Page 8 of Isle of Seduction
They found her. I watch the screen with a knot in my stomach, a burning sensation at the back of my throat that prevents me from drawing enough air into my lungs.
She’s naked and half-drugged, held at gunpoint by a man using her as a shield.
Moisture leaks on my cheeks, but I don’t move to wipe it away. With my lips parted, I taste salt, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.
Time feels suspended. I’m not sure I’m even breathing as I watch Igor approach them and drape his shirt over her body. He and the man with the gun leave the feed and Pierce runs to Lana, who crumples at his feet.
I’m frozen.
They have her.
My vision blurs and I remain seated in front of the three monitors in Andrea’s office, until tremors rock my body, starting at my navel and climbing up my chest. My whole body shakes with the undiluted fear catching up to me.
I must remain here for a long time, drawn out of my stupor by the sound of the front door opening and closing.
They can’t see me like this.
I close my eyes and finally wipe the tears away, inhaling deeply and exhaling smoothly a few times to settle my nervous system.
Pierce and Andrea set up a sleeping and exhausted Lana in a guest room. Pierce and I don’t move from her bedside until she wakes up twenty-four hours later. He gives me a haunted look before leaving me with my person so I can tell her I’m not coming home with her.
“How are you feeling?” she asks me weakly.
“I should be the one asking you this.”
She makes a move to sit up, but I stop her by pressing a gentle hand to her shoulder. I glide a strand of hair that falls in front of her face behind her ear. The gesture is familiar, sending me back to when we were just kids braiding each other’s hair and playing dress up.
“Don’t move, babe. Keep your strength.”
“I’m fine.” The wince on her face says otherwise, but Lana is more stubborn than a mule, so I don’t insist and sit on the side of the bed, taking her hand in mine.
“It’s okay if you’re not, babe.”
Silence settles between us, but it’s not oppressing. It feels like a welcome reprieve after days of anger and searching and panic. I look into her green eyes, so similar to mine, and don’t press her to talk when the agony in the depth makes them darken.
“I’ve brought you some food, though that heathen didn’t have much in his fridge or pantry. I wonder how he survived all these years. Can you believe there wasn’t any real cheese in there? I could only find this soft thing that can barely be called that.”
I’m clearly rambling, but it makes my cousin smile. It’s also a good way to ignore how I feel. The perspective of facing the meltdown I had when I was alone is overwhelming. So is the prospect of being stuck here for five years.
I look at the pack of sliced cheese like it offends me because it fucking does. First order of business once Lana is better: ask her to send me proper food from Kalliste. I won’t survive without brocciu.
“That will do, G, thank you. And aren’t you vegan, anyway?”
“Cheese doesn’t count.”
I make light of the situation because I can’t stand the thought that we were a few minutes away from losing her completely. It’s a well-honed defence mechanism by now.
“What do you need?” I whisper to her, still holding her hand. I can’t let go.
“I need for you to not treat me like a victim. G, look at me. I’m alive. You saved me. Pierce saved me. Igor…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence, her voice breaking on the name of her friend and bodyguard.
Ex-bodyguard now.
Misha Petrov’s whole game was to exchange Lana for his brother Igor and we didn’t have much choice but to go through with it. They both vanished and Andrea and Pierce have been searching everywhere for them, to no avail.
Tears line her eyes and mine reflect the sentiment. I take her in my arms and when she squeezes me to her body, which still smells at her lingering perfume despite having showered multiple times, I take it as an invitation and squeeze her back.