Page 13 of Sheltering Hollis

We drove on in silence, the sounds of the city a constant backdrop. My thoughts drifted to Olive, wondering if she was safe and being taken care of. Would she ask for help from the neighbor? Would she call the police and tell them I was missing? The image of her blond curls and the perfect bow her mouth made when she was sleeping filled my mind, strengthening my resolve. I had to find a way out of this mess for her sake.

As we navigated the streets of Bogotá, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a long and uncertain journey. But for now, I had to play along, gather information, and look for any opportunity to escape. Because no matter what this man said, I couldn’t afford to trust anyone completely.

As we approached the hotel, Dimitri glanced at me occasionally as if assessing my state of mind. The car came to a smooth stop in front of the entrance, and he quickly exited, walking around to open my door once more. His movements were swift, almost practiced, and I wondered about his life outside this moment.

Luka had already exited the car, standing close by Dimitri like they were in concert, his eyes darting around the street. It made sense, Bratva, always on the lookout for enemies. Somehow, I’d made the worst or best move of all time.

"Stay close," he instructed, his voice devoid of emotion, leaving no room for argument. His words hung in the air, their meaning like a poisonous cloud.

I nodded, my eyes darting around as I followed him into the hotel's opulent lobby. The architecture was beautiful and old. If I were on vacation, I would like to explore the area and visit the museums and churches. But I reminded myself I wasn’t on holiday and this wasn’t somewhere I would ever want to come. The cool air was a welcome relief from the oppressive heat outside. Sparkling like stars, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the pristine marble floors. The scent of fresh flowers, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the grimy warehouse I’d just left behind, filled the air, adding a touch of surrealism to the scene.

Luka and the driver flanked us, constantly reminding us of my precarious situation. Dimitri spoke to the hotel staff in rapid Spanish as we approached the reception desk, and they scattered with impressive and unnerving efficiency. He was obviously proficient in multiple languages, and I couldn’t help but be impressed. I’d barely made it through two years of high school Spanish.

Once we were in the elevator, the tension in the confined space was suffocating. I glanced at Dimitri, hoping to glean some hint of our next move from his expression, but his face was a blank mask. My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of our situation, but the answers remained elusive. The uncertainty of what lay ahead was almost unbearable. Why was he here if he wasn’t actually a trafficker? Or was he lying?

The elevator dinged, and we stepped onto a luxurious hallway leading into the penthouse. I was too tired to fully take it in—the living space, the doors to suites. Dimitri led me to a suite at the end, pushed the door open, and held it for me. I stepped inside, and the plush surroundings starkly contrasted the warehouse’s squalor.

"This will be your room," he declared, calm but authoritative. “You can freshen up and rest here. We’ll talk more later.” His words hung in the air, a reminder of my dependence on him, and I felt a shiver of apprehension run down my spine, but I was relieved that I was going to have a room of my own.

"We have dinner at Rodriguez's house later. You'll need to be ready,” he said, ending any relief I had felt the moment before.

"Dinner?" I echoed, the word feeling foreign in my mouth after the chaos of the past few days. “That man?” He wanted me to eat with that man? The man who kept women in cages?

"Yes," he replied. "And you’ll need to pretend. Rodriguez needs to believe the ruse that I’ve put forth.” He eyed me carefully. “You wish to go home, right, malysh?”

“Pretend how?” The thought of pretending to be with Dimitri made me nervous. But yes, I wanted to go home, and what I would do to make that happen was frightening.

“If I’d bought a woman, then I’d be fucking her. I wouldn’t be arriving alone to this engagement with Rodriguez. He’d expect me to bring my new toy to show off.” His eyes lit on me, scanning over my face and body as if he were assessing me for the first time. “If you feel you aren’t capable, then we must adjust the plan.”

"Fine," I said, my voice steadying. "But if you want me to help, I want a phone call and a promise that you’ll take me home, please.” Tears threatened, and I started to step forward but stopped myself. “Please. I want proof that you’re not just another monster."

He nodded, his expression serious, his brown eyes scouring my face. "Fair enough. We can arrange a phone call if you would like to shower first. I’ll bring food and clothing to you, and then we will get a secure line.”

He left the room, closing the door with a soft click. I stood there momentarily, trying to process everything before finally allowing myself to collapse onto the bed. The soft mattress felt like a cloud beneath me, but I couldn't relax. My mind was still racing, filled with thoughts of Olive and how I could get back to her.

I forced myself to get up and explore the room. In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face; the coolness was a welcome relief. Rinsing my mouth out, I did my best without toothpaste and drank as much as my stomach could hold. I didn’t bother looking at my reflection since I was sure that I looked like absolute crap. He said to shower, and my heart faded slightly even though I’m sure it wasn’t criticism. Scrabbling in the cabinet, I looked for a toothbrush and toothpaste but couldn’t find them either. Locking the door, I turned the water to its hottest setting and climbed in.

Since I’d been taken, I’d locked down my thought process on the terror of waking up in a strange place, the violation. Panicking, I brought my daughter’s face to mind and finished washing my hair using every bit the tiny bottle had. I had no time to indulge in a breakdown.

I tried to formulate a plan as I changed into the robe on the hanger. I just needed to focus on that phone call. That was all. Taking a deep breath, I settled myself, stuffing the dress I had been wearing into the trash can. There was no way I could put it back on. Just looking at it made me want to vomit. I needed to gather information, play along, and hope these men were telling me the truth. Maybe I’d gotten lucky after all. If not, I needed another plan, but I was out of the warehouse, away from Miguel Rodriguez … sort of. For now, that had to be enough.

Despite everything, I collapsed on the bed, wrapping myself tightly in the comforter, watching the door, hoping Dimitri would return with a phone. When I woke with a violent start, thrashing in the blankets, the room was bathed in the soft light of early evening. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and looked around. He was seated in the armchair by the window, his gaze fixed on the view outside. Dimitri turned when he heard me stir, his profile in sharp relief. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him being in my room.

Panic swept through me for a moment. Starting to hyperventilate, I tried to find a way to ground myself. Finally, I settled, focusing on the linens, the smoothness of the fabric, and the folds. It was clean. White. Doves were white, so were veils and peace …

“You’re safe, malysh,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. He had a deep, growly voice that settled something inside me. I didn’t even care what he was calling me. It made me feel cared for.

I nodded, still unsettled. "Yes, I’m okay.”

He stood, walking over to the small table where a food tray had been placed. "You should eat something. You need your strength."

I eyed the tray, my stomach rumbling despite my anxiety. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. Sitting at the table, I picked up a piece of fruit and bit into it. The sweetness was a welcome burst of flavor.

Dimitri sat across from me, watching as I ate. “You mentioned a phone call?” He held out a cell phone just out of reach. “Who do you need to call?”

There wasn’t much of a choice at this point. Perhaps he was worried that I’d call the police or something. I didn’t have any power, though. I was nobody, and I desperately wanted that phone. “My daughter. I don’t even know what day it is.” Running a hand over my hair, I pushed it out of my face. He watched me with an inexplicable expression.

“It’s Sunday, malysh the 26th. What day were you taken?”

---