If I felt the same, how could I fault him for what he’d done? I couldn’t, because we were two halves of the same whole.
I missed him, and with the horrific realization that I may not ever see him again,noneof what I’d suffered felt like it mattered. The only thing that I cared about when it all came down to it, was getting back to the man I loved with every part of my soul.
“I don’t blame you for being angry,” Dima said, and I jolted as my eyes refocused on his face. “Thiswas not the reunion I’d planned.” He shuffled toward my ankles, unwinding the barbed wire slowly.
Each prong slid from my skin, sliding through the swollen tissue and bringing a fresh well of blood and pain until my ankles were entirely free and I sagged with relief. They throbbed with pain, but at least I could move them if I chose to brave the agony.
“You mean you didn’t want me hurt? I thought you liked your bitches scarred?” I asked. He touched his hand to the raw skin at my ankle, making my face contort with the burning pain that shot through my flesh. Those fingers trailed up over my calf, caressing the skin until I shivered against the goosebumps that raised in response to his touch. He didn’t stop until he touched the scar that wrapped around my thigh.
“I like my women scarred, becauseyou’rescarred, ??? ?????. That doesn’t mean I want you to be marked against my wishes.” He removed his hand, dragging my dress down to cover me more fully before he moved around to my back. His hands brushed against my skin as he unwound the wire from my wrists, and it wasn’t until he had fully extracted the barbs that he brushed his hand over Rafael’s brand on my skin. “This I do not like.”
“He’s my husband,” I said, shaking my head. The rings that were missing from my finger had been a nuisance—easily removed by the sister who’d betrayed me—but the names carved and branded into my skin would serve as a reminder to Dima about where I really belonged.
“You cannot be married to someone who no longer breathes. I’ll take care of him soon enough,” Dima growled, moving in front of me. He stood, bending down and putting an arm beneath my knees and back. He lifted me into his arms, ignoring my weak protests that I could walk on my own.
We left the plane, walking into an uncertain future where my dread rose higher and higher with every passing second. As much as I hated his touch around me and the feeling of my face pressed against his shoulder, I knew I would need my strength to fight when it mattered.
I forced my body to go still, observing my surroundings as he made his way down the steps from the plane. The landing strip was surrounded by fields of marigolds, the yellow flowers seeming so bright and sunny compared to my pulsing horror over what would come next. In the distance up ahead, a building that reminded me of St. Basil’s Cathedral sat in the center of a garden of lush, colorful flowers that reflected off the colorful architecture.
It was the exact opposite of everything I’d expected to find in the home of a human trafficker in Russia, even knowing it was summer. I’d expected the property to feel cold, even if it lacked the snow that came in the harsh winters.
Dima carried me toward the structure, never pausing to catch his breath as he closed the distance. When he finally reached the palatial estate, he moved to the steps around the side that led down rather than the ones that went up to the grand front entrance. “Am I to be hidden away like your dirty little secret?” I asked, perhaps foolishly trying to poke at him and irritate him in my anger. To be kidnapped and treated like dirt, hidden within the confines of the earth,thatmeant I could have been anyone.
I wasn’t special to Dima, no matter what he had convinced himself.
“Just until you prove to me that you can behave on the upper floors. My wife is not pleased with your arrival, and I will not risk her wrath until I know you’ll do as you’re told, ??? ?????,” he explained. At the bottom of the stairs was a pair of heavy doors, and there was a brief moment where I wondered how Dima would pull them open with me in his arms.
They opened for him, two bulky guards parting ways and enabling him to slip inside without issue. He walked down the sterile white hallways, going past countless locked and guarded doors until he came to the very end.
Another guard input a code into the security panel next to the door, and it slid open to allow us through. The room was filled with all sorts of things I didn’t recognize. There were odd black benches, a free standing x-cross, and all forms of terrifying implements hung on the walls.
A bed waited in the corner of the room, looking plush and opulent with dark grey bedding. The thought of everything that had happened in that room, of all that I might live through, threatened to overwhelm me.
But it wasn’t the most prevalent furniture in the room. That title belonged solely to the person-sized water tank against the rear wall. The lid was open now, but it gave no sense of security. Even knowing how to swim, all Dima would need to do is pull the lid closed and I would drown with no escape.
Dima set me on the edge of the bed, and I forced myself to sit up. I couldn’t lie down with him in the room with me, but I also couldn’t take my eyes off the tank. “Ah, yes,” he said, following my gaze to where it lurked, tormenting me. “Your sister in particular hated my tank. I cannot say that I blame her considering what she survived in the river. I have to wonder, would you be the same? Are you afraid of water, ??? ??????” he asked.
“I know how to swim,” I said, admitting the truth. “Not that it would matter in that.”
“Don’t worry, my love. I have no intention of drowning you. That has always been intended for the girls who came before you. To see if they were strong enough to survive as you did. Only then were they worthy of having me as their master,” he said. He moved to the nightstand next to the bed, pulling out a first aid kit. He poured hydrogen peroxide over the wounds on my ankles, seeming uncaring about the stains and moisture on the bedding.
It gave me hope that he didn’t plan to sleep in the bed with me.
He cleaned and bandaged the wounds on my ankles and wrists quietly, seeming to fixate on the care and making sure they were treated to the best of his ability. I swallowed back nausea as he finished, looking around at all the foreign objects surrounding me. Uncertainty about what he would do first was almost as bad as the knowledge that I would be powerless to stop whatever came.
I could fight, but with nowhere to run, I would never win.
After he’d finished with the bandages on my wrists, his hands slid over my forearms and his thumb and fingers kneaded the skin as if he was looking for something. He hummed thoughtfully as he worked, and it wasn’t until his fingers brushed over the small bump on the back of my elbow that he froze in place.
I stared up at him, watching his eyes narrow on mine as he pressed down on that bump more firmly. “Did you know?” he asked, pulling my arm harshly. He forced me to lay on my stomach, the feeling of the sheets beneath me sending a throbbing shock of panic through me that only worsened when he reached into the stand next to the bed and pulled out a knife.
“Stop!” I screamed, thrashing in his grip and trying to escape. He straddled my lower back, holding me still and wrenching my other arm beneath my body.
“Did you know?” he repeated, his voice seething against what he must have thought was my first betrayal against him.
There would be many others.
“Yes, I fucking knew!” I spat, snarling when he pinned my arm to the mattress and the tip of the blade pressed into my skin. White hot pain spread through the back of my arm just above my elbow, shifting and writhing as he cut through me. I clenched my teeth, resisting the urge to yell against the pain.