Maria
I’m overwhelmed by a terrible smell that I can’t describe. I take shallow breaths and hold my body very still. I’m held captive in my own body, my limbs heavy and immovable, as if I’ve been frozen in time. I have the impression that I’m falling, and it’s odd. This sensation of being surrounded by rough, jagged hardness, though I can’t reach out and touch the edges. I can feel them scratch me as my body rolls back and forth. I want it to stop, but it won’t. I take deep breaths, trying hard to stave off the terror, but it only makes the sensation worse. I feel the walls pressing against my skin, almost crushing me. I want it to end, but I’m powerless to stop it.
There is a jolt as if I’ve hit bottom, and the shock of a sudden stop reverberates through my bones. Everything around me is silent, and it becomes unbearable. I try to move, starting slowly by wiggling my fingers and tapping them against the hard surface. But when I try to lift my arm, it feels too heavy to move.
No matter how hard I try, my eyelids remain shut, and I can’t open them.
Am I dead?
No, I decide. If I was dead, then I’d feel nothing.
Self-preservation makes me stop moving. It’s useless to do anything until I know where I am. My body curls into a ball, and I worry about protecting my baby from whatever danger surrounds us. Sweat forms on my forehead and neck, and I take deep breaths, willing myself to remain calm as I feel my body lift into the air.
It’s still again, and I open my eyes slightly and then shut them again. What I’m seeing doesn’t make any sense. Have I gone back in time?
I open my eyes. I’m witnessing a bad dream. My head spins when I slowly recognize my surroundings.
I’m in the dining room of my parents’ old house, lying on the wooden floor.
My head swims when I move it, and I shut my eyes again.
Rough rope bites into my ankles, and a chair moves with me when I try to move my legs. My ankles are tied to the legs of the chair. I could probably get away if I dragged it behind me, but that wouldn’t be smart.
I won’t get far tied to a chair.
I think about my mother, running from her home, and a sick feeling washes over me. I close my eyes to steady my head. The loopy feeling starts to exit my mind as whatever drugs they pumped into my body start to wear off.
That’s when I realize Mercy isn’t with me.
I strain to hear any sign of her and pray she’s just in another room. Footsteps echo down the hallway and stop outside the door, and I press myself against the floor, trying to make myself seem small.
Through my eyelashes, I watch Alexander stride in and walk toward the table. Gunsyn joins him, opens the whisky bottle, and pours two glasses. I don’t dare open my eyes more, but I don’t need to see to feel the tension between them. The tension in the room is thicker than the rope around my ankles.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Alexander hisses. His words are venomous, laced with rage. “Your plan better work because there is no turning back from this clusterfuck.”
“Dear Alexander,” Gunsyn drawls, and a wicked laugh erupts from his mouth. “You were the one who said the younger one would be easier to control than the older one. And everything is so close now. So, take some credit for your idea-well, part of it.”
“Control?” Alexander snorts. “That arrogant ass has a stronger will than his father. Do you really think he’ll make a deal with us in exchange for her?”
Gunsyn laughs. “He’d do anything for her. And we now have an unexpected third player in our little game.”
“I’m not sure if this is the way.” Alexander’s tone reveals his doubt.
“He found the journals,” declares Gunsyn. “He’s soft, not dumb. He was figuring it out. I could tell by how he looked at me that something had changed.”
“It doesn’t mean he would have done anything.”
“He’ll look weak by doing nothing,” Gunsyn scoffs. “If I was pakhan, the Lanzzare would be soot and dust. Instead, he wants to marry one of them. No one in the Bratva will put up with his pretty little wife.”
“Even after all these years,” Alexander replies, “it still amazes me how easily people are manipulated by their emotions.”
“Like I said, he’s too damn soft,” Gunsyn snarls. “Desmier didn’t want Mikhail involved in anything dangerous. He went on and on about how Mikhail wasn’t ready and needed more time.”
“He was a child,” Alexander muses. “Anyone could guess how it would’ve ended.”
“You said Desmier volunteering to take his brother’s place was a gift,” Gunsyn says, annoyed. “How stupid.”
“Stupid or not,” Alexander replies, “it would’ve worked.”
“Except for our little complication.”
As they continue talking, my body is rigid with anger as I learn how these men manipulated Mikhail and his brother. My heart aches, knowing it could’ve been different if one person knew the truth about these men back then. My father found out too late, and they destroyed him like they are trying to destroy Mikhail. What will happen when he comes home and sees what they have done? Sensing the lull in the conversation, I lie motionless, wondering if they’re watching me.
“You know who is to blame,” Gunsyn says, his voice dripping with malice. “Ippolit missed.”
My blood runs cold, and my hands tremble. I know they’re talking about my mother.
“Missed?” Alexander scoffs. “Ippolit wanted to play with his food. A mistake enabled by his inability to anticipateyourfailure.”
There’s silence before Alexander talks again. “You can’t touch her. We’ll need the money if this backfires.”
“You’re really going to blue-ball me now?” Gunsyn laughs. “Do you even have a buyer yet?”
“It won’t take long to find one.”
Something falls upstairs, and their footsteps dash out of the room. I open my eyes and see I’m alone again. I manage to lift up on one elbow, but damn, I feel too dizzy and sore all over to move. I lay my head on the floor again. But if I don’t try … I sit up and my head swims, but I don’t fall over. On the table, one of them has left behind their phone.
As the drugs wear off, my hearing becomes sharper. Somewhere down the hall, I hear shouting. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s Mercy.
“I’ll see you in hell!” she screams.
“I’ll see you broken!” Gunsyn shouts back.
My fingertips graze the phone and it spins, thankfully toward me. More shouting, and I pray she won’t push them too hard. I touch the screen, but it’s locked. Not giving up now. Tilting my head, I see the light reflects dirty smudges that form an angular squiggle. I trace it with my fingertip and the phone unlocks.
“Call Mikhail,” I whisper. The phone picks up before the second ring.
“You are dead for this …”
“Mikhail, we’re at my parents’ house.”
“Maria?” I hear shock and relief in his voice.
“Please, they’re going to hurt her.” I end the call when I hear a sharp blow from upstairs and a bloodcurdling shriek from Mercy. I crawl away from the table and knock a chair over. I keep kicking it until they come running back into the room.
“Have a nice nap?” Alexander smirks as he rolls down the cuffs of his shirt.
“Leave her alone,” I hiss.
I try not to show any fear or hesitation on my face as he walks closer to me. He kneels beside me and grabs my chin, searching my eyes for anything that might give him an advantage. But there’s nothing left for him; I’ve already made the call to Mikhail, and I know there isn’t anything they’ll do to me.
“You still need me alive if you want my baby,” I whisper.
He pushes me away, sending me sprawling back onto the floor with a loud thud.
“So you think,” he sneers. “We have enough.” He stands up, motioning Gunsyn toward the door. “We have what we need,” he says casually before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe.
My eyes widen at the sight.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures me as the needle pierces my skin. “This won’t harm the baby … much. And when you wake, Maria Zakharovna, you’ll find yourself in a brand-new world. A far better one than what your cousin will have.”
“Wh-” I try to speak, but my tongue feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. My mouth refuses to cooperate, and I fight to keep my eyes focused on Alexander.
“You should be glad.” His snake-like eyes are practically gleaming. “I’ve kept your cousin safe from Gunsyn. But what happens to her after … Well, that’s no longer in my hands to control.”
No. Please no! I want to scream, but I can’t. Don’t hurt her!
The needle is extracted and thrown aside. Exhaustion burns like fire through my veins, and I slip into a forced sleep. When I wake up, all I hear is the sound of a car outside. Gunsyn barely glances up from his phone as Alexander steps through the door. I sit up straight, staring at him wildly.
“Where is she?” I demand.
Alexander grins at me, a cruel smile spreading on his face. “Gone. Best not think about her anymore, Maria Zakharovna. It won’t do you or her any good.”
I feel a wave of panic wash over me.
What happened to Mercy while I was knocked out?