Page 80 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

I will find her and bring her home. God help anyone who stands in my way.

My eyelids snap open as hard resolve fills me. “Drive faster,” I order. The SUV surges forward, weaving through traffic. The clock is ticking. Claire is waiting, and Matvey Petrov is about to learn exactly why I am the most feared man in Philadelphia.

30

Claire

The chill seeps into my bones as I huddle on the cement bench of my damp cell. Stone walls loom around me, their rough surface mocking any hope of escape. Rusted bars block the only exit. My stomach twists with fear, but I cling to one thought—Valerian. He’ll come for me. He always finds a way.

My mind wanders as fear settles into a constant state that saps my energy. A random thought occurs to me. How did Matvey’s men infiltrate “Eastern State Penitentiary,” a historic site turned tourist attraction? Bribed the guards, no doubt. Corruption at every level. It’s just another example of Matvey Petrov’s reach extending farther than I ever imagined.

The thought terrifies me, but it also ignites a spark of defiance. I won’t go down without a fight. I can’t with four tiny lives depending on me now.

I force myself to stand, ignoring the wave of nausea that washes over me. My hands instinctively move to my still-flat stomach.“We’ll get out of this,” I whisper to my unborn children. “Your dad will find us.”

A scraping sound echoes down the corridor. Footsteps approach, and I press myself against the wall, heart pounding. The rusty hinges of the cell door creak open. I expect it to be Matvey, but his man, Gavriil, saunters in, his eyes glinting with malice. My pulse skyrockets once more as I press myself against the cold stone wall, desperately searching for an escape route that doesn’t exist.

His lips curl into a cruel smile. “Looks like Matvey’s little prize is awake.”

I clench my fists, willing my voice not to shake. “What do you want?”

He chuckles, the sound grating against my nerves. “Just a little taste.” Gavriil takes a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the tiny cell. “Matvey might be persuaded to let you live if you make yourself useful.”

The proposition in his tone turns my stomach. I swallow hard, gagging on nothing. There’s no way out and no backup coming. It’s just me against this hulking brute. “I’d rather die,” I spit out, summoning every ounce of defiance I can muster.

His eyes narrow. “That can be arranged.” He lunges forward, reaching for me with meaty hands. Adrenaline surges through my veins again, and I react on pure instinct. I drive my knee upward, connecting solidly with his stomach. Gavriil’s breath leaves him in a pained whoosh.

Not wasting a second, I shove him with all my strength. He stumbles backward, cracking his head against the rusted sinkwith a sickening thud. His eyes roll back, and he crumples to the floor in a heap.

For a moment, I stand frozen, hardly daring to breathe. I see his chest rise and fall, so the bastard didn’t have the courtesy to die. When he doesn’t move, I spring into action. My fingers tremble while searching his pockets, finally closing around a set of keys. My cell is currently unlocked, but I might need the keys to access other doors for my escape.

The cell door squeals as I push it open, wincing at the noise. I pause, listening for any sign the sound has alerted others. Nothing but eerie silence greets me.

Pulse hammering, I slip into the corridor. The abandoned prison stretches before me as a maze of crumbling concrete and rusted metal. I pick a direction at random and start moving, trying to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible. The air is thick, and the stench of decay is inescapable. I fight the urge to gag and realize they must have me in an unused section of the prison. The tourists would never accept this kind of stench when visiting and paying money to see it.

Every junction presents a new decision, and a new opportunity to get hopelessly lost. Left or right? Up or down? Each choice feels like it could be the difference between freedom and capture... or worse.

A distant sound echoes through the corridors. Voices? Footsteps? I can’t tell, but panic claws at my throat. I duck into an alcove, pressing myself against the wall and willing myself to become invisible.

The noise fades, and I let out a shaky breath, but as I step back into the hallway, I have to accept I’m lost. I’ve toured this place once on a high school trip, but we were never in this section.

The labyrinthine prison has swallowed me whole, and I have no idea how to find my way out. Despair threatens to overwhelm me, but I push it down. I can’t give up when there are four tiny lives depending on me. I cup my stomach. “We’re going to get out of here,” I whisper, as much to reassure myself as the babies I’m carrying. “Somehow.”

I force myself to keep moving, ignoring the burning in my legs and the dryness in my throat. Every shadow makes me flinch, while every distant sound makes my heartbeat skitter. I press on, clinging to the hope that the next turn, or the next corridor, will lead me to freedom.

All too soon, I realize I’m being tracked. Gavriil’s voice booms through the decaying halls, and each word drips with malice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, little mouse.”

My palms are damp when I press myself into a shadowy alcove. The rough stone scrapes my back through my thin shirt while I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my ragged breathing.

“You can’t hide forever,” he calls, his heavy footsteps coming closer. “When I find you, I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born.”

I squeeze my eyelids shut, willing myself to become invisible. My legs tremble, muscles screaming from the constant running and hiding. How long have I been trapped in this labyrinth of crumbling concrete and rusted metal? Hours? Days? Time has lost all meaning.

A rat scurries across my foot, and I bite back a scream. The creature pauses, beady eyes glinting in the dim light before it disappears into a crack in the wall. If only I could follow it to freedom.

Gavriil’s footsteps stop abruptly. “I know you’re close. I can smell your perfume, and your fear.”

I brush my fingers against my stomach in a protective gesture for the tiny lives growing inside me. The thought of my unborn children gives me a surge of determination. I have to survive this. For them.

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