scenarios in my head. What do I do if I’m caught?

I don’t think about his hands on my skin. I don’t think about the way he said my name, either.

Tomorrow, I’ll start testing the boundaries. Seeing how far I can push before someone notices. Finding the weaknesses in their security that I can exploit.

When the moment comes, I’ll be ready.

I have to be.