Now, I felt nothing.
I wasn’t sure I could remember what terror felt like. I knew I had experienced it, but the memory just wasn’t there. Blinking, watching the room undulate, my stomach growled as I played with a stone on the floor. My shackles—shackles were definitely what they were—clinked with the movement, sounding loud even over the constant stream of Russian music that filtered like Hell’s music through the door, echoing in my cave-like prison.
I knew they did that on purpose. After the first few days, when I had fought the man who lifted me out of the sewer hole and brought in my meals and changed the two buckets in the room—one with water, one for shitting and pissing in—they had started putting music outside the door to slowly drive me crazy. They weren’t too far off.
I squinted, singing along to the song I had heard a million times now, shivering and watching the walls move. I had become an animal of sorts in those first few days. Survival and pissed off fury, my only emotion. When I had emotions. That was why they had bolted the shackles to the walls and put me in them. The chains reached a few feet, but not far enough for me to do anyone harm that came in to change the buckets or set down my two meals a day.
I eventually told them two meals were not enough. Not nearly enough, considering the portions they put on the tiny plate, but they hadn’t listened. Or they didn’t care. The woman told me as she shaved my head again that it was enough to keep the babies strong—and not me. She had been right.
I was weak. So damn weak.
I rested a hand on my protruding stomach. No, I had no clue how long I had been here. Enough time had passed for me to be showing as a pregnant woman. I patted my stomach in a soothing gesture and continued singing and squeezing the rock in my hand and releasing it. Squeezing and releasing it.
I knew that Daniil was alive. Thoughts of him were so real in my mind that sometimes I thought he was standing right in front of me in the darkness. Or holding me as I fell into a wary sleep. Or as I hummed the song he had played to me the last night he and I had made love in the music room.
I thought a lot about him. He was the only thing that kept me sane. At least, as sane as I could be right now. I had never wondered what it would be like to become a prisoner in solitary confinement, but I somehow bet that even those people had more interaction with humans. Life as I knew it had changed. My world was the bomb shelter. That was all and my visions of Daniil in the darkness.
And I sang…
My stomach grew larger, and while my babies grew, I talked to Daniil. He sat across from me in the darkness, and he spoke to me about the trees and the sunshine and the wind. He told me about how the sunshine would glisten off the leaves of the trees around his home, and the wind would gently blow the limbs around. I asked him questions about what they looked like in Moscow, but he never answered those questions. He always spoke about the trees in New York.
Until one day, his tone changed.
He wouldn’t talk about anything beautiful anymore.
It…I wasn’t sure, but I felt funny about it.
I couldn’t pinpoint how I felt since I hadn’t felt anything in so long in my new isolated world, but he kept repeating one sentence, again and again, his tone getting harsher every time I tried to speak with him about something else.
“Stay alive,” he would repeatedly say. “Don’t let them have our babies.”
I knew nothing else, so I did.
One day, he disappeared. I was alone again.
I felt my first emotion in what felt like forever. Anger. I was furious he had left me. I wanted him back. I wanted him desperately. And so, I did the only thing I could do. I began working on my shackles. I was going to get Daniil back. And no one was going to take our children from us.
My fingers bled. My arm that I knew at one time had broken, worked oddly, but it none of it hurt. I felt no pain. I felt nothing as I pulled and dug at the stone walls where my shackles were held. I had plenty of time to work since no one ever came down here anymore, except for the one man who gave me my food and changed my buckets.
So, I sang and worked. Sang and worked, filled with my fury. It felt good.
I was hot. I didn’t think that was a good thing since I had been cold for so long, but I kept working, the stone around the bolts in the walls finally beginning to crumble after the constant wiggling and digging I put them through. My fingernails were gone. Lost in the stone surrounding the walls, and every time the man entered, I made sure to sit against the walls so he wouldn’t see the blood streaks. If I could see them in the darkness, then he would most definitely be able to see them when he let in the blinding light when the door opened.
Sweating, I yanked, trying to stay silent as I grunted and pulled, putting all of my weight into it, yanking hard to the right. I wiggled the chains, feeling the bite into my ankles and wrists, but it didn’t hurt. The pounding in my head didn’t even hurt. But it was odd the heat I felt.
Ignoring the odd sensation, I ducked below the short ceiling and moved, pulling the chains tight to the left this time, hearing a satisfying tumble of rocks, only to land hard on my left side when the shackle on my wrists released from the wall.
I paused, listening hard over my singing and the music outside. Hearing not a stir from outside the door, I began to work my ankles free now. I would still be cuffed, but not to the wall. I would be able to run. If I could just get my feet free from the wall.
Later, I waited. Just beside the door. Sweat poured down my face, my temples throbbed, and my pregnant belly got in the way some, but I waited, hunched and ready. It was dark out. It had to be since there was no light under the door. My food would be coming soon since my stomach growled, reminding me that it was almost that time.
I whispered quietly the last song Daniil had played me, quietly telling my missing Daniil I would be with him soon. I just had one obstacle to go through. No one else was here. I was positive of that. I had listened once I got my feet loose. I had only ever heard one pair of footsteps all day as I had lain by the door listening. That and maybe some TV.
So, I waited.
When I began to waver on my feet, I gripped the long bolts I had in my hands tighter.
Daniil had told me to stay alive. I was going to—unlike my jailer.
Not so long ago, I would have cared about what I was planning. I didn’t now. I didn’t give a shit about anything but getting out of here safely.
I heard it. Him. My jailer.
He was coming down what sounded like a set of stairs now that I listened more closely.
I shut up. Singing would give me away. I couldn’t have that.
I wiped the sweat from my face and ducked even lower. I was going to have to sweep up at him to get the angle I needed since the ceiling was so low. I could envision exactly what I needed to do, almost seeing the scene play out in front of me as clearly as I had seen Daniil. I adjusted and took a tiny step back. And then, froze.
A key rattled in the door.
I tensed, seeing the light also come on under the door. I would be blinded, as I had been every time, so I squinted and looked off toward the side, not staring directly at the door.
It opened, and in he walked, carrying my new items like normal.
His damn mask was in place—again, like normal. But through my squinted vision, I could see a small sliver of skin.
That was where I struck.
He was surprised. He bellowed, his shout loud over the music.
I shoved hard with the first bolt.
Directly into his throat.
He swung at me, even as he choked, hitting my arm, and not in his favor, shoving my shoulder fierce enough that it made my blow even harder. The momentum revibrated down my arm, the force adding to my strength before I flew against the wall. He punched out again, hitting me square in the face as he made an odd gurgling noise. I felt my eyebrow split open as my head hit the wall.
The lights went out as I fell to the floor.
My eyelids fluttered open. I
was lying in something sticky. And only remotely warm, although cool against my burning skin and insides. Lifting my head, I glanced around.
And saw freedom by means of my jailer.
Dead. Next to me on the ground.
The door was still open where he lay half in and out of the room, his dead corpse so helpfully keeping the door open for me. I yanked the bolt out his throat and stood carefully, trying not to slip in the blood I had been lying in.
I couldn’t see out of one eye, which meant it was swollen, but really, I couldn’t feel anything past the chills and heat then cold that flashed over me. And I moved, creeping out of the room. The light hurt my eyes, so I lifted my chained wrist and shielded my eyes with my hands and gingerly made my way up the wooden stairs, my feet tracking sticky, bloody footprints all the way up them, my shackles in no way quiet as I took each step.
There was no door at the top of the stairs, and I peeked out around. I had known earlier there was no one else here, but I had no clue how long I had been knocked out. I waited. Listening and leaning heavily against the bare wall.
Nothing. There was no sound.
I sucked in a breath and made myself move. I was in a kitchen of sorts. It was old, like 1950s era with mustard yellow appliances and cracking beige countertops. But I didn’t care about any of that. All I cared about was the door I saw behind a small wooden table with two chairs around it. The window on it showed the outside—trees, like Daniil had talked about—even if it were dark out there with only the moon to light the way.
I lunged and grabbed the gun that was sitting on the table. I wasn’t positive I even knew how to use it, but I was covered in blood, and if I was going into the woods at night, I needed some type of protection against the creatures that called the land theirs. An alarm sounded as soon as I opened the door, and I raced out of the house, my chains clinking the whole way.
Bitter, cold air hit my heated skin, and I welcomed it, staring down a gravel road. With no fucking car. I couldn’t be so lucky. I knew they had only brought one here, but I had hoped there would be one around. And with that damn alarm going off, anyone who was linked to it would know I was escaping since I didn’t know the code to turn it off.
So, I did the only thing I could do. I bent down, picked up the chain between my feet…and I raced into the woods. Naked. Hot. Bleeding. With only a single gun to protect me—even though I had no clue how to use it.
I ran.
And I ran.
My feet bled under the onslaught of the twigs, needles, and rocks I raced over.
And still, I ran.
In the distance, I could hear cars driving by to my left on a gravel road. I didn’t trust cars. I didn’t trust a soul. I ran until I needed to stop. But only for a few minutes, holding under my belly, feeling tiny kicks and pushes. My babies telling me they didn’t like this jostling.
The trees swayed with the heat my body was feeling. I felt another emotion…fear. As I sucked in a breath, glancing around at all the open space, I felt terror. There was so much of it. So much. Not like what I was used to. Nothing at all like that. So I ran more only stopping when needed to catch my breath so I could run farther and longer.
I raced through the forest, scaring all the wildlife away. I saw deer, but luckily, that was all I saw. There were no wolves or coyotes chasing me. Nor people. Although, more than likely, the people driving down the road were the bad guys. But I didn’t stop.
Not until the sun was starting to rise…just as I came along a blacktop road. Something that not just cars would drive by on. I stayed down in the tree line but kept walking, kept putting distance between my captors and me. A few cars had passed by.
And still, I kept walking. Waiting.
And then, I saw it. My salvation.
A semi-truck. The bad guys wouldn’t be driving that. I hesitated, trying to decide if I should bring the gun out with me. I had nowhere to hide it. And if this person didn’t stop because they saw me with a gun, I could have just fucked up my one shot at escape. So I tossed it and raced out of the woods, holding my chains and shouting as loud as possible, trying to get to the road before the semi passed by.
I made it. And I stood there, waving my chained hands and screaming as the semi drove past.
“No!” I shouted, turning, feeling the rush of air as it sped past. “No! Stop!”
By the grace of God, I saw its brake lights flash, and its breaks squealed a second later. I raced around the back of it, running to the driver’s side, leaving new bloody footprints in my wake. The driver jumped out of the cab. I stopped. And drew in air as he stared at me with wide eyes.
He wasn’t a predator. I knew what predators moved like now. No. This was a normal human being seeing a naked, pregnant woman with blood all over her. A busted face with only one good working eye and shackled.
“Please. Help me,” I cried, walking toward him.
“Good Lord above, ma’am,” he stated, taking his ball cap off and running his hands through his hair. He shoved his cap back on his head crookedly. “How badly are you hurt? Do I need to call for an ambulance?”
“Hospital. Just take me to the hospital.” One far, far away from here.
He nodded, surveying me again before leaning into his truck and pulling out a blanket. He began walking toward me, and I couldn’t help my flinch as his long legs ate up the area between us too quickly. He stopped, and said gently, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He started moving again, and I made myself stay still. “Here. Let’s get you covered up.”
He put the blanket around me gently but stopped when his hand brushed my shoulder. He cleared his throat, and said, “I’m going to feel your forehead. Don’t be scared.” He rested the blanket over my shoulder, placing his hand on my forehead and sucked in a breath. “You’re burning up.” He pulled the blanket closed, and stated, “I’m going to lift you into the cab. You won’t be able to get in with those chains on you.”
I stilled but slowly nodded. Yes, I needed a fucking hospital. A fever couldn’t be healthy for the babies. “Okay. Please, just get me to a hospital. But one far away from here. Don’t go to the closest one.”
His lips thinned, and suddenly, his eyebrows snapped together under his cap. His head snapped around in all directions before resting on my face. “Let’s get you out of here.” He picked me up too quickly, but I kept still and quiet as he put me in his cab.
Once we were moving, he kept glancing at me. I could feel it. And it unnerved me, and I fumbled for the window controls, trying to let some fresh air in. The woods had terrified me, but being couped back up frightened me even more. Once the window was down, I rested my hot head against the doorframe and let the wind cool my sweating flesh.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. You can rest,” the man stated.
And, yes, I knew he wouldn’t, even though he kept staring at me. I knew evil now. And he wasn’t evil. But he wasn’t to be completely trusted. So I kept silent and closed my eyes, making sure not to fall asleep even though I was dead tired.
The truck driver carried me into the third hospital we passed. I had no clue what town we were in, but he had done exactly as I had asked. Almost immediately, I was taken in for surgery…but only after I had made them do a sonogram. And I saw all my babies were fine.
Then, they told me they were putting me under a local anesthetic, and I had no memory of them taking off my chains or re-breaking my arm and fixing it correctly since it was crooked.
I woke to beeping sounds. There was a doctor standing by the bed, the same one who had talked to me before surgery, and he was watching my face. The same as the truck driver, who had apparently stayed. No one else was in the room, and the door was shut.
I stared at it, and my lungs seized. “Please open the door!” It came out a croak, and my throat was sore as hell, but I couldn’t stay in this room with it shut. I tried to move my hands and get out of bed, but my left arm was in a cast, and my hands and wrists had been wrapped in gauze. But I didn�
��t feel as hot as I had before.
The doctor leaned forward, pushing me back on the bed, stating, “First, I need to ask you a question before I open that door. Our conversation needs to be private.”
I sucked in oxygen, and stared at the closed door, feeling tears spring to my eyes. “Fine.”
Hurry the fuck up!
The doctor leaned away from the bed and nodded his dark head toward the truck driver. “This gentleman says that he found you on the side of the road.” He cleared his throat, and said quietly, “Your fingers are too cut up to do a finger print on, but this gentleman believes you’re Elizabeth Forter, the woman who disappeared two months ago. Are you that woman?”
I tried to keep from freaking out, but I felt my eyes flick to the driver. “How would he know who Elizabeth Forter is?” God, he wasn’t a bad guy. I knew I wasn’t wrong about that. At least, I didn’t think so.
The doctor said softly, “Elizabeth Forter’s picture has been flashed all over the news for the past two months while everyone has been searching for her.” He glanced at my head, his eyebrows rising. “Your hair is the same color. Although, it’s only an inch long so I can’t tell if it’s curled. And the one eye that’s not swollen shut is green like hers.” He stared into that one said eye. “Are you Elizabeth Forter?”
My lips pinched even further, and I glanced around for something to protect myself with, squinting with my good eye. “What would you do if I was?”
He sucked in a breath, watching me. “I would call the authorities and let them know you’ve been found.”
I shook my head. “Wrong answer. You would give me a fucking phone,” since I couldn’t see one around here anywhere, “and let me call Lion Security.” I didn’t trust the damn authorities right now. And sadly, I didn’t know Daniil’s phone number off the top of my head, and I was positive it wasn’t listed anywhere unlike Lion Securities. I had programmed it into my phone before he had broken it, and after that, I had used the bodyguards’ phones. My heart clenched for a moment, but I pushed it back, along with the memories of Trofim. Right now, I needed to focus.
Obsidian Music (Lion Security Book 3) Page 2