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Ania

They wouldn't stop coming for me, and two of my hideouts had been burned in the last three weeks.

The current one might last longer if I didn't show my face.

There were cameras everywhere, and I was sure they were now using facial recognition programmes to track me.

I hadn't logged onto anything since that night.

I sold my bike and bought a different one to avoid detection through the number plate. The worst part about being on the run was the lack of sleep.

This was my last property.

It was at the city's edge in a rundown part of town.

I’d covered the hallway with broken glass and set up two motion detectors to flash lights inside the apartment.

My escape route would be to jump out of the window, but since it was two floors up, I’d left a large open bin beneath my window for a softer landing.

It wasn’t ideal, but I was running out of options.

I knew too much about the Bratva leader.

He created misery and death wherever he went.

There was nothing they didn’t have their hands in: human trafficking, drugs, arms and gambling.

The man profited from people’s suffering.

He was not someone I ever wanted to be involved with. When my reputation brought attention to me, the organisation approached me, but I quickly shut their invitation down.

After taking a shower and having a simple meal, I put on my clothes in bed with my go-bag on the floor beside me.

It took me a while to relax my mind and body.

I stared at the patch of mould on the ceiling until I fell asleep.

It didn't matter.

I’d lived in worse places.

***

The lights flashed, and I jerked upright to swing my legs off the bed.

After shoving my boots on, I placed my backpack on and edged toward the door.

It could be a neighbour or a cat that set the sensor off.

When I heard the glass crunching and someone curse, I knew it was time to go.

While I ran to the window, I mentally prepared to jump down the two floors.

I slid the window open and stuck the block of wood in it to keep it from falling down on me.

It looked all clear outside, and my bin was still in place.

I heard my door crack open as they began to use force.

I climbed out of the window just as there was a crashing sound. I took a few deep breaths, trying not to look down before pushing myself off, but I dangled in mid-air.

“Privet, malen'kiy krolik.”

Hello, little rabbit.

The voice was deep, and the words were slow, with exaggerated pronunciation.

“Pozhaluysta, otpustite menya,”

I whispered to him without looking up. Please, let me go.

“You accessed my data. You stole from me. I think we both know you aren't going anywhere,”

he said coldly, dragging me back through the window.

I ducked my head in time, but I didn't get a chance to stand up because he dropped me on the floor.

“Viktor put her in the trunk. I don't want the stench of this place in my car,” he said.

When I looked up, I counted five men, six if I counted the Bratva boss, but he was already out of the room.

I was scrambling to my feet when a large bearded man reached for me.

He didn't use my bag or the scruff of my neck to grip me.

His fingers took a fistful of my hair and began to drag me out of the apartments.

I screamed when I felt the burning pain on my scalp, but I quickly stood up and tried to keep up with his pace.

“I can see why someone stabbed you in the face,”

I screamed at him.

I tried to push his hand away as we approached the stairs, but he yanked harder, causing me to trip.

He dragged me down the stairs with my legs hitting each cement step.

When we got to the landing, I tried to stand up, but he did the same with the next step of the stairs.

He was ripping my hair out from the roots.

My hands were occupied trying to free my hair, and I saw the cement wall too late.

He smashed my face off the corner of the wall, and everything went black.

It didn't matter because I was dead either way.

***

When I woke up, everything was black.

I thought the brute might have blinded me, but as I touched the floor and followed the walls around the cell, I realised that they had me in a sunless room.

The reinforced metal door and the filth in the room indicated this was where they held their prisoners.

I was either in a basement or some industrial building.

“Hello, darkness, my old friend,”

I whispered.

“I remember you well.”

I sat on the cold floor, grateful my boots were still on my person.

My face ached, but I didn't dare touch it because my hands felt dirty.

The room smelled of urine and excrement.

If I didn't vomit to death from the stench, an infected cut would do the job.

They would interrogate and torture me before they killed me.

The man—Viktor, was an enforcer, but Pyotr and Sergéy had taken over his job. They needed two men to replace the brute, and I could see why.

There were his two top men, Gavriil and Díma, with the squad of enforcers, captains, and soldiers beneath them.

The accountant had a top position, but he was an older man.

Someone within his organisation hired me, and he would want a name that I couldn't give him.

He only gave me the code name Fox.

Once they found out I knew nothing, they would kill me.

I thought of how hard I fought in this life, and for what?

Rurik was a good man.

He would follow my last wishes.

He was the only human I trusted, and he probably knew it because he was the only one I ever told my real name to.

I tried to think of my mother, but like always, it was no good.

Her memory was vague, and they never kept any pictures of her.

I breathed through my mouth and prepared myself for what was to come.

The world never did me any favours, and I didn't expect to survive this.

I rested my head on the wall.

It was probably smeared in shit, but at this point in time, I didn't care.

I was doomed.

***

A groan escaped from my dry mouth and lips when I moved.

My head had fallen on my knees, causing my neck and shoulders to ache along with my face.

My empty stomach growled in hunger, and I wondered how long I’d been here.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but that might be due to a concussion.

I stopped myself from touching my face again. What I did remember was having to piss in the corner of the damn cell.

I stood up and stretched out my back.

Luckily, I was wearing a vest top with a T-shirt and a hoody.

They had my bag, but this wasn't a surprise.

A thought occurred to me, and I dug into my hoody pockets to find two hard candies.

I carefully unwrapped one and, using the wrapper, put it in my mouth, savouring the citrus-flavoured treat. It wouldn't get me far, but it was better than nothing.

I tried to suck on it slowly, wanting it to last and savour it.

The tactic didn't work, and it was gone too soon.

I began to pace around the cell, keeping the cold at bay, and to think.

I had the thumb drive with his data on it, but I’d not sent it anywhere and certainly not to the Fox.

Think, Ania, think.

How can I get out of this shithole?

***

The small cell became a suffocating void, the stench of human waste clinging to the darkness. My world had shrivelled up to the cold, damp floor and the deafening silence that constantly rang around my ears.

Time blurred as I replayed my capture—my hacking, the Bratva’s brutal hands, the sudden plunge into this nightmare. I don't know how long I had been in here, but the hallucinations crept in: whispers, footsteps, distant clangs.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

I called out, my voice hoarse.

But there was only a resounding silence—never an answer.

My mouth was parched, the hard-boiled candies from my pocket long gone.

The persistent hunger clawed at my gut, and my mind teetered on collapse.

Fear consumed me, a relentless tide of despair.

I imagined Adrik’s cold eyes and the Bratva’s reputation for brutality.

Would they interrogate me, or had they already decided that I was disposable? The uncertainty clawed at my insides, a gnawing dread that left me gasping in the stifling darkness.

I lay down on the filthy cold floor and closed my burning eyes.

Hope flickered out, replaced by grim acceptance.

Curled in the void, I was no longer a hacker, no longer a person—just another broken soul waiting for the end.