Page 53 of Lord of the Underworld

Sometimes, I would hear someone else they'd hurt. Once, a woman crying softly. I tried to call to her, but she wouldn't answer me. Sometimes, it was men. Their groans would echo down the hall, and the worst was one who wept for his mother.

The days blurred and I didn't know how long I'd been there.

One day, they were dragging me back from a "conditioning session," my hair and dress were soaking wet, my toes scraping along the concrete because I couldn't stand. I was still vomiting up water. Someone shouted, "You pigs! How low can you sink? You're torturing a little girl? You pathetic fucks!"

They dumped me on the mattress and slammed my door shut, and then I heard it. The sound of fists against skin and bone. Grunts of pain. I put my hands over my face and cried silently. Finally, they were gone. I could hear labored breathing from a cell maybe two down from mine.

He croaked out, "Are you okay?"

"You shouldn't have gotten hurt for me," I sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. They didn't do much," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "The first day was worse."

"I'm sorry," I said again. I wasn't sure how to comfort him, but I wished I could. "This is your second day, then?"

"Third," he grunted. He gave a hoarse chuckle. "I had a day to heal up before they started in on me again. How long have you been here?"

I curled up tighter, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, trying to get warm in my wet clothes. "I don't know. It was April fourth when they took me."

There was a short silence.

"Iisus Khristos," he exploded. "You've been here for ten days? Why haven't your parents ransomed you yet?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, feeling shame burn through me like a bucket of boiling water down my back. "They didn't tell me what they wanted. But I know my father doesn't think much of me."

He gave an incredulous laugh. "Then your father is a piece of shit."

I giggled, a little shocked. I didn't usually hear this much profanity. "Yes," I admitted, "he really is."

There's a scrape, like he was edging near the side of his cell closest to me. "My family will get me out of here," he said urgently, with complete and utter certainty. "And when they do, I'll take you with me. All right?"

I thought the same thing, for the first week. That every time the door opened, it would be my father or my brothers, shooting everyone with a spray of bullets and taking me out of here.

Nobody was coming. The guards told me nobody will.

"That would be really nice," I whispered, not wanting to ruin his hope. Besides, maybe his family will come.

"How did you get kidnapped?" I asked. "For a ransom?"

"Intelligence," he scoffs. "Proof that would topple another Bratva. There's only three or four families that would benefit from the intelligence, I'm sure my father is narrowing it down to Grischenkov now. When they took me, they lost three men," he said with satisfaction.

We talked softly for hours. About his horse. How when he rode, it felt like nothing could stop him. That the earth and the sky and he and his horse were all one organism.

"Horses are healing," he said seriously. "When I'm riding, everything else falls away."

"I've ridden a couple of times at the stables by our house," I ventured. "Most of the time, the trainer was yelling at me for my terrible form." I chuckled. "I've always liked them, though. Maybe I'll get another chance to ride."

"You will," he said confidently. "And this time, you'll love it. You'll learn how to brush the horses and saddle them yourself."

He talked about his family. His mother and father. His brother, who he said was impossibly stupid, which made me giggle. The stories about his grandfather seemed like old legends, how he terrified everyone but him. I told him about my mother, and that she was nice, how she tried to keep me out of my father's way, and about my brothers who were busy and older than me, but they were kind when they remembered. They would bring me sweets sometimes, and presents, when they were away. Finally, exhausted and in pain, we both fell asleep.

I woke up with a stifled scream as I heard the door to his cell slam open. Three men, it took three men, I could hear their footsteps, and their shouts, as they dragged him out.

"Leave him alone!" I screamed. They laughed at me as they hauled him away. I cried for hours.

I wish I could have seen his face.

Chapter Twenty-Four