I HAVEN’T LEFT the bathroom. Something heavy dropped into my stomach when Lucca called me out on my lie. Now all I feel is the cold of his words.
He called me beautiful. That thought pressed heat against the cold inside me. It was something I’ve been called my whole life. It just felt different from his lips. The girls called me beautiful. Every lady who took care of us called me beautiful. The words from his lips… felt different. It felt like a stamp of approval, which is ridiculous because so is he, just in a different kind of way. His beauty is all the sharp angles of his strong jawline. His deep silver gaze, which when zoned in on me, sends shivers racing across my flesh like an army of small ants.
His beauty is sharp, dark, and alluring.
Dangerous.
I step away from the mirror with the thought of how he looked at me. I’ve never desired to be touched. Some of the girls touched each other. I didn’t think it was wrong, but it never interested me. It was a part of me I refused to explore. I had lost my freedom for it. I’m still losing my freedom for something we were taught to put on a high pedestal. On one hand, I value it because it kept me out of being sent to the brothel like some girls were. On examination, we got our markings. A black tick on the wrist was the one every young girl dreaded.
Yet, I want to get rid of my purity so I have no value to them. It’s a silly thought that has me releasing air quickly from my lungs. I would have other uses. We all do.
My mind is damaged, and somewhere in the recesses sat my sanity and understanding of the depth of what I had been brought into.
A shiver snakes across my skin, and I can’t pull the dressing gown any tighter across my flesh to try to shield it off. I start to leave the bathroom but pause over the threshold at the sound of Lucca’s voice.
He’s right outside my open bedroom door. “Guard the door until I find out who she called.” His words are growled.
I’m moving but gather myself at the last second and pause before barging after him. The muscles around my heart squeeze painfully, and I clutch my neck like I can stop the fear and panic that are erasing all logical thoughts from my mind.
My legs start to move as fear clouds my judgment. The one called Michail glares at me. He’s ready to ask me something, but Lucca’s voice fills the hallway.
“Don’t speak to her.”
Dread curls its bony hands around my stomach, and all I can think of is what have I done?
If he traces the number to my home, would he kill my parents? My feet hit the floor hard. I’ve always been obedient. I’ve always had such control but never before was my parents’ existence threatened.
I’m in the hallway, and Michail reaches to stop me.
“Leave her.”
My head snaps up. Lucca stands outside the study. There’s a knowing glint in his gaze as he watches me. “You can either tell me who you rang, or I can find out myself.”
The hallway dims, and the world falls out from beneath me, but somehow I manage to stay standing. “The authorities.”
Lucca claps his hands. The noise bounces around the hall. The clap is too severe. His anger pours into his fingers, and I’m tempted to take a step back.
“Final time, Evie.”
Fear crawls up my spine and settles on my shoulders, weighing me down.
“A friend.”
Lucca reaches me. “What a beautiful liar you are.” His hand moves quicker than I could anticipate and envelops my face. “Now you have me really curious.” He pushes my head back, straining my neck. “I will make a phone call of my own. I shall ring Igor and tell him what a disappointment you have been.”
It’s like a syringe has been injected into my skin and has sucked all the blood and life out of me.
Lucca releases my face. I want to rub the aching skin, but I don’t dare move a muscle. He’s waiting for an answer. He’s waiting and not leaving to make that phone call to Igor. That says a lot and gives me a second to calm the sheer loss of control of my mind.
He’s calling my bluff.
I force my head high like I carry all the confidence in the world. “A friend. But their number is not in service. So the phone call was pointless.”
“Nothing, Evie, is pointless. Tell me about this friend.”
I’m thrown off guard at his question.
“A childhood friend, and it doesn’t matter. Like I said, the number was invalid.”
There’s a beat when Lucca does nothing. A slow tug of his lip has ice-cold fingers prodding my spine.
“I’ll tell you if it matters. Do you know what I do, beautiful Evie?” Lucca juts his chin at Michail, who steps back and away from us.
“Work for Igor.” I blink before glancing at Michail; why did he have to step back? Is Lucca going to punish me? I’m ready to remind him he can’t touch me, that Igor would be mad, but the dangerous glint in Lucca’s gaze keeps me silent.
“I’m The Handler.”
My core grows hollow, as though everything inside me has been removed, all my organs, and I’m filled right up with ice-cold air.
The Handler.
The Bratva’s assassin. Of course I knew who he was. I just didn’t know what he looked like or that his name was Lucca.
The Bratva’s personal assassin. My mind keeps circling around this fact. Why was I placed in his care? Why is he on this case?
“Do you know what The Handler does?” he asks.
I nod. Words have failed me. I could beg and plead, but I don’t think to a man like Lucca that would change the outcome of this situation.
“So you know what I’m capable of.” He takes a step closer until his cologne surrounds me. It’s a stark reminder that I haven’t been around men much, especially not ones like Lucca.
The Handler.
“Please.” It’s silly. It’s pointless. It’s naïve, but I have to try.
His grin of delight is frightening. “Who did you ring?”
“A friend.”
“Stay in your room.” His departing words have a chill sliding over me. Michail reappears, and I step back into the room, knowing for the first time I’ve really messed up. Before, it was my life on the line. I knew that from the moment I hid behind those crates in the loading bay. Now, it’s my parents.
I can’t stay here and just wait. I have to escape. I have to find a way home. I have to warn them.
The thought of returning to the shores of County Clare sends too many emotions crashing through me like a storm, orchestrating waves against the rocks.
I stay in my room, and the door remains open. I often hear Pavel’s footsteps; he’s the only one who seems to move around. Michail leaves my door when the third security guard takes his place. Time passes in a blur, and fear keeps squeezing me until I’m mentally exhausted.
It’s Pavel, with his soft brown eyes, who brings me food. I eat it all. I taste nothing and have to force each swallow down. I make sure nothing is left on the plate.
I’m surprised when clothes arrive. Pavel once again is the one who brings them in.
He doesn’t speak but lays all the bags on the bed and leaves. I check through the bags of colors and find the darkest outfit. Pants aren’t something I was given the privilege to wear. Dresses were all we wore. I don’t think as I take out fresh undergarments. I don’t think about who picked the black lacy material out but put them on before I slip each leg into tight black pants. I’ve done this before. Before they took my life from me.
I don’t allow myself to go back. I need to stay focused. I need to warn my family. Next, I find a dark shirt. It has small white dots, but it is the best out of the sea of blue and purple that was bought for me.
I take out a pair of shoes that have the smallest heel and leave them to the side. I’ll wait until I’m leaving before putting them on. I don’t find a jacket, so I place the bags on the floor, lining them up in front of the wardrobe. I go back to listening to footsteps and anything that can be useful.
No one speaks. There’s a static that buzzes in and out between the headsets I’ve seen the men wear, but that’s it.
More food is offered, and it’s Pavel who brings it to me.
He lays the tray down on a bedside table.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and give him a soft smile. “You’re very kind.”
He pauses and looks at me. He’s unsure, and I let my smile grow wider while half-closing my lids. I’m the image of innocence. It’s a look we learned to master.
“Do you want anything else?”
It works. “No, thank you. This is great.” I let my lids flutter closed, and Pavel leaves with hesitation in his steps. Once he’s gone, I start to eat. Michail looks at me, and I don’t think any amount of fluttering eyelids would make him bend, but Pavel has a softness I’ll take advantage of.
I push aside The Handler’s and Igor’s faces. I’m dancing with the devil, and I already understand what it feels like to get burned.
I roll my shoulder like I can feel the lick of flames. I hadn’t lied to Lucca when I told him I had been disobedient. It just wasn’t something that should have happened. Veronika was the woman’s name. She didn’t like that I refused to strip and bathe. Being ten and terrified out of my wits didn’t ease her harshness—that and the language barrier had me disorientated and terrified.
The food churns in my stomach, and I stand up and wash it down with the glass of milk. I can do this.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I speak to Michail’s back. He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s heard me.
I go into the bathroom and relieve myself before I start my search. I find nothing useful. I’m not a fighter, but I feel I need something for when I leave here tonight. There will be fewer guards, and all I can hope for is that Pavel was the one who either volunteered or was left behind.
I listen for his clunky shoes, but I don’t hear anything. I return to the bedroom and sit and wait for the night to come.