Page 3

Fourteen hours and three minutes.

That's minus the time I had been sleeping which was unknown.

I counted each second I spent chained to the cold floor in nothing but darkness.

My fur jacket had been removed from my body along with my heels—leaving me in nothing but my dress and stockings.

My jewelry that I could've attempted to use to break the chains was also removed from my body.

I'm also still covered in the blood from the woman I shot dead hours ago.

I've surpassed my own insanity hours ago, especially with my withdrawal from my usual white pills and burning vodka.

But prior to this, I've endured being restrained for hours on end.

It was a form of patience my father taught me over the years.

So I won't give into anything she dares to demand from me.

It's obvious she needs me specifically or she would've killed me.

I'll use that to my advantage.

I glanced over where I assumed the door was, hearing the door knob rattle before a stream of light sliced into the dark room.

I naturally blinked rapidly, growing accustomed to the brightness that slowly took over the room.

Especially when the bright lights were flicked on.

I had to physically fight the urge to look weak and squeeze my eyes shut.

So instead I let my eyes burn, forcing myself to look up at the familiar woman from yesterday.

Or possibly the day before, considering the missing time I failed to count while asleep.

Her hair was styled the exact same way—aside from her outfit which was different.

She wore the same leather jacket with a white tank top underneath and black dress pants.

The same tennis chain clung to her neck among a few other chains while she wore matching rings and bracelets.

"I don't talk to you," I said, my voice raspier than usual which was due to my lack of water.

The woman motioned to the plate in her hand, causing my eyes to snap down, noticing the—

Pancakes?

It's breakfast time.

I've been in here for two nights.

"Nyat," I said, declining the food she offered.

I refuse to take anything from her regardless of how hungry or thirsty I am.

Yet the woman lowered down beside me anyway, setting the plate down and rolling the sleeves of her leather jacket up.

"They will come for me," I said, watching as she calmly cut the stack of pancakes.

Which made my mouth water against my own wishes.

"I sent your men away," the woman said, her familiar raspy voice finally coating the air.

I felt confusion gnaw at me, unsure of how she sent them away so easily.

But I didn't visibly show my puzzlement.

"They come back," I said, as she stuck the fork into the cut-up pieces of pancakes, preparing a bite for me.

"You really should've had a drink with me, Zinovia," the woman said, dipping the bite in the small bowl of syrup.

"I drink with friends," I determined, openly eyeing her presence in distaste before I said, "You are not friends."

The woman glanced up from the plate, locking eyes with me, "I'm not," she agreed, her stare never once wavering from me, "But I can either be your ally or your enemy Zinovia—it's your fucking choice."

I gave her a distasteful look, keeping my mouth clamped shut as she held the bite of pancakes to my lips.

Which didn't affect the woman in the slightest manner.

"Comply or I leave," the woman said, resting the sticky bite of pancakes against my lips that failed to open for her.

"I starve to death then," I mumbled, refusing to submit even an ounce to her, "You lose advantage."

My words made the woman's lips visibly twitch up, "You think I need you Zinovia?" she asked, tilting her head as she eyed my face so openly, "I can have you replaced by tonight."

I clenched my jaw, "I like to see you try," I said, my voice tight and carrying my irritation.

The woman's expression grew more amused, "I don't try—I do," she corrected, suddenly grabbing the front of my neck to hold me in place, forcing the fork past my lips, "But I won't give you the easy way out Zinovia."

I gagged as soon as she slid the fork to the back of my throat, staring down into my watery eyes as her grip tightened around my neck.

"I'll keep you here in the dark for years on end while someone else sits on your throne and rules over your father's mafia," the woman carefully said, earning another gag from me when she slid the fork back even further.

I yanked at my chains, struggling under her hold as she purposely kept sliding the fork back even further.

Until she slid it out of my mouth entirely, leaving me coughing roughly with my throat burning raw.

Which I desperately tried to ignore as I coughed up the mushy bite of pancakes.

"I'm above all the mafia's," the woman explained as she prepared another bite for me, "I worked with your father prior, and while it would be convenient to work with you—I don't mind a fucking replacement."

I immediately leaned away when she neared me with the fork again.

But I could only go so far before she wrapped her hand around my neck and forced me back to my original distance from her.

"You hold no real power here," she said, holding the fork at my lips as if it were optional.

So I parted my lips, allowing her to slide the fork past them to properly feed me a bite.

That I spit right back in her face.

But she swiftly leaned to the side before it could actually land on her face, leaving me more irritated than before.

"We'll try this again tomorrow," she suddenly determined, which didn't affect me in the slightest, considering I'm accustomed to being chained away in rooms for hours or days at a time.

Although, it had been a couple of years since my trainings.

"You'll get one last chance," she said, dropping the fork on the plate with a clatter, "Otherwise I'll let you rot away in here and someone else will rule your father's mafia."

I clenched my jaw as I watched her stand with the plate in her hand, calmly adjusting her jacket before she turned away from me and walked out of the room.

But not before turning the lights off and leaving me in a consuming darkness.

**

I counted every second throughout the day, keeping track of time until my eyes naturally fell closed and my body slumped down on the cold floors.

Where I slept for an unmeasurable amount of time.

All I knew was that it took six hours after I woke up for that door to open again.

I had time to think in all those unmeasurable hours, knowing I needed to calculate beyond this current situation.

Playing hard won't get me far.

Complying will at least get me out of here alive.

So I can come back and blow up this place until it's nothing but ash.

I narrowed my eyes, noticing the familiar man from her office entering the room.

Dario was his name.

His dark hair was shaved into a buzz cut, emphasizing his sharp face—and he wore a black t-shirt and jeans, revealing some of his numerous tattoos.

"She'll be in soon," Dario spoke first, approaching me.

I didn't speak one word.

He'll say more in response.

"I know her well, and she's not bluffing," Dario spoke again, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood a few feet away from me, "She will keep you here for years—and there's already a woman lined up to replace you."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I despise her existence," I gritted.

"Sure," Dario said, raising a brow, "But is that going to grant you freedom? Or your mafia?"

I remained silent—for once at my own expense.

"Your reputation doesn't proceed you" Dario determined, nearly smacking me in the face with his words.

That I did take personally.

"You work for her?" I asked, wanting more background on not just him, but her too.

"I work with her," Dario corrected me, tilting his head in offense, "I'm her right hand."

I nodded once, eyeing his presence—until my eyes snapped to the open door.

"Dario," her familiar voice echoed as she emerged into the dark room, "You don't talk to the captives."

I tilted my head in observation, realizing he came in here against orders to speak to me.

The first sign of loyalty I had witnessed while being here.

"Just warning her what you're capable of," Dario said, not bothering to lie to the woman as he backed out of the room and left us alone entirely.

It was silent as she approached me, now wearing baggy black jeans and a cropped black t-shirt that revealed her muscular stomach and arms crawling with numerous small tattoos.

"How are we feeling today?" she asked me, her voice cutting through the still air.

I remained silent for a moment, reluctantly meeting her dark eyes that stared down at me.

And after sitting with my thoughts and hearing what Dario had to say—I decided to make the best calculated decision.

"I talk," I mumbled reluctantly, holding my chained hands out for her.

The woman nodded once, leaning down as she fished the keys from her pocket.

"Misbehave and the handcuffs go back on," she told me as she unlocked the handcuffs.

Which freed my sore wrists lined with bruises from tugging at the restraints so much.

I grunted as I stumbled onto my feet on my own, refusing to reach out to the woman for support.

"Your name," I gritted as we walked out of the room together.

Or she walked—I limped.

My stomach was aching for food that it made my jaw clench—and my head felt like it was caving in with a pounding dizziness.

"Sevan Cortez," she said, holding the door open so I could walk out into the familiar hallway.

We're still on level one.

"Sevan," I mumbled the name distastefully as we approached the familiar double doors to the office I had been in days ago, "I want a glass of vodka," I said as we walked into the large office.

"If you want it then ask for it," Sevan said as I went to sit on the leather couch with a rough sigh, actively ignoring the pain burning down my body.

"I don't ask," I clarified, eyeing Sevan's sharp face as she stood in front of me.

"And I don't fulfill demands," Sevan countered back, her tone nothing but calm.

I shrugged, suddenly standing from the couch with a tightened jaw.

"I get it myself then," I said as I stared up at her with nothing but irritation.

I had never done anything myself.

"Go for it," Sevan said, her dark eyes never once wavering from mine.

And as soon as I could process a rich cologne invade my senses, I promptly walked past her, determining I was closer to her than I desired.

"Once you sign this accord you can leave," I heard Sevan say as I walked behind the bar.

Meanwhile, she walked over to her desk to grab the thick stack of papers.

I furrowed my brows as I eyed the different vodka bottles.

"I don't drink these," I said, picking up one of the bottles to analyze.

What's a Grey Goose?

"Sounds like a you problem," Sevan determined as she approached me.

I felt my jaw naturally tighten at her sarcasm—desperately needing some sort of alcohol to take the edge off.

So I reluctantly opened the lid of the unfamiliar vodka and took a sip.

My brows furrowed deeper, glancing over to Sevan who stopped right beside me.

"This is water," I said, eyeing the bottle in confusion.

Sevan sat the stack of papers down on the marble counter in front of me, "That's vodka," she said, glancing back to me.

"Americans," I mumbled under my breath, dropping the bottle back into the holder with a clatter.

Until I blinked a few times, feeling my vision blur for a moment.

It also didn't help that my stomach was clawing its way out of me—and the only thing I filled it with was American vodka.

"The accord, Zinovia," Sevan reminded me, motioning down to the stack of papers.

Which looked almost fuzzy.

So I pushed them away, "I sign it when I can read properly," I told her, pressing my palms into the cold counter to steady myself.

"Oh so you want to stay the night again?" Sevan asked me, her tone holding a level of sarcasm, "I can take you back to your favorite room then—"

"Your voice burns my ears," I mumbled, my accent thicker and my voice echoey in my ears.

"Your entire presence burns my eyes," Sevan said, roughly grabbing my hand from the counter and forcing a heavy pen in it, "Sign the fucking accord and stop wasting my time."

I wrapped my fingers around the cold pen, gripping it tightly in my hand which visibly trembled against my fucking wishes.

Suddenly, I couldn't give one fuck about what was written in this accord.

That would bite me in the ass later.

But I would rather that than land on my ass again, passing out in front of Sevan for a second time.

So I messily scribbled my name on the line, letting out a wavered sigh as I harshly pushed myself away from the counter.

"I hope you die a very painful death," I breathed out, stumbling over my feet as I scrunched my eyes closed for a moment.

"I would wish you the same but I could always make that happen for you," Sevan said, her dark eyes following me as I leaned against the couch for a moment.

Until I slumped down onto it against my own wishes.

"I pass out—you don't touch me," I clarified, my words sticking together like glue and my voice nothing but a murmur.

"Touch you?" she echoed, unscrewing the bottle of cognac. "Watching you die might be the most entertainment I've had all day."

I blinked rapidly, "Suka," I mumbled the word bitch in Russian, gripping the couch under me as my vision started trailing off.

"I know Russian, Zinovia," Sevan said, and I could hear the echo of a glass softly clatter on the marble counter.

"Good," I gritted, drawing in a deeper wavered breath, "You know what you are in two languages."

I dug my manicured nails into the leather couch underneath me, feeling my body jerk two times in a row.

Sevan chuckled softly, a low sound that sent a chill through the air, "I know exactly what I am," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, "You haven't even seen the fucking half of it," she added, her voice full of nothing but amusement.

I wanted to rip the amused tone from her vocal cords and dismember her entire body.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't do anything.

Not when my vision finally faded away and I was met with the chilling darkness yet again.