Page 2 of Owned By the Bratva

Then I heard a scream coming from the other side of the door. I had to fight the urge to run. The man in the chair was clearly in excruciating pain. Remembering the large sheers, I tried to swallow the lump again, but it was stuck.

After a few steps, I extracted my phone to call the police. Glancing at the bright screen, I felt my heart racing, clawing at my ribcage, trying to escape. I had no signal. Closing the screen with my other hand, I glanced at the door, hoping the figure inside didn’t see the light.

I need to call the police. A man was being tortured, and my life depended on it.

Panic pulsed through me, closing my airways and numbing my body.

Get a grip, woman. I shouted in my mind.

Confident I was far enough into the dark not to be seen, I turned up and started walking a bit faster. I was still not sure how to get out, but I would keep going. I heard a creaking sound from behind as I took my second step. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the shadow standing in the open doorway with the shimmering light behind it.

It was time to run; he had seen me. Taking off at full speed with my heart in my throat and my mind blaring, I almost collided with the wall up ahead. Turning right into the next hallway, I heard him calling out.

“Hey, you, stop. I just want to talk.”

The voice was deep and low, but I knew stopping wasn’t a wise thing to do. My legs felt like lead as I moved up the dark corridor and into the next one. Taking a left, I found the glass doors leading up to the lobby. I reached out to grab the handle, panting like a dog, my lungs on fire. As my fingers touched the cold steel of the handle, I felt a strong hand close around my arm, jerking me backward.

“No,” I screamed, my voice echoing, but it was too late.

The shadowy figure had pulled me into his embrace. I felt his warm hand wrapping around my waist as he held me to his big physique, and the other covered my mouth. My feet dangled in the air as he lifted me from the ground. Turning, he started back toward the clammy darkness of the room at the end of the passage.

My chest tightened as if it was being sucked inward by a tornado of fear which was draining my life.

What was going to happen to me?

My mind was filled with dark images of my body being found disfigured next to a dump bin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it was all a dream. Why did I have to be so stubborn and competitive? If I’d only gone home with everyone else. I placed myself in this situation. Even though his hands were dry, there was a distinct coppery odor mixed with a sweetness I couldn’t discern. I knew the coppery odor was blood, but the sweetness was almost a flowery, minty odor.

Glancing down at the large hand holding me, I noticed the tattoo running over his hand and disappearing into his jacket. It looked like part of a scull covered in overgrown vines with tiny flowers. This man was surely not from the lab. I wondered if he was from a gang and what he could be wanting.

His grip was tight but didn’t hurt, which was a bit confusing. If he was intent on getting rid of me, why bother to be gentle, I wondered. Maybe I still had a chance of getting out of this mess.

But no, my mind wouldn’t allow me any slack as it brought forth the images of the man down the hall being tortured. I tried kicking again and pulling at the man's hand, but he was too strong. My feet didn’t even touch the ground, and all my kicking only resulted in more panic.

I would have to accept my fate. But I was too young to die; at twenty-three, I still had my whole life before me. My eyes started burning and itching as the first tears rolled down my cheeks. Would I be missed, and would anyone even come looking for me? I wondered, feeling my heart slowing down. Both my parents passed away last year, and being an only child, there were no siblings.

With the long hours and moving away, even my handful of friends wouldn’t miss me. My heart felt heavy, as if it was being crushed, as I realized I was all alone. Being so new here, I doubted if my co-workers would come looking.

If this was the end of the line for me, I would go down swinging, I vowed. As soon as he placed me down, I would turn and scratch his eyes out. I was trying hard to convince myself. Yet, anxiety was trying to get the upper hand as my body fought against the shocking numbness. I planned out every move in my mind, needing to feel some sort of control.

Entering the musty room, the stranger shoved the door closed behind us. I felt sure I recognized the man in the chair but couldn’t recall his name. If my memory served me right, he worked on the sixteenth floor. My keycard only allowed access to the bottom five. I wondered what he had gotten himself into, seeing that he was being tortured.

His head hung against his chest, and his breathing was shallow. There was a streak of blood running along one side of his head, and I was sure his ear was missing. My body shook slightly as the sight of him filled me with dread. The bounds around his wrists were red from the blood, and next to him on the floor lay two fingers. The room reeked of that coppery metal smell of blood.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit, I started to convulse in the stranger's arm. “No, don’t you dare,” he breathed over my shoulder as he turned around. Facing the other way, I saw a bag spread open on the table. It was filled with knives, strange instruments, and a gun. I swallowed hard, feeling a steady increase of sweat in the nape of my neck.

If he would just let me go, I felt sure, I would be able to get to the gun. But I wondered if I would be able to pull the trigger. Yet, I might not need to. Aiming it at him would surely be enough to get me out of there.

But the man was no idiot. He collected a rag from the table and pushed it into my mouth. Then he bound my arms behind me and placed a piece of tape over the gag so I couldn’t push it out. He placed me down next to the table facing the wall. “Now, be a good girl, and I won’t need to hurt you.” He added before turning his attention back to the man in the chair.

Even though I was riddled with fear, I felt a strange sense of calm as well. His touch had been soft from the first moment as he pulled me into his arm. Even gagging and binding me, he worked with care, it seemed.

I pondered on what was happening in this room. Yes, I saw the blood, the fingers, and the tied-up man. Yet, the giant of a monster was gentle with me.

Scanning the wall before me, I noticed a faded red button slightly up on the wall behind the table. Glancing back, the man was standing with his back to me. Quietly and quickly, I pushed myself up against the table leg. If I could only get to the button on the wall before he noticed. I felt sure if it still worked, it would sound like some kind of alarm.

Chapter 2 - Leon

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