Page 4 of Code of Captivity

Time blurred as I replayed my capture—my hacking, the Bratva’s brutal hands, the sudden plunge into this nightmare. I don't know how long I had been in here, but the hallucinations crept in: whispers, footsteps, distant clangs.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I called out, my voice hoarse.

But there was only a resounding silence—never an answer. My mouth was parched, the hard-boiled candies from my pocket long gone. The persistent hunger clawed at my gut, and my mind teetered on collapse.

Fear consumed me, a relentless tide of despair. I imagined Adrik’s cold eyes and the Bratva’s reputation for brutality. Would they interrogate me, or had they already decided that I was disposable? The uncertainty clawed at my insides, a gnawing dread that left me gasping in the stifling darkness.

I lay down on the filthy cold floor and closed my burning eyes. Hope flickered out, replaced by grim acceptance. Curled in the void, I was no longer a hacker, no longer a person—just another broken soul waiting for the end.

Chapter 3

Adrik

I sat at my desk, the dim glow of my computer screen casting sharp shadows across the room. Papers were strewn across the surface, reports and encrypted messages demanding my attention, but my focus kept slipping. My mind wandered back to the cell within the compound, to the hacker—the White Rabbit—who was defying every expectation.

I drummed my fingers on the desk, scowling at the fact that she had penetrated my thoughts. By now, most prisoners would be broken, their resolve shattered by the suffocating darkness, the silence, the stench. Begging, crying, pleading for mercy—I’d heard it all before. But not her. Not this one.

It annoyed me, this stubborn defiance. Who was she, this auburn-haired ghost who refused to break? I hadn’t gotten a good look at her during the capture—just a flash of her hair, the glint of fear in her eyes before I walked away. The crazy woman had been ready to jump out of the window. She was resourceful in her need to survive—littering the hallway with broken glass.

Yet here she was, lingering in my thoughts like an unsolved equation. My jaw tightened as I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight. She was supposed to be a means to an end, a loose end to tie up, but her resilience was...intriguing. Unsettling. It pissed me off, this curiosity was like an irritating splinter I couldn’t ignore.

Pushing myself to my feet, I straightened my suit with a sharp tug—enough waiting. If the cell wouldn’t break her, I would. I needed answers, yes, but more than that, I needed to see her face to understand what made her different.

As I strode down the dimly lit hallway, my footsteps echoing against the walls, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. The White Rabbit had held out longer than most, but no one could withstand me forever. I would see to her personally.

Viktor was guarding the building, ensuring no one would enter her cell to either free her or kill her. He saw me approach and took one last drag from his cigarette before pushing it into his can of soft drink. He had been rough in bringing her out of her apartment, but this was no surprise to me. An attack on the Bratva—on me in any form was unacceptable.

“Any change?” I asked, curious to know if she was suddenly begging for her life.

“There has been no change since my last report, Pakhan,” he said before he opened the door for me.

I stepped inside the building, and Viktor walked past me to unlock the door. We reached the cell, and I pulled out my handkerchief to cover my mouth and nose while he opened the door. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw her lying on the dirty floor. Her hoody was up, but her hair covered her face.

“Check her pulse,” I snapped at him.

Viktor crouched down beside her to move her hair away from her neck and placed his fingers to check her pulse. Her face was bruised on one side, and she had a cut at the bridge of her nose.

“She is alive but most likely dehydrated,” he said, remaining beside her.

“A stubborn littlekrolik,” I mused. “It’s time we got some answers. Tie her up in the interrogation room and leave two water bottles there.”

“Any food?” he asked as he lifted her, throwing her over his shoulder.

I frowned at the sight of her dirty jeans. Her hoody was probably stinking as well.

“No food, and leave the windows open,” I said before going back outside to get some fresh air in my lungs.

I stood for a moment wondering what the fuck was wrong with the woman who’d spent three days and nights in a shit-infested room without begging for mercy—my mercy. Was she truly willing to die? I took a few deep breaths of air before preparing myself for the stench in the room.

Viktor had tied her up to the wooden chair. Her ankles were bound to the legs, and her arms to the armrests. The barred windows were open, and I reached for a bottle of water.

“Hold her head up,” I said, not wanting to touch her. “You did a number on her face.”

He shrugged but kept her head upright. I poured the bottle of water over her face, and she began to splutter as it ran down to her hoody. She blinked the water out of her eyes, but the bright light was too much for her. Her eyes closed again, but not before I saw her warm mahogany eyes.

“I am Adrik Ilyin, Pakhan of the Bratva. Do you know why you are here?” I asked coldly, remembering what she did.

“Da,” she croaked out but kept her eyes closed.

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