My stomach clenches, bile burning my throat.
I hear the door open and close, locks clicking into place as he walks out, leaving me simmering under the harsh lights with tears burning my eyes. I try to exhale, but the air is trapped in my chest, pressure building until I feel like I’m going to burst. I can’t seem to take a breath.
It’s a picture she drew of me.
I cover my mouth with my hand, stifling a sob, my other hand shaking the paper as I grip it tightly. After a moment, I clutch it to my chest, hugging it as I pull my legs up. Tears stream down my cheeks, streaking my dirty bare legs as I rest my head on my knees and cry.
And cry.
And cry.
Please let her be okay.
I give myself twenty minutes.
Or well, at least I think I do.
I don’t exactly have a watch here.
It’s hard to judge time in a void, and it’s not as if counting the seconds would make much of a difference, since I’d eventually waver and have to start over.
But it feels like twenty minutes before I swallow back my fears, wiping away my tears as I pull myself together, taking it one shaky breath at a time. Getting to my feet, I pace around, moving as far as the chain will let me go, stretching, trying to keep my strength up despite my soreness... despite my exhaustion... despite my thirst, my hunger, my fear...
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
I need a way out. I don’t yet know what that way is, but I’m imagining it’s not going to be easy, because getting out entails somehow getting past Kassian.
He said I wasn’t leaving this basement until I loved him. I made him believe I loved him once. Hell, maybe I actually did. I remember a time when I looked at Kassian like the universe existed beneath his skin, stars twinkling in his eyes, constellations in his soul, air and atmosphere and water forming his strong, masculine body, like without the breath from his lungs, breathing life into us all, the sun would no longer burn. I thought he was the Heavens and the Earth, I thought he was my savior, but he was really just Hell in disguise. They always did say the devil was beautiful.
I know too much now, though, and so does he.
I’m not sure I could ever trick him into believing I still love him, but unless you have a better idea... no? Didn’t think so.
Yeah, I’m totally screwed…
The basement door opens as I continue to pace, not a stitch of slack left in the chain as I move away from it as far as I can, turning to face the wall, needing a moment to dry my lingering tears before I can bring myself to look at him. There are footsteps on the stairs, too restrained to be Kassian’s, my head dizzy as a soft voice rings out. “Morgan?”
Slowly, I turn.
Alexis.
I saw her just days ago, standing in Lorenzo’s house. She’d been nervous then, but she seems to be even more nervous now. I’d already been deeply entrenched in life here when Kassian found her, another sweet little runaway girl in the city, one of the invisible, the forgotten. If you’re all alone, on your own, it means there’s nobody coming to save you, nobody to even miss you when you disappear. He exploits that, making you believe that without him, you’re nothing.
You have nothing; you mean nothing.
But he made a grave mistake with me.
You see, he gave me something. He gave me someone. I’ll never again be nothing, not as long as Sasha’s out there somewhere. He thought that he was further tethering me to him, but in reality, he gave me the motivation I needed to break those chains.
“I, uh... I brought you something to eat,” Alexis says quietly, offering me a small smile along with a brown paper bag. “You must be hungry.”
I stare at her for a minute before my eyes flicker past her. The basement door stands wide open at the top of the stairs. I can hear voices, thick Russian accents spewing foreign words up in the office of Limerence. For a fleeting moment, I imagine making a break for it, wondering how many people I’d need to overpower, but as soon as I take a step, the chain jingles, grounding me back in reality.
Right. Kassian has the key to the lock hanging around my neck.
“Does he know you’re feeding me?” I ask—a stupid question, frankly, because she wouldn’t be down here without his permission.
“He wants you to keep your strength up,” she says.
“Of course he does,” I mutter, taking the bag from her before plopping down in the metal chair, surprised he left it in here where I could sit on it... or smack him over the head with it. “Doesn’t want to fuck a corpse, right?”
“Right,” she whispers, her smile falling as she glances up the stairs before turning back to me. “It wasn’t me, Morgan. I swear. I would’ve never told—”
“I know,” I say, dropping the bagged lunch on the floor, discarding it by the leg of the chair. “Kassian said it was Lorenzo.”
She blanches. “What?”
“He said Lorenzo sent him his address.”
“But why would—?”
Before she can finish, heavy footsteps come down the stairs. I look that way when Kassian appears.
“Stupid girl,” he says, grabbing ahold of Alexis and pointing her toward the stairs. “Which part of ‘give her food’ did you think meant gossip?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Aristov,” Alexis whispers, rushing out of the basement.
He shakes his head, shouting, “Shut the door behind you!”
Alexis listens, the door closing, muffling the voices upstairs. Kassian turns to me once we’re alone, curving an eyebrow as he strolls closer to where I’m sitting. He watches me carefully, eyes scanning my face. I don’t move, don’t speak, forcing myself to not react to his presence, as hard as that is. I try to look unruffled, as calm and collect as he seems to be, but my hands are sweaty and my heart is racing so hard I’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear it.
As soon as he’s within reach, he grabs the chain, no hesitation as he yanks on it hard, wrenching me right out of the chair. I stumble, tripping, trying to catch myself, to soften the blow, but I hit the concrete on my hands and knees, stinging tearing through my already scuffed palms, my kneecaps painfully screaming.
Wincing, I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths as I roll over, plopping down on my ass. A trickle of blood runs down my right shin, the skin around the knee sliced open.
The metal shifts as Kassian drops down into the chair, his voice firm as he says, “This is my seat. I did not tell you to help yourself to it.”
“You didn’t—” I cut off abruptly when he raises his eyebrows, like he can’t believe I have the nerve to talk. You didn’t tell me not to, either. Those words were about to come out, but I know if I don’t watch my mouth, he might rip out my tongue, so I just leave it at that. “You didn’t.”
Reaching down, he picks up the brown bag lunch. “You are not eating, suka.”
“I’m not hungry,” I lie.