Page 39

I need to eat. I need to move.
Before I can talk myself out of doing it, I find myself standing up on shaky legs, walking through the room. I take hesitant steps into the hallway, and I continue walking until I’m near the makeshift kitchen. It’s pathetic—I know it is—but the thought of food is the only thing drawing me forward.
And as I step inside, I spot the twins.
They’realwayshere with me.
Nikolai sits at the table, his posture relaxed, yet also commanding. His eyes track my every movement as I walk towards him, his gaze sharp and calculating.
Mikhail leans against the counter, a slight smirk playing at his lips as he watches me approach them both.
Ignoring them, I focus on the plate of food already on the table, and my stomach growls louder.
My face flushes with embarrassment but I don’t care.
I’m too hungry to care.
Two slices of bread, both slathered with a thick layer of strawberry jam, are waiting for me.
I sit down opposite Nikolai, reaching out for the plate. The ache of hunger overpowers the sickening feeling in my stomach, so I don’t hesitate to take a bite of the food, chewing before I force it down. As I continue eating, I feel their eyes all over me.
Their stares are heavy and relentless, like weights pressing down on my shoulders. It makes my skin crawl, knowing that my every movement is magnified under their scrutiny. I want to shout at them, to demand that they stop staring at me like this, but I can’t. The words are stuck in my throat, trapped by fear and exhaustion.
The silence in this room is unbearable.
When I’m finally done eating, Mikhail passes me a plastic cup filled with water, and I greedily drink it all. I glance between both men, suddenly feeling my throat become dry.
Nikolai leans forward in his seat, both elbows resting on the table, one eyebrow lifting to look at me.
“Good girl.”
He says, his voice smooth, almost like a predator toying with its prey.
I quickly look away from him, feeling heat blooming in my cheeks.
I can’t keep living like this, trapped in this endless loop of fear and uncertainty, but there’s no other choice.
Discreetly glancing over towards the hallway, I wonder how they even leave from here. I’ve looked all over, but there’s no sign of a door, or even any windows I can crawl out of.
There’s no way to escape this hell.
Mikhail chuckles softly, the sound dark and mocking. I look over at him.
“Don’t even think about it.” He murmurs. “We’ll just find you all over again, and tie you up too if that’s what you want.”
A shiver runs through me.
I drop my eyes to the table, my heart beating hard in my chest.
They’ve taken everything from me—my freedom, my sense of time, even my dignity—and I hate them for it.
But more than anything, I hate myself for being so weak, so afraid to even attempt to fight back.
The only thing I can do now is sit here, giving them the satisfaction of being able to watch me, and dissect every little move of mine. It terrifies me to think that this might be my new normal.
Nikolai speaks again, his steady voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
“Tell me something, darling.” I take a deep breath in before I even think about looking up. When I do meet his eyes, the weight of his gaze as it bores into me is enough to make my heart stop beating altogether. “How do you know about the Russians?” Nikolai asks, his tone calm yet also dangerous in a way. “How do you know about the Italians?” My stomach flips. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as my heart rate picks up too. “You’re from London.” He continues, tilting his head slightly as he watches me. “You’re aLondongirl, Chiara. How the hell do you know about things like that?”