Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Helena

As consciousness slowly seeped back into my mind, I found my senses dulled. With a groan, I struggled to push through the sticky veil that seemed to surround me, my eyelids fluttering open to reveal the dimly lit surroundings of the room. I woke groggy, unsure of where I was. It came in pieces, jagged and uncertain. I'd been drugged.

At first, everything was a blur, and my vision was clouded. I couldn't tell how long I'd been out, but my head hurt almost unbearably. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and the details of the room came into focus. It was small and cramped, with bare walls and a tiny window covered by heavy curtains blocking any semblance of daylight.

The air was heavy with the scent of stale cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, making my stomach churn with nausea. My head throbbed, a lingering reminder of whatever had happened before I lost consciousness.

Panic clawed at the edges of my mind as the memories came flooding back, the events crashing over me like a tidal wave. The diner, the men with the accent, being dragged away ... The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, sending a shiver of fear down my spine.

Was I in Makarovich's hands now? The thought sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, my heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat of dread. Shit, I needed to find a way out of here. There was no telling what could happen to me here. If this was Makarovich, they might be looking for information on what I knew or … worse, revenge for the drives I'd sent out. I had no idea what repercussions occurred after those were sent out. I probably really pissed him off.

Glancing around the room, I searched for any sign of escape, but the window was too small to fit through, and the door was securely locked. There didn't seem to be a way out, and there was no way to call for help.

Maddox wouldn't let me down. He'd come for me. There would be hell to pay when he found out I was gone. My mind raced … I was on break so Daisy would look for me. She wouldn't have let me go very long. She'd call the clubhouse – right? Suddenly struck with anxiety, I mulled over the time frame I'd need to have been gone before she'd make the call. I had told Vito about the men in the dining room, so that'd been at least been good. Probably the only smart thing I'd done.

As I gathered my resolve and pushed myself into a sitting position on the narrow bed, I winced as a wave of dizziness washed over me. The room spun momentarily before gradually settling into place, disorienting me.

My clothes were still intact, so that was something. Just as I was taking inventory, the door swung open, and one of the men who had been in the diner earlier sauntered in. He looked so smug that I wanted to vomit. Was he proud of hitting a woman over the head? What a dick.

"I got her, look," he said as he entered the room. He was talking to someone over his shoulder, though they were behind him, and I couldn't see them. His words were like a knife twisting in my gut, a sickening reminder of the kind of people these were.

I squared my shoulders and met his gaze head-on, refusing to show any sign of weakness. At the very least, a little resilience. "You won't get away with this," I spat, trembling.

His smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flash of irritation. "Feisty one, ain't she?" he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the unseen figure behind him. "Well, someone'll have to train her up."

I'd always been protected in this world by my father, by my last name. The Brotherhood had never been involved in anything to do with trading women. There were club girls, but anything regarding women was done with their consent. This was the first time that I was powerless. I was undoubtedly here due to my stupidity, and in this dingy room, there wasn't anything to bargain, and I knew it.

Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach like a lead weight. What could they have planned for me? Uncertainty gnawed at me, fueling my fear and desperation.

Before I could respond, the man turned his attention back to me, his gaze cold and calculating.

"You're gonna stay put in here until we're ready for you," he said, his tone laced with menace. "Don't even think about trying anything funny. We don't take kindly to mouthy bitches."

With that ominous warning in the air, the man turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving me alone once more. I was left reeling, my mind racing about how to escape and survive.

Maddox and the Brotherhood would come for me. I was sure of it. And when they did, I would be ready. Until then, all I could do was bide my time and do my best to watch for an opening to rescue myself if I could. With that thought to cling to, I steeled myself for whatever might come, determined to stay strong. No matter what, I wouldn't give up without a fight.

Sinking onto the bed, I leaned my head against the wall, not daring to close my eyes even though I was still groggy from whatever they drugged me with. My stomach turned over. The bacon that had seemed delicious earlier now appeared on a spin-cycle. I tried to center my thoughts on Maddox, the light hazel green in his eyes. The way his hands had felt on my hips yesterday. Tears sprung in my eyes at the possibility that I might not get the chance to be with him again in that way, that someone else might touch me first. Quickly wiping them away, I reminded myself those thoughts weren't productive.

When the door creaked open once more, it was to reveal the imposing figure of Sergei. Well, that confirmed it. I was well and truly screwed, but I rose to my feet anyway. There was no way that I wouldn't stand and face whatever was coming.

"So, you thought you could run away?" He was all cold fury, his eyes glacial.

At Concorde, I worked for years without a hint of people like Makarovich or Sergei. The accounting job had been the furthest away from the MC life as possible, or so I'd thought. My dad would have never dreamed I'd end up tangled in this mess. It was almost laughable. I'd turned over all the facts in my head, trying to figure out a timeline for when they'd shown up, and I couldn't find one.

"I went on vacation." Maybe a bluff would work. If I denied that I knew anything, would that save me? It was a long shot, but I had nothing else to think of at this red-hot moment.

Sergei snorted without humor. "Suka, don't lie to me. Lies don't do you any good. The boss blamed me, you know."

Uh oh. This wasn't good. I wasn't sure what Sergei was blamed for, but I didn't want anything to do with Makarovich blaming him for anything. The way he looked at me meant all bad things to me.

"Scared, are we?" Sergei's voice dripped with malice, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. It was pretty obvious he enjoyed the idea of me being scared. "You should be. The boss thinks I betrayed him — that I betrayed the Bratva."

Wait a second. Tilting my head, I considered him. "I could help you," I tried, but his face turned a more dangerous shade of puce. I added, "Makarovich wasn't acting on the Bratva's orders."

The attack was vicious, the open-handed slap so hard that it whipped my head to the side and sent me to my knees.

"You lying bitch!" he shouted.

I raised the back of my hand to my lip and wiped away the blood. For fuck's sake, if it hurt so much to get hit in the face, why did people box? Pushing off the floor, I struggled to get back to my feet.

"I don't lie." The words were heavy in my throat, but I wouldn't back down at this juncture. This might be the opening I needed. "He wasn't working with the Volkov pakhan." Sergei's eyes opened wider. This name was the right one to use. I was thanking my lucky stars for paying attention when Maddox was talking. Sergei's hand reached out and closed around my throat, squeezing.

"You are not Bratva. Why do you know that name?" he demanded.

Gasping, clutching at my throat, it seemed as if he'd squeeze me until my eyes popped like one of those squeezy toys. His face was right against mine, his breath hot against my cheek. Sergei was a big man, much larger than I was certainly. Well — everyone was bigger than I was. It wasn't my fault I never seemed to get very big. The giant oaf was angrier than I'd ever seen him, which wasn't good for me. This was the only option, though, that I could think of to try and reason with him.

Choking a little, I grappled with his fingers, indicating that he needed to loosen his grip if he wanted any information while I tried to figure out what to give. Did Sergei know that I'd been with the Iron Brotherhood? Surely, he did. That wouldn't be providing information that he didn't have.

"What do you know of the Bratva? Suka," he spit at me. Literal spit drops hit my face, I realized with disgust. What a pig. He threw me from him hard enough that I hit the opposite wall with so much force that I slid stunned to the floor. My entire skeleton was rattled.

"I wasn't on vacation. You're right." Setting my palms against the grimy carpet, I focused on my fingertips, the cute nails I'd painted before leaving for work at the duck. I'd redone my nails with a bright yellow to match the lettering on the T-shirts. Initially, I'd thought of doing a little duck on one, but that was beyond my skill. Then my brain had come up with the idea of maybe actually spelling out ‘duck' or even ‘odd' on the one hand and ‘duck' on the other, like in black. If I could manage it upside down in little block letters, it could be super cute, right? Maybe Jills could help me. Suddenly depressed, I came rushing back into my body, my hands pressed against the dirty carpet and Sergei yelling.

He was screaming at me in Russian, standing in front of me while I was slumped down like a broken doll. "Tell me, tell me!" He demanded.

"I can tell you that Makarovich wasn't working under the pakhan's orders. You can check if I'm lying. He's lied to you if you think you were following Bratva orders. The pakhan won't be happy if something happens to me." This part was a huge gamble. I had no idea if the Volkov pakhan would know who I was or give two shits about me or even connect me to the Iron Brotherhood if Sergei called.

Suddenly, Sergei unleashed a volley of kicks to my abdomen, vicious and swift with his booted feet. Curling into a ball, I tried vainly to protect myself as he went wild, lashing out with his feet as I scooted as far away as possible and tried to endure.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was more than likely only a minute, he was exhausted and leaned his hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his temple. "You better not have lied. I will call the pakhan, and he better back your story up."

Whimpering, I pulled even tighter into the corner and prayed with all my might that this unknown man might someone save me.