Page 59 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
It’s not every day you see a ruthless monster smile like a human, cook like one, and make you feel special.
That was how I felt in that moment: special. He went out of his way to make breakfast and still returned my camera, a gift that warmed my heart and almost brought tears to my eyes.
Val was indeed trying to make amends; that was a fact that I couldn’t ignore. He seemed like an entirely different person now, a better version of the man he used to be. He smiled more often, not too wide but authentic enough to lure me in.
***
After breakfast that morning, I stood by the window, watching him get all handy outside. Beneath the canopy of trees, he set a log on the chopping block, holding an ax firmly in his right hand.
Seconds later, the ax came down in a clean, heavy arc, and the strike split the wood with a crack that echoed through the clearing. He repeated the process with other logs, splitting wood with expert precision over and over again.
He’d been doing that for about an hour now, and from the inside the house, I was busy with my camera. I took photosof him doing the hard work, my camera lens capturing the moment: the strained muscles, the splitting of wood, and the swinging of the ax.
He stole a glance in my direction and paused, his eyes meeting mine. I beamed a smile, slightly waving at him as if to say,Well done.
He didn’t wave back, just nodded once and returned to chopping wood.
Bored out of my mind, I stepped out of the house to take pictures of Mother Nature for my outdoor collection. The smell of damp earth and pine filled the air as I descended the short steps at the entrance.
“What’re you doing?” He stopped working and faced me.
“Relax,” I said, walking along the gravel path that wound away from the porch. “I just wanna take this for a spin.” I raised the camera, giving it a little wave.
“Don’t wander too far.”
“Yeah, yeah. Got it, Grandpa,” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows at him.
I knew he hated it when I called him that, and I liked to taunt him with it.
“Be careful. There are snakes in the trees,” he said, and went back to work.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not climbing one.”
As promised, I didn’t wander off—in fact, I stayed within his sight. Besides, there was enough nature to capture around there anyway. So why go too far?
I started with the little things—drops of water caught in the veins of fallen leaves and patches of moss clinging to damp stone. It felt really good doing this again, and I felt so alive.
The bushes rustled, and my eyes fell on a nearby squirrel darting across the path. It paused, its tiny hands gripping a nut as it stared right at me.
“Hey, buddy,” I whispered, capturing it mid-pose.
I took three photos of it before it scurried off into the bushes. I straightened, studying the images I’d taken so far, when a twig snapped beneath a boot and I heard his voice.
“Hey, shutterbug,” he called from behind.
I turned around, eyes still on the camera. “Val, you need to check out these photos.” I chuckled.
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice calm but also hinting at an immediate danger.
“What?” I raised my head, alarmed.
“Don’t move,” he repeated, drawing closer, his eyes fixed on whatever was at my back.
“Oh, my God, is there something behind me?” I panicked, my heart racing in my chest.
“Relax,” he said. “Don’t move and you’ll be fine.” He halted in front of me. “You might wanna close your eyes,” his voice dropped to a whisper.
I didn’t think twice before slamming my eyes shut. And then, something slithered against the air beside my ear, and every hair on my body rose at the slick, guttural hiss.
