Page 17 of Love Bleeds Red
His retreating footsteps echo against the wooden floor, each one giving me the slightest sense of relief. He opens the door and lingers at the threshold while I suck in deep breaths of stale air. “Yuri! Get in here.”
I’m trembling now, clinging to the oversized white T-shirt they gave me so they could dispose of my bloody dress. Yuri hasn’t hurt me… yet. But his stare follows me every time King isn’t looking, calculating eyes that give me no hint of what he’s thinking. If King were to leave the house for good, I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to hurt me.
Heavy footsteps pound up the stairs, and Yuri appears, huffing from the exertion. “King?” he asks stiffly, craning his neck past King into the bedroom where I haven’t moved a muscle.
“Bring her a meal and then let her get cleaned up for later.” King’s voice is casual, friendly even, but I repeat his words in my mind.
For later?
Yuri nods, and King pushes past him into the shadowy hallway. “Who else is ready for tonight? We need three.”
Yuri pulls a hand through his dark greasy hair, leaning against the doorframe. “Any of them would do, but maybe you should pay a visit to the mouthy one.”
Oh God, I know they’re talking about Cat—fierce, defiant Cat who still fights back despite being in this situation for far longer than me. Cat, who whispers to us about escaping. Panic squeezes my lungs.
King laughs low and plants a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “You’re right. If tonight goes well, I think you’re due for a reward too.” He glances back at me. “Something for your hard work.”
Acid churns in my empty gut as Yuri’s gaze meets mine. I can’t read the expression in them, it’s too dark, but I know there’s nothing kind in his eyes. “You’re too generous, boss.”
King pulls out a money clip, thick with bills, from his pocket and shoves it at Yuri. “Make sure they have the necessary clothing for tonight.”
Then he walks away, toward another one of the bedrooms, looking like an evil spirit. His shadow stretches long and narrow against the dull gold wallpaper. As his footsteps fade, I curl into myself, making my body as small as possible, trying to disappear even though I know there’s nowhere to hide.
“Follow me,” Yuri commands, emotionless.
I want to cover myself. Pull the tattered blanket off the bed and wrap my shoulders in its warmth. But Yuri starts walking and I know if I don’t follow, I won’t eat today.
He leads me downstairs into the kitchen. I’ve only been in here once, and briefly enough that I didn’t take in the sterile cleanliness of it, completely opposite of how I’d imagine a kitchen in this situation would be. There’s two guys sitting at the table, one typing on his phone and the other eyeing Yuri carefully.
“Out,” Yuri tells them. No explanation. No hint of his mood. They obey immediately, glancing at me with wide eyes before heading into the back of the house.
He gestures to a chair and wordlessly walks to the fridge, taking out a loaf of bread and some plastic-wrapped cold cuts. I sit but feel unnerved from his silence. With King, there’s no guesswork. No reading his mood. I know what I’m getting when he steps into the room. But not with Yuri. He’s never outright hurt me. Never raised his voice. It’s the stoic way he stares… the way he makes me want to know what he’s thinking.
He drops the sandwich in front of me on a paper plate and my stomach groans. For a moment, I just look at it, afraid to move. Until he mutters something under his breath in Russian, and says, “Eat.” I take a bite and swallow so quickly, I nearly choke.
The whole time I eat, I feel his eyes on me. Eventually, he turns, filling a glass with water from the tap and pushing it infront of me. I gulp it down, and he refills it. Drips slide down my chin.
His phone rings, so I take the opportunity of him being distracted to search around the room. Old windows with thick drapes close off the outside world. There must be another exit besides the front door. Maybe if I can get Yuri on my side, get him to sympathize with me, I can find a way out.
I take another sip of water as he finishes his call. “Done?” he asks.
I nod slowly. “Thank you.”
He scoffs and turns toward the hallway. “Upstairs now.”
“Really,” I say, forcing cheeriness into my tone. “That was the best sandwich I’ve ever had.” Starvation will make anything taste incredible. He stays quiet, so I chance a question. “Where are we going tonight?”
The only sound is his booted footsteps on the hardwood floor and the long sigh escaping his lips.
I take slow measured steps behind him, hoping to stretch time. As we reach the staircase, cries from one of the other women echo against the walls. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear I see Yuri flinch.
Adrenaline pounds through my blood, and that urge to run, to hide, pulls at me with ferocity. Out of instinct, I step closer to Yuri—just for a moment before I realize he’s one of them and recoil.
“Let’s go,” he mumbles, barely glancing back at me.
“Sorry.” I sweeten my tone. “I’m just so afraid.”
It’s not a lie. My legs are barely holding me up, and after hearing that soul wrenching wail, the sandwich churns in my gut.
