Page 6 of Between Power and Passion

I stiffen at the mocking laughter that echoes through the room. "You're wrong," the man says with contempt. "No matter how much you hate your family, in this kind of business, your father will be forced to react because I've just directly announced to the world that Sergei cannot protect his own daughter."

I can tell the man has thought things out. My father would not be moved by the threat to my life—I'm sure of it after what he did two days ago. But if it's to protect his honor and power, Sergei will come crashing in without thinking, and this man will have him exactly where he needs him to be.

"What will you do to me?" My voice trembles despite my efforts to remain strong. It's not every day you're used as a bargaining chip.

"You'll find out soon enough," he replies, the sinister promise giving me a chill. Then, in a low, almost tender tone, he utters a name I never thought I'd hear again. "My little songbird."

My heart stutters at the familiar endearment… that voice, those words...

"Dmitri?" I breathe, scarcely daring to hope.

A sudden silence dawns in the room, and the lack of response fuels the storm of emotions swirling within me. He can't be alive. But if it is him...

"Dmitri, is that you?" I call out again. This time, I hear him get up from the chair. I struggle against my bindings.

"Dmitri, please! If it's you, say something! Anything!"

The rough fabric scratches against my face as the blindfold is yanked away. I blink rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the grimy windows. When my vision finally focuses, a strangled sob escapes my lips.

There, standing before me with clenched fists and a brooding expression, is the man I thought I'd lost forever—Dmitri. His eyes burn with an intensity I've never seen before, scorching through the layers of shock and disbelief clouding my mind.

"You're alive," I breathe, the words catching in my throat. Tears spill down my cheeks as reality crashes over me in waves.

He's here, real and breathing. Not the ghost that has haunted my dreams for years.

He gives a curt nod, his jaw ticking with barely restrained emotion. "As you can see."

My mind reels as memories come flooding back—Dmitri's sudden disappearance, my father's cold declaration that he was dead, the anguish I felt at losing the man I loved... it was all a lie.

"But how?" I ask, my voice trembling. "Father told me you were killed. He said—"

Dmitri punches the wall, and the whole room shakes. I flinch at the raw anger in him. His arm muscles are tight and tense. "Your father wanted my family dead," he spits out. "He slaughtered them like animals."

"That can't be true…" I whisper, my voice shaking. My father couldn't possibly do that. He loved Dmitri like a son…

Dmitri lets out a harsh laugh that grates against my skin. "You know nothing of what your father is capable of." His eyes blaze with a fury that makes me recoil. "I watched as his men slaughtered my family—my father, mother, and little sister—for a mistake they were innocent of."

No, it can't be true. Father would never... But the accusation rings with conviction, shattering the image of the man I thought I knew.

"Dmitri, I... I'm so sorry," I whisper, hot tears streaking down my cheeks. How could I have been so blind to the depravity surrounding me?

He steps closer, his expression twisted with rage. "Save your pity," he growls. "You're here to pay the price for your family's sins. I can't promise you'll make it out alive."

A tremor of fear courses through me at the blatant threat, but it's overwhelmed by the ache in my chest. Alive... Dmitri is alive. He survived whatever horrors my father inflicted upon him. Despite the turmoil, a glimmer of hope sparks within me that perhaps we can move past this, find solace in each other once more.

"Please," I plead, straining against the ropes binding me to the chair. "Let me touch you. I need to know you're real, that this isn't some cruel dream tormenting me."

For a fleeting moment, Dmitri's gaze softens, and I see a glimpse of the tenderness he once showered me with. But it's gone in an instant, his expression hardening like steel as he turns on his heel and storms out, the door slamming behind him with a deafening finality.

Dmitri... what have they done to you?

Chapter 4 - Dmitri

9 years ago

I dribble the ball down the field, my friends chasing after me as the warm summer sun beats down on us. The laughter and shouts of teenage boys fill the air, carefree and joyful.

"Pass it here, Dmitri!" Mikhail calls out, waving his arms frantically.

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