Page 10 of Forced Bratva Bride

I nodded. “Make it a different model, a different color.”

“Certainly, Boss,” he nodded, and walked out.

Chapter 4 - Larissa

I sat with my back against the wall, staring at the floor, frozen in time. It could have been minutes, or maybe even hours; I couldn’t care to count down the seconds because even breathing was a concentrated effort to avoid falling apart.

It was dark in the basement cell that felt more like a dungeon. Not that I’d ever seen a dungeon, but then again, I’d never seen a prison cell before, either.

The precariousness of my situation wasn’t lost on me. I had been taken from the middle of a busy street and brought to what was clearly a madman’s house, and no one knew where I was. My vision tunneled in on a mark on the floor as I tried to note its pattern and color, imagining how it had gotten there. This focus was to keep me sane; if I didn’t do that, the nervous pain crushing my chest would have escalated into a full-fledged panic attack.

I named five things in the cell and took some breaths. I tried to note five sounds. I heard the buzz from a flickering lone bulb somewhere in the distance, the sound of an overhead fan, and that was that. No other noises, no voices, no footsteps overhead.

It was utterly lonely.

I couldn’t name five sounds, and the panic from that revelation reached for my fingers, causing them to tingle. I stood, finding I might be going insane, and shook my legs and hands to rid myself of the wretched sensation of pins and needles.

Sitting there wasn’t helping in any way whatsoever. If I wanted out, I’d have to fight for it, and while doing so, it was important for me to keep my wits around.

I had already tried to scream and yell, even after my captor had left. I had pounded against the metal bars, pulled and clanged them hard enough to know the sound must have reached upstairs, and yet no one paid me any heed. I had mapped my hands inch by inch across the cement walls, feeling for a crack, a concealed door,something, anythingbut found nothing. I had then looked upward, hoping to find an exhaust or a vent to crack open and crawl out from, but the walls gave no hope for escape. There wasn’t even a window in sight, let alone a vent.

I walked through my small cell once more and reached the same conclusion. There were no exits. Frustrated, I decided to try something different. I was about to remove the sheets from my bed, which was more than necessary for what was essentially a camping cot, when I heard the basement door open.

Plans abandoned, I rushed to the bars and clung to them, peering out toward the stairs to see who was coming. Maybe I could find a way out through the power of persuasion.

A guard walked up to my cell with a tray in his hand. I stepped aside with a racing heart to stand behind where he would open the door to my cell. He would have to open the door to give me my food, wouldn’t he? And when he did, I could push past him and escape, locking him up in here instead.

But to my shock, he accessed a food slot, the smallest bars popping open to create enough space near the floor for him to bend down and slide the tray over to me. I watched, harrowed and disappointed, as the doors to my cell never opened.

“Eat,” he said in a robotic, monotone voice and began to walk away.

“No, please,” I begged, grabbing the cells. “Listen. Just…listen.”

He paused momentarily, but never turned to face me. This was my chance, I knew, to have a chance at freedom.

“I’ve been taken for something I never did,” I tried to coax him. “I don’t belong here.”

I saw his spine straighten, but he never turned to face me. He took one step forward.

“My brothers,” I said, with more urgency now. “They’ll do anything to have me by their side.Anything.You’d be handsomely paid for returning me to them. Please, take me to them.”

With bated breath, I waited for his response, my heart thudding in my chest as the silence stretched between us. But just as I was about to speak again, the guard stiffened and turned to me.

“Eat,” he said, one more time, shaking his head to my request, before he turned back and retreated up those steps again.

I pressed myself against the wall and fell to the ground, curling my arms around my stomach. For the first time in hours, I cried. The crying lulled me into a calm that once again brought me courage.

After half an hour or so, I got off the floor and walked over the plate of food. In a fit of rage, I kicked it away, watching as the food splattered all over the place.

There’s no way in hell I was eating a thing they gave me. For all I knew, it could have been poisoned. Besides, I thought to myself, someone would have to clean this mess up, and when they came to do that, I’d try to make a run for it.

But, until then, I didn’t stop fighting. I had tried almost every avenue for escape and would continue to do so. Any guard that came, I’d plead for their help. Any food that came, I would avoid. In the meantime, I had to keep trying.

Out of ideas, I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, and then, there, I felt it. The pins in my hair I’d forgotten about.

An idea dawned.

I quickly pulled out a small bobby pin and carefully inspected it in my hand. This small, seemingly insignificant object was now my only hope.

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