“It’s not poison,” she added, stealing a glance at the meal on the table. “Trust me, if he wanted to kill you, there are other ways he can do that.”
“Well, that’s refreshing, thank you,” I said, my voice quiet and dripping with sarcasm.
A very faint grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Do whatever he says, and you just might make it out in one piece.” She walked away, leaving me alone in the room.
I’d have felt a lot better if she hadn’t used the wordmight.Now, her advice wouldn’t stop playing at the back of my mind, reminding me of the possibility of never leaving this place.
The food smelled good, though. And I was certain it would taste even better. Especially because I was so hungry.
I strolled over to the table for a better look at the meal—it was tantalizing. In the tray was a neatly arranged spread of scrambled eggs, some crispy bacon, and thick slices of buttered toast.
That wasn’t all.
Beside it was a small jar of amber honey, some berries, and a glass of orange juice. My stomach growled in anticipation as I hovered over the table, wondering why I was being fed like a princess and not a prisoner.
I hesitated for a moment before picking out a strawberry from the plate. After I lifted it to my lips and took a bite, my eyes flicked to a corner of the ceiling. That’s when I saw it. The camera.
Of course.
My brows drew together as I chewed delicately, savoring the flavor on my tongue.
When I was done eating the delicious strawberry, I dusted my hands and walked over to the bathroom. It wasn’t until after I finished bathing and had changed into some fresh clothes that I sat down and ate the food.
***
Later that day, I decided to explore the building before I died of boredom. The fact that the door was left unlocked meant that I wasn’t confined to the four walls of this room.
So, I headed out.
The hallways were lit with the warm glows of expensive chandeliers, the walls adorned with abstract paintings. While I moved through the mansion that seemed to stretch without end, the polished floors reflected my form like a ghost beneath my feet.
The place was silent. Too silent.
It felt more like a museum than a house; it was nowhere close to being a home. Not by a long shot. Everything here seemed expensive: the sculptures, the paintings, the antique vases that looked centuries old.
The entire mansion was strangely untouched by life. Breathtaking, but lacking the very essence of life. In my opinion, this place was just a gilded cage, a decorated cemetery.
Everything was curated to perfection, and nothing was out of place. No scattered shoes. No forgotten cups. No sound of laughter. Nothing at all to show that real people actually lived here.
The more I explored this massive building, the more I was convinced that if I wasn’t careful, I might end up getting lost.
I stopped by a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the estate grounds. From this perspective, I could see the extensive land. The winding driveway, the beautiful gardens, the trimmed hedges, and the smooth stone pathways weaving through them.
It turned out that the mansion was built on a rolling hill, resembling a private villa carved out of wealth and power. This place featured two large swimming pools and a damn helipad that sat like a coin pressed into the ground.
Muffled voices caught my attention, seeming to come from the west wing. Once again, my curiosity was piqued, and I moved toward the noise. I walked down the hall, following the sound until I reached another window.
Outside, I saw five armed men under the canopy of an oak tree. Two wore blank expressions on their mean faces, while the other three laughed quietly.
Confused, I squinted and looked more closely. That’s when I noticed another guard sitting under the tree. And although the other five were around him, I was able to catch a glimpse of his face. It was a mask of pain.
Then came the low growl, laced with sheer agony. The sound was so intense that it made my blood run cold. When I noticed the injury on his arm and the crimson dripping onto the ground, I understood what was happening.
He was wounded.
Why the hell were his colleagues laughing at his pain? They should be helping him, not mocking him. One of them said something in Russian and then chuckled while fist-bumping the guy next to him.
These people were savages!