Chapter 2

(Flashback)

Anastasia scoffed as she deftly folded Ivan’s rumpled clothes and placed them inside the mahogany closet. “I don’t need a grandiose wedding, Ivan,” she remarked, her eyes rolling at his dishevelled room. “And how do you manage to make such a mess all the time? Don’t tell me you’re too busy to at least make your bed.”

Ivan chuckled, sneaking up behind her and enveloping her in his embrace, planting a gentle kiss beneath her ear. “I don’t care about the wedding, my love. I just want you as my wife so I can make love to you for hours on end.”

Anastasia blushed at his bold words, but she relished in his possessive touch, content to let him hold her tight. “And what about what I want?” she countered, teasingly. “What if I don’t like you hovering over me like a bee all the time? What if I want you to focus on your work and leave me be?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk. With a sudden movement, he pinned her against the wall, his lips finding the soft, delicate skin of her neck. “Oh, darling,” he breathed, his voice laced with desire. “Once you experience my touch, you won’t want to leave the bed until I’ve had my fill of you.”

(Flashback Ends)

* * *

[IVAN]

As I enter the claustrophobic space, the damp walls closing in on me, the pungent odor of sweat and fear hits me like a wave. I hear the man’s labored breathing and the rattle of chains as he struggles against his restraints.

The flickering light casts eerie shadows across his face, making his features appear distorted and menacing. I fix him with a cold stare, knowing that he is just a pawn in my game of power. But for now, he is the only lead I have. I take a step forward, ready to do whatever it takes to get the information I need.

As I walk towards the man, I notice the thick ropes that bind his hands and feet to the chair. His eyes flit around the dimly-lit room, scanning for any means of escape. His thin frame is wracked with tremors, his ragged breathing betraying his anxiety.

Drawing closer, I see the beads of sweat on his forehead and the tremble in his voice as he speaks. His beady eyes dart towards me, revealing his fear of the unknown.

Leaning in, I speak in a low, menacing tone that echoes through the empty room. “Tell me, where are they hiding?”

The man’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammers, making me roll my eyes.

My hand shoots out and clutches his shirt collar tightly, yanking him towards me until our noses nearly touch. His eyes bulge in fear. The acrid scent of sweat and fear wafts from his trembling body and stings my nostrils.

With a swift motion, I snatch a pair of pliers from the nearby table. The shiny, metallic tool glitters malevolently under the dim light, casting long, sinister shadows across the room. I hold them up in front of his face, allowing the sharp edges to catch the light.

I growl in his face. “Do you take me for a fucking fool? You know something, and you’re going to tell me, this way or that.”

My eyes bore into his, daring him to resist. He doesn’t dare and swallows instead.

“Speak up,” I warn him one last time, my patience wearing thin. “Or I’ll make you wish you had never been born, believe me.”

The man’s face contorts in a mix of agony and terror. Beads of sweat form on his forehead, trickling down his face like tiny rivulets. “I—I think you got the wrong man,” he looks around, probably wondering if someone would believe him. “I’m just a com—common man. I would never do anything to screw up with people like you.”

That’s it. I’ve run out of my damn patience. I toss the pliers away and take out my gun instead. I want this man dead.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he prattles, crying. “I’ll tell you…whatever I can. Please don’t hurt me. Please.”

I lean back slightly and push the mouth of the gun right in the middle of his eyes. “Good. Let’s start with your name.”

The man hesitates, his eyes flickering nervously. “It’s… it’s Sergei.”

“Okay, Sergei,” I say, nodding slowly. “Now, tell me everything you know about Anastasia. Where the hell is she?”

Sergei licks his lips, his eyes darting around the room again. “I… I don’t know,” he stammers. But when I curl my finger around the trigger his face pales. “I mean, I don’t know much. I swear. I barely had a word with her. She wasn’t the most talkative person around. Mostly kept to herself.”

Of course, she did. She wouldn’t have made it this long hiding from me if she hadn’t been too damn careful. “Then tell me whatever you know.”

“That’s all I can tell you. My wife tried to befriend her, even inviting her and her kids to my son’s birthday party, but they never showed up. She always had an excuse ready. Please, now let me go. I told you everything I know.”

“Not everything apparently,” I trace the gun down his cheek before jabbing at his throat with it. “Don’t waste my time, Sergei. I would hate to kill a good man like you. Despite the common belief, I don’t actually enjoy the gore anymore than it’s absolutely necessary. And nothing pisses me off more than a man who doesn’t value my time.”

Sergei’s pupils dilate with horror, making them appear like black holes in his wide-open eyes. His breaths become ragged, and he stumbles over his words as he frantically tries to appease me. “No. Please. No. I’ll—I’ll do anything you want. Okay. Okay. There was something I overheard. It was two nights before they left my property. A man came to see her, kept talking about a cabin in the woods. Somewhere on the outskirts of the town. She called him Nik, I think? He was tall and had mean eyes.”

I take a moment to process the information.

Perhaps that’s all I’m about to get from him. If I grilled him anymore, he’ll surely piss in his pants, and that’s not the sight I’m looking forward to. “I believe you. Good work, Sergei. You just made your son real proud.”

With a flick of my hand that holds the gun, I signal my men to take the crying man away. He’s of no use to me anymore. Besides, he was right. He’s just a common man who has a lot more to lose than to give.

Climbing the stairs to the villa, I soak in the quiet that wraps around the place. A vast field of untouched snow spreads out as far as I can see, cutting me off from the world. The only sounds messing with the calm are the crunch of my boots on the frozen ground and the rustling of tree branches.

I climb into the back of my car, and as the door shuts behind me with a satisfying thud, I take a deep breath. My eyes latch onto the small patch of greenery where my beloved Anastasia had often basked in the sunshine. I whisper to the wind, “I’m coming for you, malysh. No more hiding. I’ll bring you home. The one place you truly belong.”