Page 37 of Ruinous Need
VIKTOR
THE SUN IS as high in the sky as it will get today but the temperature doesn’t rise. Not one degree.
And this is the middle of the day, the peak of our daylight hours. We’re so far north I think we must be in Alaska.
Hard to tell, when all you can see is snow. In the distance, I think there are mountains, but that could just be an illusion reflected by the icy landscape.
At first, I joked with the guards, asking if this was some kind of boot camp Semyon wanted to send me to. They don’t take kindly to humor, I learned. They left me nursing a split lip on top of the head injuries that they barely bandaged up.
I’m rapidly losing my mind with day after day of the same routine.
I would think it was torture, only there’s no purpose to it.
They never ask any questions. There’s nothing these guards want from me, other than to make me suffer.
They escort me out onto the ice, to what might be some kind of farm buried deep below the ice sheet, and assign me the pointless and near-impossible task of digging ditches.
It’s not just that the ice is thick. At least that shatters and can be cleared away with enough force. The ground below it is the problem. It’s frozen solid, only it doesn’t shatter the way ice does. I can dig for hours, crashing the spade into the ground again and again, and barely make a dent.
When they bring me back to the same spot, a day later, the ice-sheet has reformed, and I have to begin again from the start.
Pointless. Back-breaking. Infuriating.
My hands have formed thick calluses. My skin cracks in the cold. At night I sleep in something akin to a prison cell. The room is a concrete box with no windows, a thick metal door, a toilet and a faucet that dispenses ice-cold water.
From what I can see, the guards’ lounge is not much better, except it has one worn-down sofa, a table and a kitchen.
The pipes groan and hiss at night while I lie awake in the dark thinking about Lisette.
They must have found her by now. I grip the metal of the bunk as hard as I can while I consider my options.
I think while I’m here, there’s only one real option: survive.
Guilt shoots through me when I contemplate where Lisette must be.
After all of my words about how I would protect her, how I wouldn’t leave her to the brutal machinery of the Bratva the way I did my mother, I couldn’t save her. History repeats itself.
At least they won’t kill her. She may marry Semyon, but she’ll stay alive. I can console myself with that, at least.
I have had a lot of time to think this morning, I realize when the sun rises — the start of the three hours of daylight we get up here. The guards haven’t come for me and forced me to dig.
It’s the first break in the relentless labor routine.
A motoring sound approaches from somewhere in the distance. Sounds echo a long way across the flat icy landscape. I have no way to see outside, so I keep my ear pressed against the metal of the door until I hear movement outside my cell.
They’re close enough that I can make out voices. Semyon among them.
Just who I want to see.
I close my eyes and lean back against the cold concrete wall.
By my count, it’s been two weeks since I was captured. The gash on my head is starting to heal.
It’s been more than enough time for Semyon to have decided whether he’s going to keep me alive or not. I don’t see why he would. I certainly wouldn’t if I was in his position.
The guards drag me to a meeting room with my hands and feet chained together like a prisoner.
Semyon sits down across from me, looking the same as ever. Blonde hair fixed in place with product, his light blue eyes revealing nothing.
We stare at each other and the air crackles.
“Lisette told me what you did to her,” he says. Hearing her name on his lips makes me want to hurl something.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This is a bluff. Surely she’s not talking to him. I keep my gaze steady and try not to react.
“She was traumatized, Viktor. She wouldn’t stop shaking. I told you not to touch her… that was your one instruction.”
I blow a breath out my nose. “Like she would talk to you. She hates you. She’s terrified of you.”
“She doesn’t have to like me.” He’s smug now that he’s provoked me. “We have decades of marriage left to resolve that.”
Tension coils through my muscles. If it weren’t for this damn chain, I would be at his throat right now.
“I thought you might like to see the proof,” he says.
Semyon pulls up a photo of Lisette. She’s wearing a white dress in what looks like a bridal shop, beaming at the camera with her arms thrown above her head.
Like she’s overjoyed to be engaged to him.
I try not to react, but my whole body seizes up. I can’t stop staring at the photo.
Rarely have I seen Lisette look that happy. Only when she thought she would not have to marry him and that weight lifted off her chest. Was it all an act? It felt so real.
I zoom in, looking for defects, signs that it was edited or forged, somehow. But it seems real. I even recognize the pattern of freckles across her pale skin.
Semyon takes his phone back with a flourish. “You see? I think I can make her very happy after all.”
The smug look on his face is what does it.
My hands and legs might be chained together, but I have the element of surprise.
I use the chair to push off and launch myself at Semyon‘s face swinging my hands and legs simultaneously as hard as I can. My fist catches his nose and I’m satisfied to see the stream of blood that spews forth, even as I hurtle towards the ground with no way to catch my landing. I land awkwardly on one ankle.
Semyon’s blue eyes burn with rage. He wipes his sleeve across his face, the white fabric staining crimson, and shoves me to the ground, where he lands a kick to my guts. I curl in on myself, the breath gone from my lungs.
Semyon spits a mouthful of blood down on me.
“You always did have a nasty temper, Viktor. I thought you could be controlled, a useful weapon to me, but I suppose not. I think I’ll make sure the guards torture you for another few weeks before your death. And don’t worry.” He laughs, a harsh barking sound. “It’ll be so much worse than before.”