Page 15 of A Pawn in the Game
My arms are still wrapped around my knees in a desperate attempt to protect myself. The man infuriates me.
One minute, he looks like he’ll strangle me on the spot. The other, he seems almost protective of me. He wears his rage like a badge of honor for everyone to see. A part of me admires it.
I’ve kept my emotions locked so tight; I barely know how to get angry anymore. Or sad. If I were to allow myself either of those, I’d drown. The dams would burst, flooding my insides until I wouldn’t be able to breathe. Until the water would rise to my ankles, then to my knees, slowing me down before stopping me fully.
I’ve already felt more emotion in the few days I was here than in the last ten years of my life. That won’t do. If I plan to survive this, I need to get a grip. I need my mind occupied twenty-four seven if I want a chance to keep the flood at bay.
My gaze lands on the freshly cleaned chess set.
And I know just how to do that.
“Do you play chess?” I ask the guard, making his brows furrow.
A knock sounds at the door before he’s able to answer. He opens, not letting me see who it is, but brings in another food container.
My eyes widen at the ‘vegan’ sticker on top. I practically levitate off the bed to grab the container from the guard’s hands.
“Thank you,” I say, with a smile, my throat closing.
I know the statistics and the research. But I’m not sure I could have gone the full three weeks without food before caving in.
The meal is a gorgeous breakfast bowl, with roasted sweet potatoes, avocado, green onions and beans. Saliva pools in my mouth as the scent penetrates my nostrils. The first bite tastes like the best meal I ever had. I know it’s my hungry mind playing tricks on me, but it doesn’t matter. My stomach growls, urging me to eat faster, but I have enough peace of mind to know better. No matter how good it tastes, I need to take it slow. No matter how much I want to devour it whole, I need to keep control, unless I want to spend the rest of the day in stomach pain.
I eat a third of the portion and, with a heavy heart, set it aside. My knee bounces as I stare at the rest of the meal. I need to do something else.
So I try again.
“Do you play chess?”
CHAPTER 10
Luka
Marko
She’s eating.
Arelieved breath escapes me reading his text. It’s not that I cared whether she ate or not, but this is better for our mission.
What a stubborn little girl.
Sticking to her values. I’ve seen men lick food off the floor to escape hunger. I’ve seen men eat each other’s severed dicks trying to beg for mercy. No value is important enough when you’re facing death. But not her.
Maybe I’ve underestimated her before. Maybe there’s more hiding beneath the boring exterior.
My phone pings with another text and I grab my leather jacket, popping my gun into my pants, before heading outside.
I slam the door, entering the Range Rover, with Ivan waiting for me in the driver’s seat. I’m used to seeing his blackout neck tattoo but it’s an unnerving sight for random passerby. His thick beard and disheveled hair don’t help, either.
“Any news?” I ask my right-hand man. He’s been working with me for almost ten years, and I trust him with my life.
“It should be safe.” He shrugs his wide shoulders under the worn leather jacket.
We caught wind of Russians planning to intercept our deliveries, meaning that each one could be a setup.
It was what happened to our father.
They intercepted a huge delivery, one that had to be made by the boss himself. They left all the money, all the product. And all the dead bodies.
