Boris’ face is contorted with fury as drags me into what can only be described as the dingiest room in this already seedy club. It’s small, filthy, and reeks of stale smoke and sweat. He pushes me down onto a rickety chair and starts tying my wrists behind my back. The ropes bite into my skin, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me wince.
‘Let me go, you asshole!’ I snap, my voice laced with venom. ‘Do you really think this is going to end well for you?’
He just smirks, a twisted grin that makes my skin crawl. ‘You’re quite feisty, aren’t you? But it won’t do you any good. If your husband fails to do what we want, you’ll be coming back to Russia with me. I could fetch a good price for a sassy blonde back home.’
I snort, despite the fear curling in my stomach. ‘I’d chew through your neck before I let that happen.’
His eyes narrow, and I can tell my words have hit a nerve. ‘You should be careful, little girl. You’re not in a position to make threats.’
I glare at him, my anger flaring. ‘My husband will tear you apart for this.’
He laughs, a sound that’s as unpleasant as his presence. ‘Your husband? He’s going to be too busy trying to save his own skin. And if he fails, well…’ His gaze rakes over me, making my skin crawl. ‘I have plans for you.’
I want to spit in his face, to fight and scream, but I know it won’t help. Instead, I force myself to calm down, to think. Ivan is out there, and he’ll come for me. He has to.
Boris leaves, locking the door behind him, and I’m alone in the dim, filthy room. I test the ropes but they’re tight, unyielding. I’m stuck, at least for now.
The silence allows my mind to go in ten different directions. Ivan, where are you? What are you doing? You have to come for me. We have a future to think about, a baby to raise. I can’t let this be the end. I won’t.
My thoughts focus on the baby growing inside me, and a fierce determination takes root. I have to protect him or her, I have to survive this nightmare. I close my eyes, focusing on the little life growing inside me, allowing it to be my strength now, my reason to keep fighting.
I start to wriggle, trying to loosen the ropes binding my wrists. I twist and turn, ignoring the sting and burn against my skin. After what feels like an eternity, I feel the ropes give just a bit.
With a few more determined twists, the ropes loosen enough for me to pull one hand free.
‘Yes!’ I whisper triumphantly to myself. My fingers are numb, but I quickly work on freeing my other hand. Once I’m completely untied, I rub my sore wrists, trying to bring back some feeling into them.
I stand up, my legs shaky but functional. I start searching the room, looking for any sort of window or hidden door.
My search reveals a small, grimy window high up on the wall. It’s not ideal, but it’s something. I drag the chair over, wincing at the screeching noise it makes against the floor. Standing on the chair, I reach the window and push against it. It’s stuck, but I’m not giving up. I push harder, throwing my weight into it, and finally, it creaks open.
Cool air hits my face and I take a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of hope. The window is small, but I’m determined. I start to squeeze through, the rough edges scraping against my skin. It’s a tight fit, but inch by inch, I manage to get myself through the opening.
I drop quietly from the window and replace myself in a narrow, dimly lit hallway. I’m free from the room, but not out of danger yet. I need to be smart and move quickly as possible.
I tiptoe down the hallway, every sense heightened. I have no idea where I am, but I need to replace an exit, a phone, something to help me get back to Ivan.
I turn a corner and freeze. Another hallway, longer than the previous one, doors lining each side. It’s eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that screams hidden danger. My mind races, urging me to make a decision. Forward or back?
Before I can choose, a door swings open ahead of me. My heart sinks as Boris steps out, flanked by two of his men.
His face twists into a cruel smile. ‘You don’t give up do you?’ he taunts.
I back away, but it’s pointless. The men grab me, their grips iron-tight. Boris’ eyes are cold and menacing.
‘Seems you need a lesson in staying put,’ he says, his voice unnervingly calm.
Every nerve-ending fires within, signaling a fight-or-flight response at the terror of not knowing what’s to come.
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