Chapter 6 Six

The cage

The splash of Katerina’s spit against Ivan’s cheek landed somewhere between disgust and an oddly faint curiosity.

Throwing her chin off his hands. He rose slowly and took the dark handkerchief one of his men offered without looking at him. As he wiped his face, the soft chuckle coming from Katrina, made his chest tighten. He felt a grip of resentment for the woman he once loved.

I am rather shocked that you find this amusing, he said.

“Oh please… stop the bullshit.”

“The charade you’ve put on is rather convincing but enough of the theatrics. Your rather small audience isn't buying it.”

“You think this is a show?” He flung the handkerchief aside.

“A painfully dull one. I was dragged here.” Her words trembled.

If there was one thing she would never allow, it was for this… son of a bitch, to see her tremble.

“Your errand boys dragged me off my perfectly going work life” Which she knew was a lie,considering the recent Neva Import case.

“ Then you had that bitch drug me.” She continued.

Her defiance shocked him, but not entirely. He could spot the fear in her eyes, like a snail uncertainly poking from its shell. He could see through her, he always did. Only this time he was unsure.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded,

This time she wasn’t asking for his name.

“I do not believe you are dull of hearing”

“You’re my wife!” He screamed, his voice echoing through the room.

“Can you stop saying that?” she snapped.

“I have no memory of ever marrying you. And if I did, I doubt you’d fit the description.”

She knew she should have bitten back her words but he drew something out in her she had never known, a reckless boldness that tasted like danger.

He walked towards the wine on the sideboard. The decanter was simple glass, broad and heavy. It’s lip catching the lamplight; the wine inside was dark-garnet red. Ivan selected a tall, thin-stemmed glass. The liquid poured smoothly, settling with a quiet sound. He balanced the stem between two fingers, lifting it up. As though letting the liquid catch the light, like a warning before he sipped.

He stepped close to her and lifted her chin by the jaw. She forced the wine to her lips when he pressed the glass against them; she swallowed. The taste bitter with tannin and something dark under the fruit. She choked a little and he cared less.

“Don’t ever say I’m not your husband.” His words were a verdict, final and cold.

A tight knot formed in her stomach and a shiver ran through her. Something about him felt familiar, yet she couldn’t place it.

He slipped out a small knife, black as a moonless night, barely longer than a hand. The blade was thin, He slid it against the pulse at the side of her neck, brushing the space between her pulse and her life.

The cold kiss of the metal caused Katerina to shiver. She could not tell whether it was the temperature of the metal or the proximity of the man. The closeness that let her feel his breath: the scent of aged brandy and lingering smoke, laced with iron and a sharp mineral sting. She swallowed hard and folded her feelings inward.

“I’ll slit your throat and feed it to the dogs.”

At that instant one of the dogs in the corner, a massive Caucasian Shepherd, rumbled low, a deep warning.

He withdrew the blade. A strange wave of disappointment hit her as he stepped back. For that brief second of his proximity, she felt afraid and yet drawn. She was supposed to be terrified and yet…her mind clung to the smell of his breath.

He gestured to two of his men.

“Take her to her room,”

Katerina heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, some distance from him. And yet, why did she crave distance? What she truly needed was clarity; answers to the questions that had been building in her mind way before she’d been brought here. Pieces of a reality she couldn’t make sense of.

The men reached for her, their hands firm on her arms, ready to guide her toward the stairs. She jerked against their hands, losing balance.

“Can I at least move on my own, please?” she demanded, voice thin.

Ivan’s amber eyes burned into her and for a heartbeat, he nodded, and the men hesitated, ready to release her.

He snapped his finger signifying a sudden change of mind. His voice cut through the quiet.

“No …I changed my mind.”

At his signal, the men tightened their grip again, guiding her firmly down the hall.

—————

The two men finally let go of Katerina, their grip lingering just enough to remind her she was not free. They led her into the room, their grip slightly loosening.

Before stepping fully inside, a massive door at the far end of the hallway caught her attention. She wondered what secrets lay behind it. A forbidden corner of the estate, perhaps, or some hidden chamber only Ivan Morozov could enter. For a fleeting moment, the mere thought of Ivan Morozov and that unknown space sent a brief, nervous chill down through her spine.

She walked in looking rather flustered. The room she entered was painted in soft shades of gray and cream. The heavy curtains covered up the little morning light that managed to seep through. Polished dark-wood furniture filled the space, and a thick rug softened her steps. The faint scent of leather and incense lingered in the air, as if the room itself were keeping watch.

What was this place and why was Ivan Morozov calling her his wife. For a second, she tried thinking deep. While she had absolutely no clue about her life before the accident, a marriage was far from the what she ever thought she had gotten into.

Do they have kids?

Why didn’t her mother ever mention a husband?

Why did she keep it that big part of her life from her mom?

And that moment while quietly sitting on the bed as though scared she would fall. Her mind totally spiralled.

What if he was a serial killer?

“I’d have been long dead by now” She muttered to herself.

She scanned the room, searching for anything she could place her her hands on. By the far end of the room, she saw picture potraits wrapped in brown paper. Curios to know whose it was, she headed towards it.

She halted at the sight of a large, elevated mirror. She found herself looking at the mirror and also her reflection. She couldn’t move. There was something about this place that felt familiar… that felt like a scene in an old childhood movie she watched with her mom.

She took some steps forward, her hand scanning the dresser. She opened the first drawer and all she found was hair and make up accessories. Right when she was about opening the next one, she heard whispers coming from outside her door.

The whispers suddenly grew, it was accompanied by the bolting of her door from outside. She quickly ended her search for answers and hurried towards the door..

It was bolted. Was this some sort of a cage, she was trapped in.

“What the hell…” she muttered under her breath, her voice rising in disbelief.

“You bloody fools! Open the damn door!”

She pounded on the door aggressively. “You can’t keep me here! They’ll come looking for me!”

Even as she shouted, doubt hit at her. Who would come looking? She had no close friends; Ben was barely one. Merely a coworker she occasionally spoke to, and Henderson, who cared nothing about her well-being beyond his paycheck.

Bloody humans.

She tugged at the door again. Then she remembered a small, forgotten trick. From her hair, she retrieved the tiniest hairpin she owned. Skeptical it was going to work because of it’s size. It failed. Worse, the pin got stuck.

“Shit!” she screamed in frustration.

Panic began to rise, slow at first and soon spread like frost. Her chest tightened. Her breath started becoming shorter. The world around her blurred and her hands shook uncontrollably. She pressed her palms against the door, but the trembling refused to subside.

She was having a panic attack. She had experienced tons of it but it wasn’t frequent.

“Katrina breath” she tried her calming exercise but it didn’t seem to work this time. She hadn’t felt this way for the longest.

And then, as if summoned by the panic itself, a fragment of her memory flooded her mind. The room suddenly became dark. All her eyes could see was a shadowy place that she barely recognized. As though she had stumbled into the deepest corners of her own mind. She saw droplets of blood, her blood. The air felt thick. The flashback ended as abruptly as it had begun. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.