Chapter 46

Laura

“SUKA, CAN’T handle a pussy?” The voice is harsh, mocking as it cuts through the dark, yanking me awake. My eyes are heavy, but I pry them open. I’m in a dimly lit space, the light barely enough to make out anything.

What- what’s going on?

Pain explodes in my jaw, sharp and brutal. I taste blood, metallic and sharp, on my inner cheeks. The pain is nothing compared to the terror gripping me.

Oh, no, no, no!

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.

Where the hell am I?

The question echoes in my mind, raw and desperate. Have they been driving long?

“Stop fucking around, suka!” A gruff voice from behind barks out an order, “Bring her in, now.”

“Yes, yes,” comes a reluctant reply.

I feel rough hands grab me, dragging me out of the back of the van. Panic surges as I struggle, but my efforts are futile, my screams muffled by the gag. The brute hauls me out violently, my body scraping against metal.

“Suka! Be still, American.” The man hoists me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I thrash, trying to break free, but it’s like fighting a brick wall. My mind races with fear and desperation.

He carries me across an expanse of land, the breeze carrying distant sounds and unfamiliar scents. I strain to see, catching glimpses of a sprawling, eerie compound. It’s vast, desolate.

Where am I?

As he walks, the thud of his boots against the ground is steady, unyielding. He greets someone with a laugh.

“Got another one, eh?” a gravelly voice greets us, amusement laced with something sinister.

“Just shut up and open the door, Oleg,” my captor growls, his grip tightening on me.

I hear an old, heavy metal door groan open.

The stench hits me first—a foul blend of rat urine and decay. My stomach churns. We proceed down a dim passage, the air growing heavier, more suffocating with each step.

He stops, speaking to another man. I hear the distinct sound of buttons being pressed, a code entered. Another door opens, and my heart drops.

What I see is beyond any horror I could imagine.

Cells line the walls, each one a small cage of despair. Inside, women huddle in corners or stare blankly through the bars.

What is this place?

He stops abruptly, and I hear the beep of a keypad, followed by the clunk of locks disengaging. Another door opens.

“Mmm mmm mmmmm,” I sob into the gag, my cries muffled and futile.

“Boss is waiting,” calls a distant voice.

The man carrying me quickens his pace, his steps more determined. I’m jostled painfully as he steps into an old metal elevator. The flickering light bulb casts eerie shadows.

Jesus.

We ascend, the elevator groaning under our weight. I hear distant cries of pain and despair.

Please, please, someone help me.

The elevator jerks to a stop.

He carries me out, and I’m hit with a scene so grotesque it paralyzes me with fear. The walls are adorned with chains and cuffs, instruments of pain and pleasure mingled together in a horrifying display.

The air is filled with the sounds of moaning and whimpering.

A man walks past, dragging a chain linked to a girl in a barely-there dress. “Faster!” he commands.

She looks up at him with a mix of fear. Her answering, “Yes, sir,” is barely audible, but it’s enough to send shivers down my spine.

The man leads her to a table where other men sit, eyeing her like she’s a piece of meat. The scene unfolds with a casualness that’s horrifying. The girl’s dress is lowered, exposing her to the room. I can’t tear my eyes away as she’s touched, moans escaping her lips. It’s so out of place, so wrong, yet no one bats an eye.

This… this a BDSM brothel house?

As he carries me andwalks down the shadowed hallway, the scent of leather and sweat fills my nostrils. Through the thick, ornate doors, I can hear moans and cries accompanied by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

In one of the rooms, the girls, scantily clad in lingerie, are lined up like cattle against the damp walls, their eyes wide with fear as they await their fate. A leering figure with a twisted smile drags one girl to a table, her body trembling as she is offered up to another man sitting there, his greedy gaze devouring her form. In a single swift motion, her dress is ripped away, exposing her helpless body to the hungry eyes of the depraved onlookers. She screams and moans as multiple hands roam over her flesh, violating her.

My eyes sting with tears, fear making them spill over.

Help me. Jesus.

Thud, Thud.

“I got the girl,” my captor announces as he knocks on the door.

The first thing I see in the room as the door closes are more men standing by the doorway. A safe’s cracked open in the corner, white bags of powder and stacks of… Gold and cash.

Boxes of weapons stacked up together.

Oh. My. God.

“Hello, Laura. Sit.” I hear a rough, deep voice.