Chapter 4

Lydia

CHAPTER FOUR

Our meal’s come to an end, and I’m starting to get nervous about Vera’s messages to me, but Timur seems in no rush like he was before. Instead, his moves seem almost… calculated. Planned.

The waiter brings us our check, and Timur pays.

“Listen, I need to speak to my sister right away. Can we go?”

“Of course.” He doesn't meet my eyes, and a muscle twitches in his jaw, but when I give him a second glance, he's all gentlemanly grace as he puts his hand on my lower back and leads me to his car. A valet brings it to the curb. He opens the door for me, and I slide into the passenger seat as he gets into the driver's seat.

But something’s off kilter as if there’s a movie playing, but the reel is skipping, each second that passes a hair disjointed. The silence between us crackles with unspoken tension, the air thick with my repressed fears and whatever the hell is brewing with my fiancé.

“What did your sister say?” he asks as he unhurriedly pulls into the street. The car engine purrs, and it’s almost reassuring.

Everything’s fine.

There’s nothing to worry about.

Still, my hands itch to strike the lighter in my bag. I can already hear the snitch of flame and see the flicker of measured fire. I swallow hard and look out the window.

I’m an adult now. I’m not the rebellious teen looking for something to control.

“Not much… just to come home.”

“So she told you nothing.”

“No,” I tell him. “I don’t know at all. It’s a little odd; ever since Vera got married, she’s been mysterious about things. She told me that I needed to talk with her in person.” I don’t tell him she thinks my phone’s unsafe.

“Of course she doesn’t. She fucking married a Romanov.”

I look at him sharply. I didn’t even know he knew a thing about her. Is this going to be an issue?

I trust Timur, but…

I’m looking down at my phone, trying to catch up on messages, when I see that my last messages to Vera never sent. Strange.

“Put it away, Lydia,” he says cooly. “You know how I feel about that when we’re together.” His fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel.

“I know, but she’s worried.” I’m distracted, trying to figure out if my cell phone service is working and don’t notice the rising tone of his voice.

“She has no reason to be worried.” He exhales. “I’m losing my patience. Put the damn thing away.”

“I need to?—”

The next thing I know, he snatches my phone from my hand, rolls down the window, and tosses it into oncoming traffic.

“Timur!”

His lips are set into a thin line as we drive even faster.

“How could you do that? That was my cell phone. Oh my God!” I clutch at his arm, but he shoves me off of him so hard I bang into the passenger door.

I open my mouth to protest further when I realize we’re driving in the wrong direction. Ice pulses through my veins, my cell phone forgotten.

I draw in a deep breath. I have to stay calm. I can’t lose it.

“Timur. Where are we going? I thought we were heading home.” This is not the right direction.

“We are,” he says, a hardness to his voice.

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. I glance around, the dark waters of the river glinting under the bridge lights as we speed across.

Before I can process the information or what the hell he’s talking about, the car jolts to a stop. My heart leaps into my throat as I see a car in the rearview mirror gaining on us.

You’re in danger.

Without missing a beat, Timur reaches under his seat and pulls out a handgun, his expression cold and determined.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, my voice trembling. “What the hell is going on? Oh my God. You know what she’s talking about!”

“Yeah, I fucking knew they were coming.” He shakes his head. “No matter what happens, stay in the car,” he orders, his voice like steel. “Don’t move.”

Panic grips me. I’ve never seen him hold a gun before. And while I knew who he was, at least on paper, I’ve never seen him act any way but civilized and refined.

My breath catches as someone yells, and shots ring out.

The car lurches forward suddenly, hit from behind. I scream as Timur leaps back inside, slamming the door. “Get down!” he shouts, pressing on the accelerator. We’re speeding down the bridge, the sounds of gunfire and shouting fading into the distance.

“What’s happening?” I cry, fear clawing at my chest.

You’re in danger.

Is this what Vera was talking about?

He doesn’t answer, his focus razor-sharp on the road ahead. But when a loud bang rocks the car again, we swerve wildly. I scream, clutching the door as we crash into the guardrail. The world spins, and to my horror, the car flips, skidding to a halt upside down. The airbag balloons out, crushing me. My head smashes against something, and pain ricochets through my skull. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

I’m crying, dazed and disoriented, as I fumble with my seatbelt, the world a chaotic blur of noise and pain. I have a vague idea I should assess the situation, but I’m confused and can’t figure out how. I somehow make it outside, my vision blurred and hazy. My dress hangs wildly off one shoulder, torn to shreds.

My eyes are wild with fear as I scream for Timur, but he’s already gone, running toward the edge of the bridge.

A large figure cloaked in darkness stalks toward him; something about his heavy, unhurried steps terrifying. His eyes are locked on Timur.

“Stop!” he barks, his words a harsh command. Timur turns, gun in hand, and I scream aloud.

Strong arms wrap around me. I struggle, trying to push them away, but I’m hurt, and my reflexes are slow.

“No! Let me go!” I yell, thrashing against my captor’s grip.

The world around me seems to blur as adrenaline surges through my veins, heightening every sense to a fever pitch. I hear a sickening thud and a cry of pain. I scream and push, but it’s no use.

Someone’s got him. Whoever has come for us has Timur, and they’re beating him.

“Stop! No!” I yell. “Help!”

Each blow feels like a physical blow to my own body, each cry of pain a dagger to my heart. I want to look away, bury my head in my hands and block out the nightmare playing out before me, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the horror.

Why won’t anyone stop to help?

A gunshot rings out. Timur takes off, hoists himself up on the bridge—and he’s gone.

I scream and struggle, but it’s no use; whoever’s holding me has me secured.

“Let me go!”

“Stop fighting.” The voice is deep, commanding, and unfamiliar. I look up to see a tall, hulking man with a shaved head and a scar running down his cheek. His strong, unyielding grip terrifies me, his presence overwhelming. He holds me easily as if my struggles are nothing.

An alarm clangs in my memory. Somehow, he looks vaguely familiar. I don’t know him, but I’ve seen him before.

A hysterical scream is torn from my lips. “No! Timur!” I sob, my body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck!” one of the men yells. “Fucking get him!”

“Listen to me! You’re safe now, Lydia.”

He knows my name?

The fucking liar.

I continue to shove and scream, but I might as well be a mouse in the paws of a lion. With practiced ease, he deflects my blows, as if they barely register, before he bends and lifts me. He tucks me against his chest gently, but he’s so much bigger than I am that I can’t fight him off.

My vision clears slightly, and the bridge lights illuminate the intense eyes of my captor. His expression is a mixture of concern and steely determination.

He’s holding me against him as if I weigh nothing. I’m sturdy and curvy… I’m not a petite little thing you might carry around like a doll. Only a man the size of a superhero would be able to hold me in his arms with such ease.

The thought only escalates my terror.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “You’re safe.”

Safe? Of course I’m not safe. We were attacked. I saw him beat my fiancé with his own hands.

As I struggle, another man appears, younger and more clean-cut, his expression serious as he speaks to my captor in Russian. I can’t fully hear their exchange, but the younger man’s presence adds to my fear.

“Put her in the back of the car,” a third man says, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. He’s tall and imposing, yet as solid as the others. “Vera can explain.”

Vera?

What?

“No! Let me go!” I demand, convinced they are kidnapping me. “Don’t touch me!”

“Lydia, calm down,” the one holding me says, his voice softer yet firm. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

How does he know my name?

But I’m too terrified to listen, my mind filled with my sister’s warning and the sight of Timur fleeing.

Is my sister working with the enemy?

She fucking married a Romanov.

“Please,” the big guy holding me says. “I’ll explain?—”

“Fuck.” Tires squeal as a car heads our way, driving at top speed. The big man holding me leaps to the side with me in his arms, crashing to the ground just in time as gunshots ring out. He cages me beneath him as if using his huge body as a human shield. From my vantage point, I can see the tall one stand and pull the trigger, one after another after another. Glass crashes, and one of the tires explodes before it slams head-on into the guard rail.

There’s a hiss of airbags, and someone screams, but no one gets out of the vehicle. I’m shaking uncontrollably, and I have the sudden urge to vomit.

“Ledyanoye Bratstvo,” the younger one says in a growl.

Someone’s opening a door. I struggle against his grip, but it’s no use. I’m overpowered, lifted in his arms, and pushed into the car as if I’m a doll. I slap at strong hands, clawing and screaming. One of them wraps something over my wrists, and another buckles me in.

“I’ve got this,” the younger one says. “Viktor, don’t murder me.” A roar sounds in my ears when something sharp pricks my skin. I scream, and the larger one tugs me against him.

“Enough,” the largest one growls in a voice that makes my heart stop. “No one touches her but me.” He slides in beside me.

“You’re not thinking straight,” the younger one says. “She’s wild and unpredictable, and we don’t have what it takes to keep her safe.”

“He’s right.”

The huge one roars like an animal but holds me against him. “I’ve fucking got her.”

“Jesus,” the younger one mutters.

“You’d better fucking pray to him. I’m going to beat your fucking ass for that.”

“He can’t think straight,” the tall one says to the younger one. “He’s out of his mind.”

What is happening? My head feels too heavy and strangely tight.

Oh God.

What are they going to do to me?

As we speed away, I glance out the window, the city lights blurring past.

They have to be the enemies of my fiancé. I have no idea where we’re going or what they’re doing, but I have to stay calm. I have to take in every detail so I can plan my escape.

But, he said Vera would explain?—

I have to remain calm until I talk to my sister.

Even as we drive away, my mind races with thoughts of escape and the fear of what these men might do to me.

I’ve never seen these men before. I quickly assess the situation. It’s three strong men against me, alone, and none of them look easy to get away from. The big guy, the one who carried me to this car, with the scar across one cheek, has a look in his eyes that tells me he’s no stranger to violence. I shiver.

The tall one with black hair and those blue, blue eyes is the one driving, the younger one in the passenger seat. He looks over his shoulder at the man beside me. “I don’t trust her. She’s unpredictable.”

I gawk. “I’m not going to do anything,” I lie because I was absolutely planning on getting the hell out of here as soon as the car slowed down. But my words are already slurred, and my limbs feel as if they’re weirdly detached from my body. Panic rises as I realize I’ve been drugged. My vision blurs, and a heavy numbness seeps into my muscles, making it impossible to move. The interior of the car spins, and I struggle to keep my eyes open, my mind racing with thoughts of escape that now seem hopelessly out of reach.

They drive in silence, the speed terrifying me. My head lolls. I fight to stay awake, to keep my eyes open.

“Who are you?” My voice trembles, the words barely coherent. I will it to stop. I want to stay in charge of myself and my emotions. I don’t want to be a helpless, overpowered female. “Where is Timur?”

“Good fucking question,” the driver growls. “I’d like to know that myself.”

The driver and the man next to me look at each other in the rearview mirror.

“We are friends of your sister, Vera,” one finally says. “Call her.”

Vera.

When the men don’t respond, I realize he’s talking to me.

“I don’t have my phone.”

“Shit. You lost your bag in the crash?”

I look around me wildly as if it’s somehow going to spawn into the interior of the car. Of course I don’t have my bag.

“Yes.” I don’t tell them Timur threw my cell phone away before they came. It feels foolish to give them more ammunition against him when they already tried to kill him. The world goes in and out of consciousness as if someone’s shutting the lights on and off.

It’s warm in here, a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped me earlier. The man who captured me holds me against him with a tenderness that defies his rugged exterior, an unexpected gentleness that catches me off guard. I tell myself to be wary. No one is here to protect me.

My head rests on his shoulder, and instinctively, he wraps a protective arm around me, cocooning me in his embrace. I blink against impending sleep, but the warmth is soothing, a balm to my frayed nerves. I can’t think beyond the threat of sleep lulling me into a reluctant surrender.

I can’t… think.

Yet one word surfaces, intense and surprising in its clarity: safe.