Page 12 of Twilight Tears

7

LUNA

I’m still in my cell. I think I’ve always been here. I can’t remember anything else.

As I look around, the room gets darker. The single bulb hanging from the ceiling is watery like I’m looking at it through a fog. The edges of the room are dark. Monsters lurk there, so I curl myself into a tighter ball in the center of the bed.

But I’m not scared of the monsters. It’s the grasping hands reaching through the bars that terrify me.

The hands reach for me. Broken, bleeding fingernails scrape across the cement floor.

I shrink away from the barred door of the cell, but the room shrinks smaller and smaller. I’m shoved forward, closer and closer to the hands until there is no escape. Until they tear at my skin and my hair and my belly…

I wake up with a gasp. I’m shaking against the wall, as far away from the door as possible.

When I was first locked in this cell, I’d drift to sleep and be back at the mansion or tucked against Yakov’s chest. My mind was trying to escape this room and whatever Akim has planned for me. When I fall asleep now, though, Yakov isn’t there. Not anymore.

Even in my dreams, I’m still in this cell. There is no escape.

But at least I’m alone. I never thought I’d be grateful to be alone, but it’s better than my nightmares.

Then I hear the cell door creak open. My relief shatters as the hinge whines and puts my entire body on high alert.

I have to squint to make out the dark shape slipping through the door and crossing the small cell to loom over me. I bolt upright, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

“Relax.” The man’s voice is grating. “Don’t scream.”

My throat is so dry I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to. And I want to.

“Akim said no one would come in here,” I rasp. It’s a lie—Akim didn’t promise me anything. But I can tell that this man doesn’t have any good reason for being here.

The only reason anyone has come into my cell so far has been to bring me small drinks of water or a handful of crackers. Even then, the men handed everything through the bars.

This man’s hands are empty.

“As far as Akim knows, no one has come in here.” He touches my arm and I flinch away. He chuckles. “This can be our little secret.”

“Akim won’t like this.”

He twirls my hair around his finger and then pushes it back over my shoulder so he can see more of me. I feel his eyes on me, burning across my chest like acid. “I already told you: what Akim doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

But it could kill me.

I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

Before I can lower my arm, he snatches my wrist out of the air. His grip is crushing. I whimper as he twists my arm, turning me to face him.

“Don’t make things more difficult for yourself,” he growls, lowering his face to mine. His skin is pockmarked and oily. I smell alcohol on his breath. Up close, I can see the red tinge in his eyes.

“This won't be our secret. I’ll tell Akim what you did.”

Akim might not even care. Maybe he’ll think this soldier was onto something and open my cell door to every soldier in his Bratva.

Without warning, the man draws his hand back and slaps me across the face. My head snaps to the side, heat exploding across my cheek. Tears burn in my tired eyes.

The man lowers his lips to my stinging cheek. “And I’ll tell Akim that you tried to escape and I had no choice but to teach you a very, very hard lesson.”

My wrist is still pinned to the cement wall. My face burns. Even on a good day, I wouldn’t be able to fight this man off. And today is the furthest possible thing from a good day.