บท 8: Her Knight
(IVANNA)
My throat is sore, aching raw from the strain of screaming. But that doesn't make any difference. No one comes to open the door. I'm alone, shrouded in darkness in a room that reeks of desperation and death. Locked in. No one is coming to save me. The earlier I accept that fact, the better it will be for me.
My throat and lungs burn. Being caged in an underground dungeon where nobody would probably find me was my worst nightmare. I wonder if there's even fresh air to breathe down here. Chest burning, I fall to my knees. How long will that fucker Sergio leave me to rot down here? Hours? Days?
I can feel hysteria edging out the plain old panic in my mind. The therapist that Pa took me to for my claustrophobia said to breathe and count to ten, and that remaining calm was the only key.
I close my eyes and begin to count.
I try to focus on my breathing pattern, the numbers, and anything apart from this place. But the musty air reminds me that I'm locked in an underground dungeon. I'm reminded of who locked me here in the first place. I wonder how many men have been locked in here. How many have died here? Has Sergio killed any men in this cell?
Of course, he has. He is the leader of the Dvina Vory Bratva. One of the top mafia clans in Russia.
Makes me wonder whether there are ghosts here. Are there ghosts in this cell?
Oh, fuck. I pull my knees up close to my chest and hug them tightly. My nails dig on either side of my arms so tightly that it literally hurts. It stings, but I welcome the pain because that way, I know that I'm still alive. He will eventually come and get me out, and I'll be forced to marry his son after all.
A bile rises in my throat. It is then that it dawns on me that maybe by the time they decide to let me out of this hellhole, my mind will have already snapped. Maybe they think that they will have tamed me, that I will bow to every last one of their requests. But I'll be stark raving mad then. I let out a hollow laugh. Maybe then, they will declare me unfit to marry their son and send me back to Krasnoyarsk.
Or maybe, he could just change his mind and kill me.
I rock back and forth, trying to not focus on the negative. How has this become my life? Just two days ago, I had turned eighteen, with a boyfriend that I liked and hoping to join a prestigious college. I planned to study botany. Something to do with plants where I could spend my time outdoors. Yet here I am, locked in a dungeon in Tuba, being forced to marry some strange mafia prince that I don't know.
I hear tiny claws skit on the stone and I freeze. Is that a mouse? That didn't sound like a mouse though. It sounded big, more like a rat. I curl up as tightly as I can, holding my knees tighter to my chest. I hope that Sergio walks back in here to my rat-eaten corpse. That would serve him right.
My brain must have logged out at this point because I don't remember a thing until strong arms lift me off the ground. A warm muscled chest meets my face and I don't whine. I don't fight. I don't have the strength in me to fight. I cling on to my rescuer, desperate for help and escape.
"I'm so sorry, my love."
But that is a new voice. I don't recognise it. Someone must have come to save me, and it isn't Sergio Sakharov.
He begins to walk up the stairs. "My father can be a real asshole sometimes." He speaks quietly as if he is mumbling to himself.
"You are Karlen," I hiccup into the skin of his throat, tears still seeping from the corners of my eyes.
"I am. And you must be Ivanna Sidorova."
I nod and burrow closer to him, desperate to drive away the cold lingering in my bones. "Th…thanks for coming to my rescue."
"He shouldn't have put you down there in the first place. I wouldn't wish that kind of treatment on my worst enemy."
"Your father―"
"He has a temper, and you stabbed his hand with a pen. Now, I'm not going to excuse that behaviour."
We get to the top of the stairs and there is a wide expanse of stars stretched overhead in the sky. The tightness in my chest loosens a little and I draw in my first real deep breath since we landed. I smell dirt and grass. At least now I know that I'm outside.
"You're fine, Ivanna. You aren't locked up anymore."
"Y…you can now put me down." I stutter through my clattering teeth. "I think I can walk."
"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. You were practically shaking when I found you a few minutes ago."
"I was?" I ask, resting my head on his palm. "Small spaces make me claustrophobic. I don't do well in them."
He curses in Russian. "I'm sorry, Ivanna. I would like to think he wouldn't have locked you in there had he known―"
That is all the implication that I need to know that Sergio Sakharov's cruelty is all known. He is no stranger. He would torment someone and gladly use their weakness against them, provided he gets what he wants.
We enter the castle before I can comment. A small room leads into the kitchen, which is surprisingly modern for a place with a place that has a medieval dungeon beneath it.
"I'll tell Lucia to bring you hot tea," Karlen says as he keeps walking. "That is my aunt. She does most of the cooking duties around here. She lives with us."
I calm down and begin to scan around, curious about this upgraded prison. The contrast to the cell that I've just come from is startling. All I can see is light and airy with gleaming wood accents and light plaster walls. The massive windows are draped in tasteful velvety curtains and big black tiles cover the floor. It is even nicer than our home back in Krasnoyarsk.
I don't see any security cameras around. That is information that I will store away for future use.
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