Page 4

Adrik

I sat at my desk, the dim glow of my computer screen casting sharp shadows across the room.

Papers were strewn across the surface, reports and encrypted messages demanding my attention, but my focus kept slipping.

My mind wandered back to the cell within the compound, to the hacker—the White Rabbit—who was defying every expectation.

I drummed my fingers on the desk, scowling at the fact that she had penetrated my thoughts.

By now, most prisoners would be broken, their resolve shattered by the suffocating darkness, the silence, the stench.

Begging, crying, pleading for mercy—I’d heard it all before.

But not her. Not this one.

It annoyed me, this stubborn defiance.

Who was she, this auburn-haired ghost who refused to break? I hadn’t gotten a good look at her during the capture—just a flash of her hair, the glint of fear in her eyes before I walked away.

The crazy woman had been ready to jump out of the window.

She was resourceful in her need to survive—littering the hallway with broken glass.

Yet here she was, lingering in my thoughts like an unsolved equation.

My jaw tightened as I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight.

She was supposed to be a means to an end, a loose end to tie up, but her resilience was...intriguing.

Unsettling. It pissed me off, this curiosity was like an irritating splinter I couldn’t ignore.

Pushing myself to my feet, I straightened my suit with a sharp tug—enough waiting.

If the cell wouldn’t break her, I would.

I needed answers, yes, but more than that, I needed to see her face to understand what made her different.

As I strode down the dimly lit hallway, my footsteps echoing against the walls, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

The White Rabbit had held out longer than most, but no one could withstand me forever.

I would see to her personally.

Viktor was guarding the building, ensuring no one would enter her cell to either free her or kill her.

He saw me approach and took one last drag from his cigarette before pushing it into his can of soft drink.

He had been rough in bringing her out of her apartment, but this was no surprise to me.

An attack on the Bratva—on me in any form was unacceptable.

“Any change?”

I asked, curious to know if she was suddenly begging for her life.

“There has been no change since my last report, Pakhan,”

he said before he opened the door for me.

I stepped inside the building, and Viktor walked past me to unlock the door. We reached the cell, and I pulled out my handkerchief to cover my mouth and nose while he opened the door. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw her lying on the dirty floor. Her hoody was up, but her hair covered her face.

“Check her pulse,”

I snapped at him.

Viktor crouched down beside her to move her hair away from her neck and placed his fingers to check her pulse. Her face was bruised on one side, and she had a cut at the bridge of her nose.

“She is alive but most likely dehydrated,”

he said, remaining beside her.

“A stubborn little krolik,”

I mused. “It’s time we got some answers. Tie her up in the interrogation room and leave two water bottles there.”

“Any food?”

he asked as he lifted her, throwing her over his shoulder.

I frowned at the sight of her dirty jeans. Her hoody was probably stinking as well.

“No food, and leave the windows open,”

I said before going back outside to get some fresh air in my lungs.

I stood for a moment wondering what the fuck was wrong with the woman who’d spent three days and nights in a shit-infested room without begging for mercy—my mercy. Was she truly willing to die? I took a few deep breaths of air before preparing myself for the stench in the room.

Viktor had tied her up to the wooden chair. Her ankles were bound to the legs, and her arms to the armrests. The barred windows were open, and I reached for a bottle of water.

“Hold her head up,”

I said, not wanting to touch her. “You did a number on her face.”

He shrugged but kept her head upright. I poured the bottle of water over her face, and she began to splutter as it ran down to her hoody. She blinked the water out of her eyes, but the bright light was too much for her. Her eyes closed again, but not before I saw her warm mahogany eyes.

“I am Adrik Ilyin, Pakhan of the Bratva. Do you know why you are here?”

I asked coldly, remembering what she did.

“Da,”

she croaked out but kept her eyes closed.

“Give her some water,”

I said to Viktor.

Viktor held her by her chin as he trickled some water into her mouth. She began to gasp and quickly drank the water. It ran down her chin, but it didn't matter because she was already soaked. Her dark hair had the same reddish tinge as her brown eyes.

I dragged a chair from the corner, scraping it along the concrete floor until I was close enough to intimidate her but far enough not to vomit from the smell. Viktor moved the bottle away, and it took her a moment to close her mouth. Her cognitive and motor skills would be fully functional in a few hours.

I waited patiently until her eyes flickered open, but she frowned and narrowed her eyes at the lighting before scrunching her face up. The tube lights were old and not particularly bright, but after remaining in darkness for three days, they must seem as bright as the sun.

“Name,” I said.

“Ania Zaitseva,”

she said as her eyes began to open.

“Why did you hack into my data?”

“It was for a job. I had no idea that you were the target,”

she said before looking away uncomfortably at the floor.

“Who gave you the job?”

“Someone called the Fox,”

she said, glancing up. “I-I don't know their identity.”

I glanced at Viktor, who was standing behind her. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back until she struggled against the rope around her wrists.

“Argh. Please. I swear to you, I don't know who it was. They told me exactly where to look and what to download. It is someone you know, not me.”

“The great White Rabbit couldn't find an identity. I find that hard to believe,”

I said, watching her struggle and gasp in pain.

“They never logged on again. I tried my best to track the person down,”

she said before closing her eyes again but began to pant through the pain.

I raised my hand, and Viktor released her hair.

“What did you do with my stolen files?”

I asked, watching her. This time, she hesitated before wincing as she spoke.

“I kept a copy for insurance. Nothing else,”

she whispered with her chin resting on her chest.

“I expect this back,”

I said tightly, trying to control my anger.

“It’s stitched inside my bag.”

I glanced at Viktor, who nodded and assured me that her bag was secure.

“Why didn't you beg for mercy in the cell?”

I asked softly, leaning over to examine her with my elbows resting on my legs.

She raised her head slowly, blinking a few times before she stared back at me.

“How could I beg for mercy when I know you have none?”

she said just as softly.

I sat back in my chair until the old wood creaked, studying her. There wasn't a single tear in her eyes. She wasn't begging me for her life.

She was either a brave or stupid krolik.

Time will tell which of the two she was.