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Chapter 15
Aurora
After weeks in hell, I feel so miserable all I want to do is crawl beneath my covers and sleep.
Instead of doing what I want, Abbie and I walk into the room where our evading and escaping kidnapping lessons will take place.
God, I want to go home.
“Hopefully, we won’t get beaten up in this class,” I mutter, my body sore from all the training I’ve been doing.
I’ve been working my butt off to reach the goal weights Misha set for me each week. It’s been grueling, but I do feel myself getting stronger. But nothing I do impresses Misha. He just keeps barking orders, still cold and closed off.
It hurts. Every freaking day.
“From your lips to God’s ears.” Abbie glances around, then frowns. “Is it just the two of us?”
Just then, the Almeida twins walk into the room, followed by a woman who seems to be in her mid-thirties. Just like Abby and myself, the Almeida twins keep to themselves.
We quickly learned that we won’t be making any friends at St. Monarch’s. Most nights, Abbie and I choose to have dinner in one of our suites. Whenever it feels like the walls are closing in on us, we ask for a picnic basket and find a quiet spot in the gardens.
The gardens are picture-perfect. At the back of the property, there’s a path bordered by old trees that leads to a waterfall. At least once a week, I
try to spend some time there so I can just catch my breath and re-center myself.
To my surprise, more attendees arrive, but my stomach sinks as Misha and his two friends also join us. I was hoping this would be one class I don’t have to see him.
I still don’t get why he has to help me with everything, and whenever I ask why, I’m told it’s because he’s the best.
The best at working on my nerves. I’m so over this madness.
“Yay, more people for the instructor to focus on,” I whisper.
“Everybody’s here, right?” the woman in her thirties calls out. “Good. I’m Instructor Yelena, and I’ll be showing you how to evade and escape a kidnapping.”
Abbie glances at her left hand, then whispers, “I’m in desperate need of a manicure. Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?”
I look at my own nails that have seen better days. “Yes.” “Follow me,” Instructor Yelena says.
We wait for everyone to walk before Abbie and I fall into the back of the line.
“Remind me to make an appointment at the spa. We deserve a relaxing day tomorrow,” Abbie says.
“Okay.” I feel all the aches in my body. “A massage would be amazing.”
“Yes!”
“This is where we’ll train,” Instructor Yelena’s voice carries through what looks like the inside of a warehouse.
To my left are a variety of chairs, chains, ropes, and cuffs hanging from the ceiling. There are also beds with bondage stuff. At the far back are stacks and stacks of crates, and to the right are sparring mats.
Ugh. Please don’t let us do combat training in this class. I need a break.
“Jesus. Are we being taught BDSM or how to survive a kidnapping?” Abbie mutters. “It’s a little too kinky for my taste.”
I smother a chuckle.
“Abbie, Aurora, Paula, Duarte, and Seijo, step forward,” Instructor Yelena orders.
“Why just us?” I ask as we move to the front of the group.
I get my answer when Instructor Yelena explains, “Only the five of you are training. The other men are kind enough to offer their assistance, so the lessons are as close to the real thing as possible.”
Lucky us.
“We’re going to do a mock kidnapping, so you can get a feel of what will happen. Thereafter, we’ll go over everything you could’ve done to evade or escape.” She gestures at the group of men. “Take your places.”
The yakuza, the Albanians, and the bratva split into three groups.
“This is the only time you’ll get to choose,” Instructor Yelena says. “Pick your group of kidnappers.”
Seijo, of course, picks the yakuza as he’s one of them. The twins pick the Albanians.
“Ladies?” Instructor Yelena pressures us to choose. “I’ll take the bratva,” Abbie says, doing me a favor.
Seeing as all three groups have been taken, I ask, “Should I wait for the next lesson?”
Instructor Yelena gives me an incredulous look. “Pick a group, Miss D’Angelo. Surely it can’t be that hard?”
Jesus.
With my cheeks going up in flames, I glance at the three groups.
It’s a hard pass on the Albanians. The bratva is also a no-go.
Shit, that leaves the yakuza. Ugh.
Dragging my feet, I walk to the group of Asian men.
None of the men look at me, which I appreciate. Besides Seijo beating the crap out of me on the first day, he’s quite disciplined in class. Maybe his friends are the same.
Instructor Yelena waves a hand, and before it can register, I’m grabbed from behind and dragged into the maze of crates.
You have to fight!
I start to yank and wiggle, trying to free myself from his hold, but the guy is too strong. I’m pulled behind a crate, spun around, and a hard slap makes me bite my tongue.
Okay, it’s starting to feel real.
I’m still reeling from the slap when he starts to tie my hands. Fighting against his hold, I manage to free one hand, which only earns me a punch.
Blindly, I swing a fist at the guy, and it connects with his jaw.
“Jesus,” I whimper as dizziness swims in my head, but I manage to get another punch in, making him curse in Japanese.
His arms lock around me, and my feet leave the ground, then I’m dragged deeper into the maze of crates and shoved into one. A second later, darkness closes around me.
No.
Fuck no, this is way too real.
I struggle into a kneeling position, my hands connecting with a wooden wall.
“Let me out,” I scream, even though I know this is not how it works, but my rage still burns hot for a minute.
When I don’t hear anything, the reality starts to set in.
I’m in a crate, and I have to get out.
God, if this were a real scenario, I’d be loaded onto some boat and shipped off to the pits of hell.
Keep calm.
My heart beats frantically in my chest as I move my hands around me, feeling how small the space is, my breath catches in my throat.
Oh. God.
The next breath I take is strangled by the fear pouring into my veins like hot lava. There’s no stopping the panic attack.
My mind blanks out as I start to pound against the wood, begging, “Let me out. Please! Let me out.” I gasp for air, but nothing reaches my lungs while my heart hammers violently in my chest. “Please!”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I start to rock back and forth, pinching my eyes shut.
You’re not stuck in a small space.
I am! I fucking am, and I’m going to die!
My hand moves to my throat as I struggle to breathe, the sobs bursting from me only making it so much worse.
Losing my mind from the horror of being stuck in a small space, claustrophobia makes it feel like I’m having a heart attack. My chest aches something fierce, and my lungs burn for air.
My sanity leaves me completely, and I feel myself sink into the deepest part of my mind.
‘Hi.’
I can’t stop staring at his blue eyes. Crap, he’s attractive.
‘Hi,’ he murmurs, his tone deep and rough, making goosebumps rush over my skin.
He just watches me with a look of amazement on his face.
‘This isn’t weird at all,’ I chuckle nervously. ‘What?’
‘You staring at me.’
‘It’s because I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I like taking my time to admire a work of art.’
He places his hand on my side, and feeling the heat of his skin makes a tremble ripple through my body.
‘I feel it, too,’ he admits, and I swear I lose myself in the blue depths of his irises. ‘The attraction.’
‘Yeah?’
He begins to lean down, and it has anticipation exploding in my abdomen. The moment our lips touch, it feels so right it makes emotions erupt in my chest.
I’m happy.
The horror yanks me back into the dark crate, and slamming my fists against the wood, I let out a broken scream.
There’s no air to breathe! God, I’m going to die.
No.
Shit, I can’t breathe. Help.
Not like this. I can’t die like this.
I try to inhale, but all I hear is the strangling sound of my throat closing.