Page 116 of Velvet Chains
Why can’t I move my arms?
Then it dawns on me—my wrists are bound. I can feel the ache in them, my shoulders burning, my arms numb. How long have I been tied up like this? My mind races, trying to grab onto something, anything.
“Pizda, she stabbed me, that crazy bitch!” Another voice, this one tinged with pain and anger.
Now it hits me—Dimitry, the scary scar-face man, and me stabbing him hard on his thigh, the taste of iron, then the world tilting as his fist hit my face.
But what did Dimitry mean by “they have Eli”? Who are “they”?
I can’t believe this is happening.
Oh God, Victor!
My mind races, trying to make sense of it all.
“Make sure there’s no trouble,” one of the men says with a tone of command.
Just then, an engine roars to life beneath me, its deep, grumbling sound filling the space. I’m jolted slightly as the vehicle starts moving, realization dawning on me—I must be in a van or something.
“Blyad. Ty chto, dumayesh, ya novenkiy? You think I’m new at this?” the other guy shoots back with annoyance.
Are they the Vasillievs?
Where are they taking me?I strain to hear more, to pick up any clue that might help me understand what’s happening.
“Ha, not new, you are just an idiot,” the first guy chuckles. “The boss won’t be happy if her face gets too messed up.”
My mind’s a whirl of terror and confusion.
The boss. Who is the boss?
Fear grips me tighter as the van picks up speed, each turn and bump making me slide on the hard, unforgiving metal floor.
I’m scared, more scared than I’ve ever been. The unknown terrifies me.
What do they want from me? Are they going to use me as bait? My heart pounds in my chest, each beat screaming Victor’s name.
Oh God, if they hurt him because of me…
I can’t breathe, the fear choking me, wrapping its cold fingers around my throat.
I’m fighting back tears, but it’s no use; they’re welling up despite my best efforts. It feels like this might be the end for me.
A sob escapes me, muffled by the gag. I’ve never felt so powerless, so lost.
“Don’t cry, American girl,” one of the kidnappers sneers nastily. “Soon, you’ll be feeling a whole lot better.” His tone oozes something evil, something vile.
I scream into the gag, a muffled cry of terror and defiance.
“Wake up, American!” A rough voice snaps me back to reality.
Nightmare. It’s a fucking nightmare.
But this… This is not a nightmare; I’ve been abducted. This is real.
“Look at the American, all scared now,” sneers one kidnapper, flashing a brutal light straight into my eyes.
I squint and turn my head, trying to escape the blinding glare. My hands, bound tightly, are useless to shield my eyes.
