Page 45 of Marked By His Touch
Finally, I unlock the phone and dial Katerina’s number, my thumb trembling against the screen. I hear the dial tone like a cruel echo. My heart beats as if it’s trying to escape the cage of my ribs.
There’s a sound, and someone is breathing on the other end.
“Katerina,” I whisper, barely audible above the ringing tone. “It’s Ava—They have us.”
I hear feet shuffling outside the door, a low sound that makes me tense up. They’re standing guard. They’re close. I feel beads of sweat forming on my face.
“Where are you?” Katerina hisses into the phone. I’ve never heard her so rattled. Well, except for that night at Cole’s warehouse.That night. Those memories.
“It’s called theDoctor’s room. It’sinside the club, at the beginning of the corridor after the dance floor,” I say, my voice clipped, urgent. “We’re tied up.”
“Stay put. We come,slatka,” Katerina says, her voice firm. I hear a familiar voice in the background that makes my chest tighten.
“Alexander?” I whisper.
“Ava,” Alex grunts; his voice is deep and rough. “I’m on my way.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to help take them down. I didn’t want to lose you. I knew you wouldn’t let me go—” The words spill out like a torrent.
“Not now, Ava. Stay alive, don’t do anything stupid,” Alex demands. “I’m coming.”
“Be careful,” I say. “They’ll be expecting you.”
I hang up, my heart hammering in my chest. I press my back against the chair, my eyes closed, my body tense. I’ve only got half a hand free, and I don’t manage to loosen the ropes anymore.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I open my eyes, and my gaze hardens. I’m not going to let him break me.I am Ava Parker or Anya Petrov. It doesn’t matter which name I use. I am me, and I’m not going to back down.
Chapter 13
The Fight
The metal doorslams shut behind me with a thud—the sound is like a gut punch. I’m alone now, trapped in a new concrete box, my thoughts swirling like a hurricane. Lena and Tatiana are still locked in the Doctor’s room, at the mercy of Nikolai’s men.
My eyes scan the room, a sterile white box with a single harsh fluorescent light that makes everything feel like a bad dream. I’m left here, alone. There’s no furniture, no windows, and no other doors.
I try to push back the fear and the panic. But it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave. I need an anchor, something, anything.
My mind races back to my family, to John and Elaine Parker, my parents. They were my foundation,but now everything feels shaky, uncertain.
I remember our kitchen, the scent of my mom’s cinnamon rolls, a memory so vivid it stings. It was our little haven, a place of warmth and laughter. We didn’t have much, but we had each other.
My dad, a workaholic, was always on the phone, closing deals and making connections. He’d come home weary, but he always had a smile for me and a hug that made me feel safe. Still, I can’t help but wonder about the secrets they kept from me, their realidentity, myrealidentity. Suddenly, my mother’s accent wasn’t just cute and different. It was a Russian accent.
Why did they flee Russia? What were they running from? A monster?
They never told me the truth. I can see now that they were always careful, always evasive. But now, years later, I realize their silence wasn’t just about protecting me. It was about protecting themselves.
My head is spinning. I need answers, but I’m only getting more questions. Who were they before they became John and Elaine? What kind of life did they have in Russia? What happened to them?
I’m not looking for a happy ending. I’m looking for the truth, even if it’s ugly. Even if it breaks me. I need to know who I am, where I come from, and what I’m fighting for.
I close my eyes, trying to find hope in the darkness. But all I find is a relentless storm of questions about to knock me over.
My thoughts drift to Nikolai and his chilling eyes; his ruthless behavior. Goosebumps erupt on my arms. The thought of being at his mercy, of being forced to submit to him, is a horrifying nightmare. I’d rather die than be a pawn in his twisted game.
A loud clang shatters my thoughts. The metal door swings open, the sound heavy, like a final judgment. My heart races, and my body tenses.He’s here.
Nikolai steps into the room, his handsome features softened by a sly smirk. He walks toward me, his movements fluid, almost graceful, like a wolf. The nicknameWolfiesuits him.He stops before me, his gaze lingering on my bound hands.
