Page 42 of A Pawn in the Game
Sophie
Iwake up feeling both like I’ve slept for twenty hours and like I haven’t slept at all. Andre sits on the couch, playing on his phone, no Luka in sight.
I clear my throat, and his eyes lift to me. “Would you mind telling me what time it is?” I ask.
His eyebrows lower as he contemplates giving me an answer. Ultimately, he does. “It’s 9:45.”
My head jerks back with surprise. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept so long. I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I don’t think it could have been after midnight.
“Your breakfast is here.” He nods at the table with another food container on it.
“Thank you,” I say, realizing I’m starving.
I dig into the delicious tofu scramble, my mind ruminating on the memories from yesterday.
It was the third time in my life I had a gun pointed at my head. I would be worried about what that says about me, if I didn’t know who was responsible for each of those times.
Dad.
My guess, by what the Russian said, is that he made a deal toget me back. Or maybe he’s totallyinwith them now. When it comes to him, who knows.
More importantly for me, the Russians don’t care about keeping their end of the deal. They don’t care if I live or die in the process. Which was blatantly clear yesterday. When I almost died.
It all happened too fast, and the adrenaline made me half delirious, but if Luka hadn’t shielded me with his body to get me out to safety, who knew what would have happened?
Why the hell would he do that?
I know they sort of need me, but revenge can hardly be more important than his own life, can it?
If Dad taught me anything, it’s that intelligence means nothing. You can’t predict what a person will do, simply because they’re intelligent. Something else shapes our decisions. Our values.
And these men—the mafia guys, their values are vastly different to mine. Making them hard to read.
I drop the fork into the empty container, only to realize I’ve eaten the whole thing. I lived through another traumatic event while being held captive, and I managed to both sleep and eat.
A tiny flame of pride ignites in my chest.
I gather the food container and the bag, throwing them both in the trash before opening the chess set.
“Come,” I say to Andre, not bothering to look up. “Let’s play.”
His heavy footsteps lead him to the table, and he drops into the chair. The corners of my lips turn up. I know they’re my captors, but I feel like I got kind of friendly with a few of these guys.
I’ve never spent as much time socializing with other people as I have during the few weeks stuck here. Typically, the only person I’d talk to was Alex. She must be worried sick by now. She’s used to me not reaching out or answering calls when I’m deep in a project, but she also checks up on me to make sure I’m still alive. Breath catches in my throat as I realize she might think I’m dead.
If she’s worried, she likely flew back to check my place. If Alan was around, she must have seen him and taken him back in. I’m not typically a manifesting, or positive thinking person, but this…this thought is something I plan to hold on to.
She would be proud of me if she knew that I’m taking care of myself, considering the circumstances. If she heard I’m eating and sleeping well, she’d throw me a party. My teeth release my bottom lip as my expression finally relaxes.
“We playing or what?” Andre asks, and I realize I’ve been stuck in thought.
I push a pawn to E4, glancing up at him. “What did you say? What’s this piece called?”
“Pijun,” he says, enunciating slowly.
“Pijun,” I repeat.
CHAPTER 22
