Page 75 of High Stakes

“Leone should have taken the deal,” Mikhail continues, his voice eerily calm. “I would have been willing to negotiate, to leave the past in the past. But now? Now, it seems history is repeating itself. Leone took from me, and now I’m going to take everything from him.”

With that, Mikhail releases his hold on me, letting me fall to the ground. I gasp for air, my heart racing.

Mikhail looms over me once more, his shadow falling over my trembling form. “Leone will learn the consequences of his actions, Fallon. And you will be the one to deliver that message.”

He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine as he gestures to his men. “Take her inside,” he orders coldly. “Make sure she’s… comfortable. We have a lot of work to do.”

As the men move forward, grabbing me by the arms and hauling me to my feet, I realize with a sickening dread there’s no escape from this nightmare. I’m trapped at the mercy of a man hell-bent on destroying everything Leone holds dear.

As I struggle in the men’s grip, trying to process Mikhail’s chilling words, the door to the mansion swings open. I hear footsteps, light and hurried before I see her—Rebecca. My mother. She rushes out, her face a mask of horror as she takes in what’s going on.

“Fallon?” she breathes, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes wide with disbelief as they lock onto mine. She stumbles forward, her hands trembling as they rise to cover her mouth, her expression a mixture of shock and dread. The color drains from her face as she realizes where I am, who I am with, and what that means.

Mikhail notices her approach, and his gaze hardens. “Rebecca, go inside,” he commands, his voice cold and dismissive.

But she doesn’t move. Instead, she steps closer, her eyes darting between Mikhail and me. “That’s Leone’s wife,” she says, her voice trembling with fear and confusion. “Why is she here, Mikhail? What are you planning to do?”

Mikhail’s eyes narrow dangerously, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. “I said, go inside,” he repeats, his tone now edged with a dark warning.

Rebecca hesitates, her eyes pleading as she takes another step forward. “Please, Mikhail,” she implores, her voice breaking slightly. “This is not right. She is just a young girl?—”

Her words are cut off as Mikhail suddenly backhands her, the sound of the slap echoing through the still air. Rebecca staggers backward, her hand flying to her cheek as she gasps in pain and shock. Her eyes brim with tears as she stares up at Mikhail, her entire body trembling.

“You do not question me,” Mikhail growls, his voice a low snarl as he looms over her. “Get inside. Now.”

Rebecca’s gaze flickers to mine, a silent apology in her tear-filled eyes, then she quickly turns and hurries back into the mansion, clutching her injured cheek. She disappears behind the heavy door, the sound of it closing echoes like the final nail in a coffin.

I’m left on the ground, my heart pounding in my chest as Mikhail turns his attention back to me. The cruel smile returns to his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watches me struggle to hold back my fear.

Twenty-Five

Mikhail’s cruel smile lingers for a second, hanging over me like a storm cloud ready to break. His gaze sweeps over me one last time, savoring the fear etched across my face. He doesn’t need to say anything more—his silence is just as terrifying.

Two of his men grab me by the arms again, yanking me to my feet. My legs feel like they’re made of lead, but I force myself to walk, to move with some semblance of dignity as they drag me toward the mansion.

The door slams shut behind us, the echo reverberating through the empty halls, and the air grows colder, heavier, as they pull me down a narrow staircase. The descent feels endless, each step taking me further from the light, from any hope of escape.

Finally, we reach the bottom, and the men throw open a heavy door. The darkness beyond it is thick and oppressive, like a living thing waiting to devour me. I’m shoved inside, stumbling forward as they release me. My knees hit the cold, damp stone floor, the impact jarring through my bones.

The door slams shut behind me with a deafening clang, and I’m plunged into darkness so complete it feels like I’ve been swallowed by the night itself. The silence presses in, broken only by the faint sound of my own ragged breathing.

I push myself up, my hands trembling as they press against the unforgiving floor. The cold seeps into my skin, making me shiver uncontrollably. My eyes strain to adjust to the darkness, but there’s nothing to see—no light, no way out.

For what feels like an eternity, I sit there, alone in the dark, the weight of my situation crashing down on me. The minutes stretch into hours, and I lose all sense of time. Hunger gnaws at my insides, a dull ache that grows sharper with each passing moment. My throat is dry, my lips cracked, but there’s no relief here. Only the endless cold and the suffocating darkness.

After the first couple of days, time loses all meaning. The days blur together, each one a repeat of the last. The only sign of life is the occasional tray of food slid through a small slot in the door—barely enough to keep me alive.

At night, when the cold becomes unbearable, and my stomach feels like it’s eating itself from the inside out, I sing. It’s the only thing that keeps me from losing myself in the dark, the only way to drown out the silence that threatens to drive me mad. Just like Grandma would drive me crazy, taunting me through the closed door.

“In the dark where shadows creep,

Little firefly takes her leap,

Wings aglow, she dances light,

Unaware of the spider’s sight.”

My voice is soft trembling, but it’s all I have. The words echo off the stone walls, filling the empty space with a haunting melody. It’s a song from my childhood, a rhyme my father used to sing to me when we played in the dark.

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