Page 7 of Capturing Victory

He shrugged. “Actually, I rarely ask about a woman’s family and if I do, I couldn’t care less about the answer. With you, I do care. So, please indulge me, if you don’t want to find out where my patience ends.”

She sat in her chair breathing heavily for a moment, clearly struggling with her need to defy him. Eventually self-preservation won out. Staring stonily past him she said in a flat voice, “They were killed in an embassy bombing. The few people that survived the bombing were killed when gunmen went in after and… and took the building. There were no hostages left alive.”

He nodded, not surprised. He thought it unlikely that she would have living family given the way she’d survived and lived the past several years. “How many of your family were killed?” he asked. “How were you spared?”

She didn’t bother withholding the information now that he’d gotten what he wanted from her. She continued to stare past him as she spoke, her fork held stiffly in her hand as though she’d like nothing better than to stab him with it. “Most of my family died in the bomb – mom, dad, two brothers and a sister.” There was no inflection in her voice as she spoke, though he suspected her inner turmoil was intense. “I was at a hotel with my grandma. She was sick and my mom wanted me to stay behind and take care of her. I w-was annoyed because I wanted to go with them. I thought the embassy would be somehow exciting.”

He didn’t think she’d meant to divulge how she’d felt. Survivor’s guilt. She thought she should’ve died with the rest of them. Up until that point he’d listened to her with his usual dispassion. Then she turned those dark eyes on him, that velvet brown gaze that looked right through him and she said, “My grandma died of a massive heart attack that night, only hours after we found out about the bombing. She couldn’t handle the thought of losing her only son and three of her grandbabies. So, she left me alone in the world.”

A piercing shaft went through his chest and his fist clenched against the table as he imagined her pain. Glass shattered behind him. The servant dropped something on his way back to the table. Jaya jumped, her gaze flying past Ivan’s shoulder. Ivan didn’t bother turning to look. He knew what’d happened. The man had been listening to her, watching her. She’d touched him with her pathetic story, just as she’d somehow touched Ivan.

“How old were you?” he asked, his voice cool.

“Twelve,” she answered picking at her food.

“Impossible,” Ivan snapped. “You can’t have been that young. Who took care of you?”

She shrugged. “No one. I took care of myself.”

“How is this possible?” he asked, staring at her. “You were practically a baby. You weren’t taken in by family or friends? You just… what? Wandered the streets of Mumbai until you grew up and became a hacker? No, I do not believe this, Jaya. Tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth!” she snapped. “I had no more family left, or none that I could get in touch with. But I was self-sufficient. I’m a genius, Ivan. I didn’t justbecomea hacker as you call it, I was always gifted this way. I look at technology and I just know how it works. I’ve always been that way.” She stared at him, her expression a cauldron of emotion. “What about you, Ivan? Did you just become this way overnight? Or were you born with a gun in your hand? I think something shaped you to become this way. What was it… what’s your accent, Ivan? Bosnian? Croatian? What, you don’t like talking about it?”

He stiffened, anger finally overriding the desire and curiosity he’d been feeling toward his dinner guest. He stared back at her, his icy expression the only warning he gave for her to stop speaking. She didn’t heed him.

“If I had to guess again I would say you were shaped into this soulless monster through war,” she continued, charging forward, heedless of the boundaries she smashed through. The servant who’d become instantly smitten with the pretty hacker wasn’t heedless though. He stood next to Ivan, his mouth open in horror, obviously terrified for her as she ploughed recklessly on. “What happened, Ivan? Did your neighbours murder all of your people and now you take your revenge on others as a way to control the world around you because you couldn’t control your childhood. Is that what happened?”

Ivan picked up his wineglass and took a sip, the only emotion visible was the slight tremble through the stem. He set it carefully down and asked, “Where did you find this information?” She couldn’t possibly have guessed. She must have come across it somewhere else.

She closed her mouth and stared at him, her face paling slightly as she realized exactly how far she’d just gone. What she’d just said to a notoriously vicious international arms dealer. He stood slowly, unfolding his tall body from the chair and then straightening the sleeves of his dress shirt before making his way around the table toward her. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in fear as he approached.

“Talk, now,” he demanded.

The servant hovered behind Ivan as though he could somehow save Jaya from Ivan’s wrath. In a move so swift that the servant didn’t see it coming, Ivan picked up a carving knife from the table, grabbed the other man by the jacket, slammed him against the table and sank the blade deep in his neck, slicing right through in one quick motion. He made sure to sever the carotid artery so the man would bleed out quickly and save them unnecessary screaming.

Jaya stared down at the man’s face, which was less than two feet away from her dinner plate. Blood poured from his neck and soaked into the white tablecloth while he flailed helplessly against the side of the table. Ivan watched Jaya during the entire episode, judging her capacity to handle this side of him. Her face had drained of colour and she looked as though she was about to either vomit or faint. As the servant ceased struggling, his body growing limp against the side of the table, Ivan tossed him away and dropped the knife back on the table. He stepped toward Jaya.

She stood abruptly and tried to back away from him, stumbling into her chair, terror creasing her features.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

She froze, her breaths coming out in whimpers. She bowed her head and refused to look at him as he stepped up to her. He tilted her chin and stared down into her face. Even frightened, she was so fucking beautiful it made his black heart ache. This evening might have ended in disaster, but there would be others. He’d ensured it by caging her in an impenetrable fortress.

He leaned down, bending his neck to adjust for his height and pressed his lips against her trembling mouth in a chaste kiss. “Sleep well, my Victory.” He turned and strode away leaving her to the care of her bodyguard.

Chapter Six

The bodyguard left Jaya just inside her room, closing the door behind him and locking her inside. Never in her life had she felt so frightened, so lonely. Even after the bombing she’d been surrounded by well-meaning people. Now she was left completely alone, isolated and helpless in the clutches of a remorseless killer.

“Oh god,” she moaned and grabbed her head, shaking it as though she could get the horrific image of the dead man out of her head. Besides her grandmother, she’d never seen a dead person up close before, let alone someone killed so horrifically.

She could barely catch her breath, her chest was squeezing itself tighter and tighter. And her limbs were shaking, about to collapse. She rushed to the bed and climbed on top, wrapping herself in the blankets. Once she started to warm up, once her shivering was under control, the crying started. She pulled a fluffy pillow into her cocoon and hugged it against herself while she sobbed out her fear and panic.

As the storm of tears subsided and the hours passed, it became clear that she was going to be left alone in her prison to contemplate what had happened. She pushed the panic away, took a shower in the pristine washroom, in the dark, and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Then she put her powerful mind to good use. After all, she no longer had access to the things she was used to having around to keep herself occupied.

If Ivan wanted to go to war with XSource, then he would find her a capable opponent, even without her toys. “Time to wake up and fight back,” she told herself as an image of the dead man’s face flashed through her brain. She didn’t want to end up like him when Ivan’s use for her ended. Or when she tried his patience one too many times.

The next few days became an exercise in gathering intel. Jaya was used to having technology at her fingertips at all times. She had to practice patience, attempt to control her emotions and reroute her impulses so she could take in more than she was giving away each time she was taken from her cell. Twice more Ivan insisted she dine with him. At first Jaya had sat, stiffly terrified that there would be a repeat of their first evening. However, Ivan had been on his best behaviour, simply sharing a meal with her.

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