The question strikes at fears I’ve been trying to suppress since our fight this morning. How do I know I’m truly his priority when he’s spent weeks choosing business obligations over our relationship? How do I know he won’t decide the tactical risks ofrescuing me outweigh the emotional benefits? “Because he loves me.” The words emerge with more conviction than I feel.
“Love.” Mikhail spits the word like it tastes bitter. “Love is weakness in our world. It makes men stupid and careless. Your lover has already proven how much his feelings compromise his judgment.”
He stands again and moves to a small table I hadn’t noticed, returning with a bottle of water that he holds just out of reach. “Are you thirsty?”
My throat feels raw from fear and the dry basement air, but accepting anything from him feels like surrender. “No.”
“Stubborn. I admire that quality, though it won’t serve you well if this continues much longer.” He opens the bottle anyway and holds it closer. “Your babies need you to stay hydrated. Dehydration during pregnancy can cause complications you’d rather avoid.”
The mention of my children’s wellbeing breaks through my defiance. I need to stay as healthy as possible for their sake, regardless of my pride or my desire to resist his manipulations.
“Just a little.” I allow him to hold the bottle to my lips, not entirely surprised when he pulls it away at the last minute.
“You’re adorable in your naïveté.” He caps the bottle and sets it on the floor beside my chair, close enough that I can see it but not reach it. “You’re going to die here, so why would I waste water on you?”
I glare at him but don’t respond to his taunts. I just want to survive this and get home.
“I’m sure you’re miserable, so I offer you a small hope that you might be released once your lover and I conclude our business.” His tone returns to business-like formality. “If he cooperates, you’ll be released unharmed.”
“What kind of cooperation?” The question emerges despite my better judgment.
“The permanent kind.” His smile carries no warmth. “Iskander took my brother from me. Fair exchange requires him to pay the same price. The death of his second, Timur, will be a down payment, and his own surrender, torture, and death will satisfy the debt. Perhaps I’ll let you say goodbye or at least observe to the inevitable conclusion.” He laughs coldly.
The casual mention of torture and murder makes me tremble. He’s luring Iskander into a trap where Mikhail can kill him and Timur while I watch. Every word he utters is manipulation designed to keep me compliant while he orchestrates my lover’s death. He’ll never let me leave alive. He already said that when he denied me the water.
“He’ll never come alone.” I try to project confidence I don’t feel. “You’ll be outnumbered and outgunned before you get close enough to hurt him.”
“Perhaps, but even Iskander Taranov can’t assault a fortified position without risking the hostage he’s trying to rescue.” He returns to his chair with evident satisfaction. “Desperation makes people take chances they’d normally avoid.”
The tactical reality of my situation becomes clearer with each passing minute. I’m not just a hostage but bait designed to force Iskander into making emotional decisions instead of strategicones. Every protective instinct he has will work against him when he tries to reach me.
Pain builds behind my temples as stress and anxiety spike my blood pressure higher than Dr. Layton would consider safe. I try to focus on breathing exercises and calming thoughts, but terror for Iskander’s safety makes relaxation impossible.
“You’re in pain.” Mikhail observes my discomfort with clinical interest. “Headache?”
I don’t answer, but he seems to interpret my silence correctly.
“High blood pressure is common during multiple pregnancies, especially under stress, according to Google.” His knowledge of pregnancy complications makes my skin crawl. “Alina mentioned you might have complications.”
The question reveals another layer of violation I hadn’t considered. My private conversations with Dr. Layton and my fears about carrying seven babies safely were all potentially compromised by someone I trusted with my most vulnerable moments. “What else did she tell you?”
“Everything I needed to know about your schedules, your fears, and your relationship struggles.” He studies my face for reactions. “She mentioned the doctor’s warnings about stress reduction.”
The casual mention of my private medical information feels like another form of assault. Nothing about my life was truly private while Alina lived in our home and gathered intelligence about our daily routines.
“The irony is delicious.” He continues with evident pleasure. “While you begged your lover to prioritize your relationshipover business obligations, I was learning exactly how to use that relationship against him.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what? Stop telling you the truth about how completely you’ve been betrayed?” His voice hardens with satisfaction. “Or stop explaining how your lover’s feelings for you will finally give me the revenge I’ve been seeking?”
My ribs ache from tension and the uncomfortable chair, coupled with lack of water, while the headache behind my temples builds to something approaching agony. Every minute in this basement increases the risk to my babies, but fighting against restraints or giving in to panic will only make things worse.
I close my eyes and try to find some internal anchor point or source of strength that doesn’t depend on external circumstances I can’t control. The envelope in my hands reminds me Iskander and I created something beautiful together that’s worth surviving for. I have seven reasons to stay strong and refuse to give Mikhail the satisfaction of watching me break down under pressure.
When I open my eyes again, he’s watching me closely, probably trying to assess whether his psychological warfare is achieving the desired effect. “You’re stronger than I expected.” His tone carries grudging respect. “Most people would be begging by now.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No, you’re not.” He stands and moves toward the stairs. “I’ll leave you to think about our conversation. When your lover arrives, remember cooperation saves lives while defiance costs them.”
The basement door closes with a heavy thud that echoes off concrete walls, leaving me alone with dim lighting and the sound of my own breathing. Each hour stretches endlessly while I wait for sounds of approaching rescue or approaching doom, knowing no amount of cooperation will satisfy Mikhail. He wants to utterly destroy Iskander before killing him, so the babies and I will be among the first fatalities if my lover is captured by him.
The envelope with gender results remains clutched in my bound hands, a tangible reminder of the future Iskander and I are fighting to protect. Whatever happens in the hours ahead, our children deserve the chance to be born.
I settle back into the uncomfortable chair and concentrate on breathing and relaxing to lower my blood pressure. Mikhail can control my circumstances, but he can’t control my will to protect the family Iskander and I have created together.
The darkness presses closer as daylight fades outside the basement window, but I refuse to let despair take root. Somewhere in the distance, the man I love is coming for us, and I intend to be strong enough to help him succeed in us all walking out of here except Mikhail and his men. For the first time, I understand how Iskander can kill someone. Rage burns inside me, though I try to soothe it to avoid sudden hypertension, but I would hesitate to shoot, strangle, or stab him if I had the opportunity.
I give a bitter smile. One unintended consequence of Mikhail’s kidnapping us is it gives me better insight to how Iskander can be both dark and light, carrying hate while showing powerful love. In an odd twist of fate, this will probably bring us closer, assuming we all survive.
