I was awake, though I didn’t know when I woke up-or if I ever truly slept at all. Tied up in the back seat of this rusted, suffocating car. The leather was cold and biting against my skin, and the ropes were cutting into my wrists, biting into my flesh with every shudder of my body. I felt numb. Numb to the world, numb to myself, and numb to the horror that had become my reality.
I couldn’t remember when everything began to fracture inside me. One moment, I was someone who believed in love, in family; the next, I was trapped in a nightmare where every whispered word and every coarse touch shredded what little remained of my sanity. My mind spun in a vortex of betrayal and terror, and I loathed myself for the weakness I felt-a paralyzing, self-hating numbness that I couldn’t seem to shake off.
Outside, through the thin barrier of the car’s window, I heard them. Their voices slice through the silence like razors. My father and Lucius. I strained to catch every word, every venomous syllable.
“…once Judas Romanovski is dead… Alexei Volkov will have no one heir except his incompetent son. Blast the hospital they’re in and let the fuckers die.”
“…and she’ll be mine… won’t she? You said… my daughter… fuck, I need to see my son… he’s grown…”
“…deal is a deal…”
The words send a shock of disbelief and dread coursing through me. My heart pounded so fiercely I was sure it would shatter the silence in the cramped confines of this car.
I tried to speak, to command myself into action. I clenched my fists, and with a desperate burst of will, I kicked the car window repeatedly. The impact of my boots against the unyielding glass echoed in my ears, reminding me of my helplessness. The window didn’t budge. It was as if the very world was refusing to offer me an escape.
Suddenly, the door hissed open, and the sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air. Lucius stepped into the car with an unholy grace, his eyes glinting with malice. Before I could even register his movement, he was upon me-rough hands, a leering sneer. His grip was like iron, and every touch as a violation, a twisted punctuation in this on-going sentence of abuse.
“Quiet now,” he hissed. “You wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, would you?”
His words were a poison that seeped into my bones. He forced my head to tilt back as his hand roams over my exposed skin like I was nothing more than a commodity-a pawn in their sick game. His filthy whispers continue. “Don’t worry, you won’t die. I’ll make sure you look right in his eyes as I put a bullet in his head.”
He spoke of plans so inhuman it made my stomach churn. Plans of selling me, of trading me like some morbid piece of merchandise. And then, as if my torment wasn’t enough, he spoke of my brother.
I wanted to scream, to fight back, but terror had its claws deep inside me. A nauseating mixture of self-hatred and despair wrapped around my heart, and I wondered, bitterly, if I deserved any of this. I loathed the part of me that felt weak, that crumbled under the weight of their cruelty. Every fibre of my being rebelled at the thought that I could ever be complicit in my own undoing.
But something inside me ignited-a spark of fury, a primal instinct to survive. I twisted and kicked. My foot connected with his shin, and he stumbled back, his grip faltering. The moment of hesitation was all I need. The world tilted, and for an instant, I tasted freedom.
Outside, chaos erupted. I heard the thundering approach of men-my father included. Gunfire broke the night like the crack of a whip. Amidst the chaos, I heard Lucius bark, “Do not shoot her, you fuckers!”
In that split second, adrenaline surged through me. I twisted my body with a desperate fluidity, fighting against the ropes that bound me. I didn’t know if I was fighting for my life or for some remnant of honour lost long ago. I only knew that I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, let them break me completely.
As I jerked against the restraints, my mind flooded with bitter thoughts. I was a broken vessel, shattered by the very hands that were meant to protect me. I loathed myself for trusting, for believing in a love that has turned monstrous.
I heard my father’s voice, layered with a twisted affection that I could no longer comprehend. I saw the glint of his eyes in the dim light-once familiar, now unrecognizable in their cold, calculating depth.
I burst out of the car and ran without looking back. My feet slapped against the rough forest floor, heart pounding in my ears. It was agony. Pure and true torment of not knowing anything at all. I did not recall how far I ran, but one thing I needed to do was get away. As far as I could. And I did. The darkness of night played in my favour. They did not have any source of light so I dwelled deeper into the forest until I almost rolled down the steep cliff.
A choked scream left my lips when I stumbled over gnarled roots and uneven ground until I fell hard, twisting my ankle in the process. Pain exploded along my leg. Shit. Why was this happening to me now?
I forced myself up and kept running. Limping to be exact. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t think of anything but escaping that nightmare.
I ducked behind a low ridge, collapsing in a heap of sobs and ragged breaths. My tears blurred the dirt on my face as I huddled there. Everything now felt like a maze of shadows that offered little comfort. I tried to steady my breathing, willing the pain to dull, when suddenly-a deafening blast tore through the night.
My heart seized.
I crawled toward the ridge’s edge and peered out.
Ashes and dust billowed from the direction of the warehouse like a plague.
My mind raced wildly.
What happened?
Did Lucius just blast his own warehouse? No-there has to be something else.
Was it Judas?
Relief warred with disbelief. Judas? Here?
I remembered Lucius’s words. Fuck… I choked out a sob. What was he doing here?
Before I could unravel the chaos in my head, shouts and the rapid clatter of boots on gravel reached my ears.
I heard the crackle of gunfire, the screams of men and the metallic taste of impending violence seeping into the air.
I pressed myself deeper into the ridge, my aching ankle burning with each heartbeat, my body trembling with terror and adrenaline. I could hear them shouting.
All I could smell was gunpowder and burning flesh.
Like agony and destruction played in the night. A violent note in a song I wanted no part of.
My breath hitched, ragged and shallow, as I curled into myself, pressing deeper into the damp earth.
Suddenly I heard boots thundering over the uneven ground above me, crunching gravel, snapping twigs.
I bit down on my trembling lip, forcing myself to stay silent, but my body betrayed me. My lungs burned, desperate for more air. My ankle pulsed in white-hot pain. Nausea curled up my throat. Not now, Sera. Hold yourself. It would get over. Pain would go away.
A strangled cry tore through the night. Someone was dying. Someone was being slaughtered. “Find her!”
I tried not to imagine what was happening.
Then-footsteps. They grew louder. Near. Too near.
I froze.
Shadows slithered along the ridge, growing, stretching, devouring what little space I had left.
They were close.
I could hear their breathing now.
I clamped a hand over my mouth. If they found me, they wouldn’t just kill me. No, they would tear me apart, piece by piece, and I would die tasting my own screams.
My mind spiralled, my body shaking violently. I was trapped. Cornered. A rat in a cage where death was the only way out.
The wind shifted.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.
A thud. Then another.
I tried to think, to move, but terror had its claws deep in my spine, rooting me in place.
Another gunshot rang out.
Silence followed. Horrible. Oppressive. The kind of silence that always comes before the final scream.
And then-
A voice. Low. Amused. Cruel.
“She’s here.”
My blood ran cold.
******