Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

4

“Life - the way it really is- is not a battle between bad and good, but bad and worse.” - Joseph Brodsky

We drive over night and eventually I fall asleep. When I wake up, the night sky is turning to gray. The radio is turned down low and Nicholai taps his fingers on the steering wheel, humming along with the song. I focus my gaze out the window, shivering just at the sight of the snow clinging to the ground. I wrap my arms around myself, snuggling into the enormous suit jacket that hangs from my shoulders.

We drive down a long deserted road, lined with trees that give way to the forest. Their branches slump heavily under the weight of the snow, which glows in the darkness, reflecting the moonlight. It looks enchanting and scary, yet somehow peaceful. Eventually we pull up to a tall gate, set into a chain link metal fence, topped with razor wire. I can’t see what’s on the other side as a flurry of snow crosses the path of the headlights. A single guard with a rifle approaches the window. He looks freezing, huddling into his puffy jacket as a stream of misted breath leaves his lips. Nicholai rolls the window down and a flurry of bitter cold air rushes in, making me shiver. He barely glances at Nicholai before running to get the gate like a frightened mouse.

“Who are you?” I ask so quietly I’m not sure if he really heard me.

He tilts his face towards me and a small smile touches his lips. “I’m Nicholai Ivanov.”

“What do you do?” I rephrase.

He sighs. “I do lots of things, little dove. You will learn all about it very soon. You’re going to work for me.”

I swallow nervously and the car pulls forward again. “Doing what?” I whisper.

“I’m not sure yet, but train hard, fight as if your life depends on it and maybe you’ll become everything you could possibly dream of.” He smiles. The car stops and I finally tear my gaze from his gray eyes. My door opens from the outside and a man in gray, blue and white military uniform stands on the other side, waiting for me. I shoot a worried glance back to Nicholai. “I will be back for you very soon, little dove. Remember what I said. Fight.” The soldier grabs my arm and pulls me from the car. I want to cry at the freezing cold air biting at my cheeks. The door slams shut behind me and the engine revs before it pulls away, wheels spinning and spraying snow everywhere. I’m alone, miles from my sister and once again terrified of the unknown situation I’m about to walk into.

“Move.” The soldier thrusts the barrel of his gun into my back and I fall forwards a step, scrambling to get away from him. The building in front of me looks like some kind of military base, like a hangar of sorts, buried amongst the snow as though it’s a part of the landscape. It’s well hidden and apparently guarded. Where the hell am I?

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Another concrete room, another prison. Nicholai never came back. There are no windows in here and I have no idea if it’s night or day. My captors bring me food three times a day, and that’s my only measure of time passing, my only form of routine, but I’m starting to think that’s unreliable. Sometimes it feels as though the meals are only five minutes apart. I think I’ve been here for ten days. I think. They leave the lights on all the time, which makes it difficult to sleep, and when I do fall asleep, they wake me up. They shout at me for no reason and tell me they’re going to kill me. Sometimes they simply drop food inside the door and leave, others they come in and beat me for no reason.

I’m tired and confused, and my entire body aches. I just want it all to end. I live in this constant state of apprehension, trying to guess what’s coming next, but whatever I think they’re going to do, it’s always wrong. Why would Nicholai do this to me? He betrayed me. I trusted him. That was my mistake. Trust. Why would he bring me here? But then, why wouldn’t he? If there is one thing I’ve learned in my short life it’s that people are inherently evil. They want to hurt others, and they want you to be weak and vulnerable so you’re that much easier to prey on. I wish I could say that I was strong, and in the orphanage I was. For Anna. This is different. The matron couldn’t kill me. These people can and they will. I see it in their eyes. I find myself becoming paranoid, waiting for the day that they open that door, put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.

I jump when the door clicks open. The same guy as always steps inside with a tray of food.

“Please.” I beg him. “I can’t take any more.” I’ve resorted to this, to begging. Even if they kill me, it has to be better than this, than the torture. I fear death but I fear this more, this unending cycle, the waiting, the not knowing. And what if they never let me go? What if I’m to just stay here, enduring this forever? What if it gets worse and they try to rape me like Erik was going to? Did Nicholai pluck me from one hell only to thrust me into a worse one. At least Erik spoke to me. These men don’t. And you don’t realise how much you crave human interaction until it’s gone, until you spend days with only your own thoughts for company.

The guy places the tray on the floor by the door and walks out without speaking a word. I’m ready to scream, to bash my head against the wall, anything, anything but another minute in this place. I don’t know how long passes but the door opens again. I remain on the bed, staring at the ceiling. There’s no point in trying to talk to him, because he never talks back. I learnt that quickly.

“Little dove?” I turn my head at the sound of the voice, convinced that my ears are deceiving me. “I am sorry I could not come sooner.”

Tears prickle my eyes and I sniff them back as I sit up on the bed. He smiles warmly at me, but I don’t move. I can’t. It’s a trick. I’m sure of it. I place my back to the wall and tuck my legs up.

“Come now, don’t be like that.” He coos.

“You left me.” I say in a hurry.

Still he smiles. “Unavoidable I’m afraid. But I’m back now.” He moves into the room, coming closer. I don’t know him, and he brought me here, he put me in this concrete box…but I haven’t spoken to anyone in so long …

“They hurt me.” I say hoarsely.

“I’m sorry.” He takes a seat on the bed next to me. “I’m here now. I missed you.” He strokes my dirty tangled hair back away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you, little dove.” He cups my face in both hands, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks that feel permanently damp from tears that never seem to stop falling. For the first time in what feels like weeks, I feel safe, and I know Nicholai is the only person I can trust. The only one. He cares for me when no one else does. He’ll protect me. I throw my arms around his neck and he pulls me close. I inhale the scent of cigarette smoke and although I should hate it because of the matron, I don’t. It reminds me of him, of his jacket. It reminds me that he saved me. “My dangerous little dove.” He coos. I cling to him and he simply holds me, making me feel protected. I haven’t felt protected since my parents died. “Are you ready?” He asks.

“For what?”

He pushes me back and looks at my face. “To become strong.”