His scream echoed off the walls, his body shaking with his hands hovering over the pencil buried in his eye.
“Throw him in the dungeon,” I said. “I’ll deal with him later.”
Sergei nodded.
“Round up the men.” I looked him dead in the eyes. “We’re going to war.”
Chapter 27 – Ellie
I sat strapped to a wooden chair in a dimly lit room, my hands and feet bound with ropes that tore into my flesh. My heart was pounding in my chest, my pulse quickening by the second. But I refused to let them see me break.
Three armed men were in the room with me: two at the door, one behind me. None of them had said a word. They all just stood there, unmoving, fingers inches from the triggers of their guns.
Struggling against the ropes that bound me was a waste of time. The knots were tied so tightly that the more I struggled, the more they hurt. So I sat in the stillness, waiting for whatever fate awaited me.
Even though I had no idea where I was or how much time had passed, I knew deep down that Karik was already looking for me. He was going to find me; I just needed to get him more time.
My heart shattered as I recalled Agata’s motionless body in my arms. I still couldn’t believe she was dead. And it was all my fault. I never should’ve asked her to come with me.
I should’ve listened to her and asked the driver to turn the car around. She told me she had a bad feeling about being out in the city, but I didn’t take her seriously. Now she was gone. And it was my fault.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to shed them. Not here. Not now. These bastards didn’t deserve to see me break.
Karik, where are you? Please hurry.
In the deadly silence, I overheard a voice in the hallway say something like, “Tell Niklaus Varro to call me later.”
I couldn’t catch the words that followed next. But one thing was certain: Whoever my kidnappers were, they were in league with Niklaus Varro, the same man Karik had been looking for for over a decade.
The front door opened with a loud creak, revealing a rather short man at the entrance. He was dressed in a dark suit, with a cigar clutched between his lips.
His polished shoes scuffed against the concrete floor as he walked toward me. One hand was buried in his pocket, his cold, hollow eyes boring into mine.
His dark hair was slicked back, the Rolex on his wrist glinting in the soft light. The aura he exuded, the confidence, and that scary gaze of his told me he was the boss. Most likely the previous speaker from the hallway outside.
He halted in front of me and released a puff of smoke in my face. The smell of tobacco, mixed with that whiskey, drifted into my nostrils.
I didn’t flinch—didn’t look away either.
“Who are you?” I asked him. “What do you want with me?”
His lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “I’ll be asking the questions, feisty pants,” he said in accented English. “First off, where did you learn to fight like that?” He leaned in. “I saw the footage. You knocked out one of my best men with a single swing.” A quiet laugh fell from his mouth.
“It’s not my fault your ‘best men’ fight like women,” I replied without taking my eyes off him.
A pause.
That smirk was retained on his lips. “Now I see why Karik chose you as his wife.” He dragged on his cigarette. “You’re a fighter.”
I didn’t respond.
“Look, you’re pretty, and it’s going to be quite unfortunate if anything were to happen to your face…or any other part of your body.”
The slight pause came when his gaze dropped to my chest region as if he could see through the fabric of my dress.
Pervert.
“But you’re in luck. I don’t hit women,” he continued. “So let’s get straight to why you’re here. I ask the questions. You provide me with the answers I need.”