Chapter 3

• Chapter: "The Eyes Of The Wolf"
• Russia Moscow.
• With the lights off, in a cold room, gagged, hurt, I fight and resist. I confront the hurricane that shakes me, I feel more vulnerable when not knowing the intentions of my captor.
• I curl up on a thin quilt, trying to fall asleep despite the uncertainty. The mist is heavy, more so than my reluctant lids to close. The silence is devastating. It crushes me and closes my windpipe. The air leaves, the fears bare my soul, there is no barrier, a wall, nothing that separates me from danger.
• Nothing keeps me from extinction.
• The thicket of tears gushes forth with eagerness, I don't think I can free myself from death. The last thing I remember is being beaten fiercely, knocking out. Every muscle aches, I feel immeasurable pain that travels through my back and rips out my heart.
• I'm starving, I only remember carrying crumbs to my stomach the last few weeks, which is not enough for my system.
• I cry, the spasms do not stop, the intensity of the sensation is overwhelming, it burns vilely. My throat hurts, the pressure corners me in despair, and I don't move because my limbs are weak.
• Lifeless it turns me uphill to fight.
• I hear heavy footsteps, my heart is racing. My vital organ creaks in merciless cartwheels that cause a haphazard rhythm. I get smaller in the fetal position. With trembling hands, I clutch the coverlet, try to sleep, and my crazed breathing betrays me.
• The strident sound of the door announces the arrival of the pernicious subject. I clench my teeth on the fabric.
• "Luna Miller," she pronounces my name in an icy tone, her deep voice generates an unpleasant sensation, I can guess her evil intentions that saturate every fiber of my being -. Luna ... I know you're not asleep, get up, it's an order.
• It is rude, I did not expect subtlety from her part, and only one thing imprisons me, I am weak I cannot comply with her demand.
• I groan when the light goes off. The clarity hits my eyeball hard. The man removes the gag, for the first time my eyes inspect that face. He is not the Italian who had me imprisoned, he is another guy with dark features, yet his attractiveness is captivating to me.
• He leans to me in a crouch, close up his features take my breath away, he is a mixture of dominance, possession and danger exuded as a sporadic desire is born within me. His way of acting and his every action reveals power. I must be hallucinating, I would believe it if I didn't feel prickles of pain all over my body. His grayish green eyes pierce me, it is a scorching storm, his black hair is abundant, it is a Comb over haircut, to one side that does not suit him at all. His smile ... his smile paralyzes me, I do not come out of the consternation, of the eclipse that the imposing closeness of him has caused.
• I must be raving.
• "Do you know why you are here?" He questions exerting force on the grip on my chin.
• I'm not saying anything, the truth is I no longer have any idea who I am, so many events in threads have stolen my identity, I doubt my origin. A debate has raged in my head about plausible probabilities, also nonsensical; maybe i'm wrong, yeah, they took me wrong, i'm wrong. I will go crazy if I continue to mull it over.
• Everything is so absurd.
• I flatly reject that my father has anything to do with this, he is not the type to engage in dirty business, he is upright and fair, he does not paint a showdown either. Dad is not bad, I can not find reasons to tie him to this situation.
• So I keep quiet.
• "No, you don't know." You are in my hands, beautiful American.
• Damn fool!
• Furious I spit in his face.
• "Go to hell, you idiot!" I exclaim so loudly that I don't know my voice, it scratches my throat.
• His expression hardens, disfigures in the malevolent gesture that rips me apart in a heartbeat. It is unspoken in his orbs that he will avenge my daring. I regret it, the way he looks at me is a rifle that shoots, the power is thousands of bullets penetrating my fears.
• "What the hell do you think you're doing ?! He roars fiercely, with a slap he makes my face turn.
• Tears gather brutally, the left side of my face burns, it is one more wound, another thrust. The scourge he has struck fiercely, breaks the little that remains of me.
• I have the soul in a thread.
• I cover my face catching the sobs that escape my trembling lips. His violence destroys me from the outside, and deep down I want to hold tight to the crystals of a fortress that still shines in a storm.
• I wish to believe that the tumbles strengthen me, although now the pickets absorb everything and leave me in lethargy.
• I do not utter a single word, my vocal cords have become mute, and my eyes express fury, in a foolish attempt to claim the mistreatment of him, I calcine him. Suddenly he approaches his thumb, I stare at him, it is a support that also, balea, biting. Then I tighten my eyelids when I feel the infernal touch of him, the cunning of her fingers raises a maelstrom that freezes.
• I seek mercy, groping and silent, pleading and pleading fervently, I wish that he would have mercy on me.
• The metallic taste of blood is the aftertaste that runs through my mouth, I also feel the scarlet liquid that flows from my skin, right where he has touched his touch. The man with a strange accent, in my opinion Russian, removes his fingers from him, I open my eyes and see him licking his fingers in such a perverse way that it makes me tremble from head to toe. Then he slides a lunatic smile, he is not a sane being, what he just did is sick.
• He stopped breathing when he brings his face to mine, at no time does he stop smiling, I am inches from a psychopath and I can only think about how fateful.
• "You are in front of the wolf, welcome to Russia, Luna Miller," her mouth whispers venomously, she is dislocated at his words. He realizes my surprise and smiles more earnestly -. Welcome to the Russian mob, Lunita.
• My blood boils, to call me that causes a volcano of fury and sadness, it is a merciless mixture. Only dad usually calls me that way. Dad… he must be worried, I miss him so much. I keep the count of days captive in my mind. Fifteen days being a prisoner, it seems like an abysmal eternity.
• Now I have fallen into other hands but the same evil direction, disgusting intentions and I am still lost in the confusion.
• "W-why?" I dare to question with a torn voice.
• He, who calls himself the wolf, fixes his eyes on mine, devouring me.
• "Sometimes you have to pay for someone else's mistake," he emits, the breath of his pounding destabilizing me.
• What he said is ridiculous, unfair from where you look at him. I can't be innocent and pay for other people's dishes. The unknowns return, in that case, what mistakes is he talking about? who?
• My lips loathe twisted and deceptive words that only make me hate him. Yes, he sure he tries to wrap me in a fallacy. He is insane. I suddenly sob, he has said something about the mafia, which exacerbates my situation there.
• He is not just any madman, he is the worst. Fear ties me up, turns me to ashes.
• -What do you want of me? I weigh low, my heartbeat flying under his malicious gaze.
• "You wonder, what do I want from you?" He repeats, I resist the urge to roll my eyes, his accent is so impertinent. You should be prostrate before me, after all I have saved you from our enemies. So don't be ungrateful.
• What the hell does this idiot think?
• "You're not God, asshole," I scold, firing hatred at him.
• I shouldn't have told him that, in response he squeezes my face so hard that I groan in pain. Forced to look into his eyes, his gaze burns me. The rage that disperses with outrage is ice, and it also borders on a destructive fire.
• He hurts me, he treats me in a vile way, he is the bad guy, a kidnapper, murderer, above all a gangster, even so why do I keep thinking about his shocking physique?
• "I bet you don't want to be prey, if that's your case, don't provoke me." You can't imagine the thousand ways I think about how you can satisfy my appetite, Luna, "he warns with notable lust in his eyes, in the cheeky tone of his voice.
• "Don't you dare," I face him making an attempt to withdraw, he prevents me by getting up in an unexpected movement.
• His bold hands are on my waist, he keeps me standing, I honestly couldn't resist on my own. The energy and strength in me are scarce. But his grip is rough and he only hurts me more. He frees a hand and runs it over my sore cheek, he seems to study the blow. Unable to bear his invasion, I avoid his grayish greens that do not stop reading me.
• "Your insolence has earned it, but I'm not that evil, I'll have a doctor examine you," she declares as if he were truly benevolent. Then he grimaces, pinches the septum of his nose, and shakes his head. You suck, you're going to need a shower.
• What?
• My eyes widen.
• He is by no means going to do it.