Chapter 3 A Princess To The Captive

• Nadia
• The moment those words left his lips, my heart felt like it would burst out of my chest.
• His face was stone-cold, his eyes unreadable.
• “What sins?” I whispered, my voice cracking.
• My parents were good people, always kind, always giving.
• They ran a small mall and a vineyard that made wine for our town. That… that was it.
• No way anyone would want them dead.
• I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting tears. And Andrei… he was just a kid, quiet, funny in his own way, always tinkering with gadgets.
• He didn’t deserve this. None of us did.
• A single tear slipped down my cheek as I looked at him. I should have been downstairs with them. I should have died with them.
• He didn’t say a word. Instead, his fingers closed around a handful of my hair, yanking me upright. Pain shot through my scalp.
• “Shut up,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous.
• I gripped his hand, trying to pry his fingers out of my hair. “Please,” I begged, though my voice sounded weak even to my own ears. “Let me go.”
• He pulled harder. My feet left the ground. Fear slammed into me, so strong I almost blacked out. But somewhere in that terror, something fierce and hot took over.
• I kicked him with everything I had. My boot connected with his shin, and he stumbled backward, crashing down the stairs with a thud. I froze, my heart pounding so hard it hurt to breathe. Had I just killed him?
• He groaned, a low, rattling sound, and I knew he was still alive. I didn’t wait to find out if he’d get up again. I turned on my heel and ran for the front door.
• The hall was strewn with shattered glass and my parents’ lifeless bodies. My stomach churned, but I couldn’t stop. The front door was a few steps away, my only hope.
• Then a hand wrapped around my ankle and yanked me down, hard. I hit my face on the floor, tasting blood. I kicked my feet blindly and felt him grunt as my heel caught his jaw.
• He loosened his grip, and I scrambled to my feet. The door was right there. I lunged for it, chest heaving, lungs burning.
• I flung it open and stumbled outside into the night. The air was cold and sharp against my skin. Moonlight reflected off the gravel drive. I didn’t hesitate. I bolted toward the vineyard on the far side of our estate.
• The gates were miles away, there was no way I could make it. But the grapevines… they stretched for acres, their leaves thick. If I could lose him in those rows, maybe I’d have a chance.
• I darted into the vines, feeling the soft dirt under my feet. I zig-zagged between the stalks, branches scraping my arms. I heard a shout behind me, a gunshot cracked through the night air and a grapevine snapped near my head.
• I stumbled but didn’t stop. My ears rang. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear my own footsteps.
• Then, ice-cold metal pressed against my temple. I froze. A gun.
• How… how did that even happen?
• “Try running away again,” he growled, his breath hot on my neck. “And I’ll blow your brains out.”
• My legs turned to jelly. I couldn’t move. I could feel tears slipping down my face, but I kept my chin tipped down so he wouldn’t see me cry.
• He yanked me out of the vines, hair ripping. Pain scorched my scalp. Every step was agony. He dragged me back to a black sedan parked at the edge of the vineyard. My head banged against the car door.
• He pulled a worn leather belt from his pants and wrapped it tight around my wrists. I gasped as blood pooled under the belt. He shoved me into the back seat so hard I hit my knee on the door frame.
• Then he slid in beside me and slammed the door. The short click of the lock sounded final. I pressed my cheek against the seat, tasting dust and fear.
• Another man climbed into the front passenger seat. Two against one. My chest tightened.
• “Move,” the man said, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes were cold, empty.
• I swallowed hard, nodding. My throat felt raw.
• The driver slammed on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward, gravel spitting behind us. My head slammed back against the seat. My bound hands cut into my skin, but I couldn’t free them.
• I peeked out the window. The vineyard rows passed by in a blur of dark green. My house and everything I’d ever known faded behind me.
• Why was I alive? Why had he left me when he’d killed my family? The thought burned inside me, twisting fear into something fiercer, anger.
• I pressed my palm against the seat, steadying myself. Maybe this was my chance. I would survive. I would make him pay.
• Minutes dragged by like hours. Finally, the car slowed and came to a stop. We were in a clearing deep in the vineyard, under a faint moon. Four tall rows of grapevines surrounded us like walls.
• He reached across me, yanked open the door, and hauled me out. My feet hit the dry dirt, and I stumbled. He slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side. Stars danced behind my eyelid.
• “Walk,” he ordered, jerking me toward an old barn at the edge of the clearing.
• I wiped blood from my lip and forced myself to stand up straight. Every nerve in my body screamed. But I swallowed back my fear and anger, focusing on each breath, inhale, exhale.
• We reached the barn. Its wood was weathered and cracked. He shoved me inside. Moonlight streamed through the slats, cutting the darkness into silver lines.
• He pushed me to a dusty crate and shoved me down. My bound hands clattered against the wood. I tried to rub the pain out of my wrists, but it was useless.
• The barn door creaked shut. My heart slammed against my ribs. I pressed my back against the crate, trying to make myself small.
• Footsteps approached. He came in, holding the gun. The beam from a single overhead bulb flickered on, throwing his shadow long across the floor.
• He stared at me, his face hard. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you back there,” he said quietly, like it was a confession. “Lucky I need you alive for something.”
• My throat went dry. I forced my voice out in a whisper: “Please… why are you doing this? What do you want?”
• He cocked the gun against his shoulder, thumbs brushing the hammer. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
• He turned and walked toward the barn door, the gun pointing straight ahead. I watched his boots kick up dust. Then the door slammed shut, cutting off my only way out.
• I was alone in the dark. My wrist throbbed. My heart raced. Fear pooled in my stomach, but I refused to cry. Not now.
• I clenched my jaw and stared at the crate in front of me. Survival meant thinking. Looking for a way out. Hope had to be somewhere in this darkness.
• I pressed my forehead against the rough wood, tasting dust and blood. I swallowed my fear and let anger rise. He thought he could break me. He thought he could own me. He was wrong.
• I didn’t know what awaited me outside that barn door, but I knew one thing for sure: I would survive. And someday, I would make him answer for what he’d done.
• No matter what.