Page 18 of Nemesis

I lurched up at the noise, expecting the dark blur of a roach or the skitter of a rat, but the wings took me by surprise.

Wing, I should say.

The pigeon had only one flapping through the air. The other was bent at an unnatural angle, along with a broken leg on the same side. It must’ve crashed through the open window.

I watched it carefully from my cot, stark horror shaking through my spine. A miserable cooing sound chirped through the air, piercing right through my sweaty chest. I’ve never felt so useless, waiting in silence as the creature twitched against the wooden floor, glowing in the moonlight. The poor bird blurred in my sight as tears pooled, silently tracking down my face.

Always silent.

I knew better than to make noise and wake the others.

The twitching continued, slowing with obvious agony until I couldn’t take it anymore. I shifted off my bed. Padded my little feet over to the wall.

The belt maneuvers in my grip before slipping under a thick neck. The figure blurs beneath me. Something wet drips down my cheek. Not a tear. I don’t do that anymore.

But when I loop the leather through the metal ring and pull with all my might, the world suddenly tilts.

None of the other kids woke as I slid the loose brick free. However, they did wake at the sound of it coming down against the creature’s small skull with every bit of might I possessed.

He moves all at once. Shadows twist, and my spine crunches against the hard floor. My lungs ache from the sudden displaced air.

“Get off of me!” I cry, holding desperately to the belt wrapped around his neck as the several-hundred-pound man practically sits on my chest. Fight, Octavia! I wriggle and kick…

“You?”

In the stillness, that dark blur comes into focus. Wavy black hair. Severe features. The low, familiar accent lining his voice.

The Russian who followed me out of the theater.

Vasiliy.

“Get off,” I hiss, trying to take advantage of his confusion to shrug off his tight hold. He sits back onto his heels, making quicker work than I did of scoping out our surroundings. The belt goes with him, causing him to frown as one hand pulls it free from his neck.

“Did you do this?” He rubs his sore throat, voice sounding almost boyish with confusion.

It’s oddly disarming.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at the leather swinging across his chest like a necklace. Then his eyes flick back up to me. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay?

Buddy, I’m the one who nearly strangled you.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, before narrowing my eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”

He freezes, eyes widening briefly before bursting out in an obnoxious laugh. I tilt my head at the bastard, watching him run his hands over the leather belt in his hand.

“Was that the plan, zlaya?” The raw confusion dissipates into that teasing look of his. “I figured you just preferred your men collared and trapped between your thighs.”

Oh my God. I definitely prefer the dazed-and-confused version.

“Stop. This is serious.”

Vasiliy’s only response is to loop the leather back around his neck and pull it back through the glinting buckle. What the fuck is he doing? Before I find an answer, he leans over, consuming my personal space. I jolt backward onto my forearms.

The leather strap dangles down from his neck, resting on my chest as he stretches out on top of me, dominating every inch of space available in this tiny cell. “Better, zlaya?” he taunts, calling me that strange name again.