Page 12

Time dragged on; one day turned into two, two turned three, three turned four, and before I knew what was happening, I’d been here for almost a week now. A whole fucking week of nothing but utter misery, pain, and a thin thread of hope. This was a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from, a prison that I couldn’t seem to escape, no matter how hard I tried.

The very walls themselves felt like they were suffocating me; the air was poison, and the only good thing was the food. It hurt me to admit it, but that was the bitter truth. As much as I tried to deny it, the truth remained the truth. The chef always made mouthwatering meals that were too good to ignore.

Daniel had nothing to do with the preparation of the meals, so enjoying them somehow made me feel less guilty. Other than the food, everything else sucked, and with each passing day, I missed my home—my real home, not this hellhole

I had no idea what was happening in the outside world, no idea how my father was doing, how the police case was going. This man, Daniel Tarasov, had completely shut me off from the rest of the world, leaving me in the dark. And these high walls were no better than the police cell I’d been thrown into on the night of my wedding.

My life was a living hell, one that I couldn’t get out of—well, not yet, anyway. I’d studied the mansion, observed the guards and their routine. However, each time I thought I was getting close to something that resembled a pattern, a loophole, they’d switch tactics, leaving me utterly confused and back at square one.

It was so bad for me that I started to think at some point that they were messing with me, the stupid guards. Maybe they understood my game and decided to show me that they were better at it. The way they effortlessly frustrated my efforts was so fucking infuriating.

But was I going to give up? No. It wasn’t in my nature to back down from a fight. The fact that these men had tightened their security only meant that they didn’t underestimate me; they saw me as a threat, a force to be reckoned with. If they thought that I had it in me to find a loophole and maybe even escape, then now was the time to think smarter, faster. They finally saw me as a worthy opponent in this little game. Good.

Daniel enjoyed toiling with me, tormenting me and making my life miserable. It somehow brought him joy because, to him, this was a game, and I was a plaything. But the truth was this: I was no plaything. I was a player just like him, and if I was going to beat him at his own game, I’d have to start thinking differently.

The reason Daniel had the upper hand wasn’t just because he owned the house; it was because my fear gave him an edge over me. I’d been watching him closely these days, searching for cracks in his composure, for any sign of weakness. But the man was hard as a fucking rock—unreadable, always annoyingly calm and in control. I hated that; it infuriated me and made me feel so helpless and at his mercy.

I was trapped in this little game, and he seemed to hold all the fucking pieces! He was always one, two, three steps ahead of me all the fucking time!

I was suffocating in here, and with each passing day, my determination to leave this place amplified. I’d have to find a way out—one way or another.

It had been almost a week already, and I still couldn’t stand being around him. His energy was bad, condescending, and it filled the whole damn air that I breathed. Everywhere I turned, he was there, watching me, mocking me, tormenting me with that pesky little smirk of his. He never passed on the opportunity to make my life miserable, to remind me of my situation and inability to escape him.

I’d yet to understand the reason for all of this—the reason why he chose to make me suffer. I still didn’t know what I or my father did wrong. What had been done to piss off Daniel Tarasov? Why was I the one paying for it? And to think the punishment was a fate worse than death.

There were only two ways that I could escape my reality: through my own imagination or in my sleep—my dreams. But somehow, this man still found a way into my subconscious, transforming any dreams into fucking nightmares.

That night, I went to bed, and like every other night since I got here, I fell asleep in the early hours of the next morning. This was because I was up all night, thinking, planning, and strategizing my next move.

In my dream, it was my wedding day, the perfect and untainted version of what could have been.

Liam stood across from me, dressed in his impeccably tailored black tuxedo, his dark hair neatly styled. A fine, charming smile played on his lips as he stared into my eyes as though gazing into his future.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of fresh flowers and the perfect blend of my perfume and his cologne. Our guests, dressed in their finest, sat on the church pews, their eyes shining with adoration.

The soft melody of the classic “Wedding March” wafted through the atmosphere, adding to the serene ambiance.

My heart raced with anticipation in my slowly heaving chest, my smile broadening as I held Liam’s gaze. I felt so lucky to get married to the perfect gentleman, charming in every way.

“Do you, Scarlett O’Sullivan, take this man, Liam Callahan, to be your lawfully wedded husband…?” the priest began, his voice smooth and calm.

“I do,” I replied, wasting no time at all.

He turned and faced Liam, whose gaze was still locked to mine. “Do you, Liam Callahan, take this woman, Scarlett O’Sullivan, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, till death do you part?”

Liam’s eyes narrowed, and his smile melted my heart. “I do.”

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The crowd erupted into a heavy round of applause, and Liam pulled me to himself, his lips crashing against mine. I felt the whole world melting away as I wrapped my arms around him, my tongue sliding into his mouth.

Right there on the altar, in front of all those people, our kiss intensified, heads tilting to the rhythm of this brewing passion. The fervor of this kiss left me breathless, wanting more, my body colliding against his.

Just as I was getting carried away by the pleasure of his tongue in my mouth, I felt it—the sharp pain of a canine piercing my flesh. He’d bit my lower lip with a ferocious bite.

“Aw!” I pulled away, shock sprinting down my spine. My hand reflexively flew to my mouth, fingertip brushing over the deep cut that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

Liam raised his head with a slow, menacing motion that stole my breath. The atmosphere switched to something darker, and the guests’ screams caught my attention. I turned to the congregation, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched them being held at gunpoint by armed Russian goons.

“You’re mine, printsessa .” That familiar thick and husky voice sent tremors down my core.

I froze on the spot, my body stiffening, my breath lodged in my throat. I felt my pulse escalate as I cautiously turned back to face the man beside me. It wasn’t Liam, no. It was Daniel. He stood there with that signature smirk on his face, his brown eyes staring into my soul. Daniel’s tongue stuck out and licked the blood smeared on his lower lip—my blood.

His eyes, dark as the night, bore into mine, his gaze crippling my legs. I thought I was staring at the devil himself—literally—and goosebumps crawled over my skin.

“Help…me,” Liam strained to mutter on the floor, drowning in the pool of his own blood. His face was battered beyond recognition, his hand stretched out toward me.

I shook my head, withdrawing from the horrible scene unfolding in front of me. Darkness closed in on me, and my hands were covered in blood. My wedding dress was ripped at the hem, and dirt smeared my face. Everything was happening so fast that I couldn’t tell or understand a thing.

My brain was blank, my eyes misty with a blurry vision as I raised my head, staring at this demon in front of me.

Daniel’s slow, menacing footsteps echoed through the church’s high walls as he approached me, his evil smirk broadening. “You’re never gonna escape. You’re mine now,” he said, his voice distorted and terrifying.

I woke up so suddenly with my hand on my chest as if to prevent my heart from jumping out. Gasping for air, my breath was heavy, my forehead dampened with sweat. “Oh, God,” I whispered, scared to my bones.

My palms cupped my face for a moment, my mind still reeling from this horrible nightmare. “It’s just a dream,” I added, combing my fingers through my hair.

I wasn’t sure which was worse: the nightmare or my reality.

My face contorted into a frown as I shifted my gaze toward the other side of the bed. Daniel was asleep, his face toward the ceiling. I could swear that he had that same smirk, even in reality, and it was so fucking disturbing.

I slipped back under the sheets, lying on my side, my heart still racing in my chest. There was truly no way I could escape this man, not even in my dreams. This statement couldn’t be more literal.

A few minutes after the nightmare, I managed to fall asleep, and by the time I woke up, it was already daybreak; Daniel was gone. I went about my regular morning routine: I had a bath, got dressed, and went downstairs to have breakfast.

While walking down the double curved staircase, I heard Daniel’s muffled voice, as if he were talking to someone. It was so faint that I could barely make out what he was saying. However, the closer I drew to the living room, the clearer his voice became. Daniel was speaking in his native Russian tongue, so there was no way I could tell what he was saying anyway.

On reaching the base of the staircase, Daniel and his right-hand man, Ilya, came into view. Daniel was still talking, a hand in his pocket with a posture that was both poised and confident. Ilya spotted me behind his boss, and his eyes—those scary eyes—locked onto mine. Daniel traced his gaze and turned around to face me, his expression softening ever so slightly.

He leaned toward Ilya and whispered something I assumed to be a dismissal, considering that Ilya left soon after. Daniel headed toward me, his eyes never leaving mine.

The closer he drew, the more tense I became and the more I struggled with my breathing. But I wouldn’t let him see just how much of an effect he had on me. This was the part where he’d make a sassy, arrogant remark about me or my situation that would essentially ruin the rest of my day.

I steeled myself, holding his gaze, ready to shoot back whatever he’d throw at me.

Daniel halted a couple of paces away, his lips curling into his signature smirk—except this time, it looked a little less like a smirk and more like a grin, an actual grin. Weird.

“It appears you’re well rested,” he said, his tone smooth and charming, eyes roaming my body for a fleeting moment. “Not bad.”

My brows furrowed, but I didn’t respond; I just stared back in silence, wondering what game he was playing that morning. I waited for the usual demeaning and condescending words he often threw at me. But today, there was nothing like that. The conversation ended with an actual remark and a genuine smile.

No. This wasn’t the monster who kidnapped me and forced me to marry him. He was up to something, and whatever it was, I knew I wouldn’t like it. This was another one of Daniel’s schemes to confuse me and spice up the game. So, no. I wouldn’t fall for that.

He was playing smart—safe. Daniel knew that I was studying him, trying to understand him or find a weakness. This change in tactics was intentional. He wanted to mess with me, to plunge me into a state of confusion and make me question what I thought I’d understood about him.

Let him have his fun. I’d wait.

It didn’t matter how long it took; eventually, I’d find that weakness, that pattern. I’d crack his code, find a way out of this place, and make a run for it.

But until then, there was still a lot of work to be done.