CHAPTER 02 — THE BASEMENT

Liora Voss

I woke to the constant sound of dripping water. Ploc. Ploc. Ploc. A slow, relentless rhythm echoing off the damp concrete walls, marking time like a macabre clock. The heavy smell of mold and wet earth filled my nostrils, mixed with something metallic I preferred not to identify. The darkness was almost complete, broken only by a weak, yellowish bulb swinging from the ceiling, casting long, distorted shadows.

I tried to move, but my hands were tied above my head, bound with rough ropes to a rusty pipe. The skin on my wrists burned with every breath. My shoulders throbbed. The cold, damp floor stuck to the soles of my bare feet. I was dirty, exhausted, and completely powerless.

A pit of despair.

I didn’t know how many hours—or days—had passed since the alley. The last clear image in my mind was the Capo staring at me as the sweet-smelling cloth was pressed over my face. After that… nothing.

I pulled on the restraints again, but the rope only bit deeper into my skin. A low groan escaped my dry throat. The fear was still there, cold and sharp, but something else was beginning to mix with it. A strange restlessness. A dangerous curiosity I was trying to bury.

What do they want from me?

The silence was shattered by the metallic groan of the door. The heavy metal door swung open with a bang, and light from the hallway sliced into the basement. An imposing silhouette filled the doorway.

Heros Green.

He entered slowly, with that natural confidence of a man who knows the world bends to his will. Dark hair with silver threads at the temples, neatly trimmed beard, clear and piercing eyes. Even in the dim light, his presence dominated the entire space. He was the Capo di tutti capi. And he knew it.

His eyes swept the basement before locking onto me. A shiver ran down my spine. It wasn’t just fear. There was something more—something hot and shameful stirring low in my belly.

He stopped a few steps away and crouched down, bringing himself almost to my level. His scent — dark wood, leather, and a faint citrus note — clashed brutally with the stench of mold.

“Look who finally woke up,” he murmured, his voice deep and controlled, carrying a slight Italian accent that made every word feel dangerous. “Sleep well, Liora?”

I swallowed hard. My heart hammered unevenly.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady even though it came out hoarse.

Heros tilted his head, studying me as if I were an interesting puzzle.

“Answers, to start with. Who are you really? What were you doing in that alley?”

“I already told you. I was coming home from school. My mother forgot me again, so I took a shortcut. That’s all.”

He reached out and gripped my chin firmly, but without hurting me. His light eyes seemed capable of seeing straight through me.

“You’re an eighteen-year-old girl walking alone at night in Moscow. In an alley where we carried out an ambush. Bad luck… or something more?”

“Bad luck,” I answered, holding his gaze. “Just bad luck.”

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“You’re beautiful. More than beautiful. And there’s fire in your eyes. That intrigues me.” He slid his thumb across my lower lip in an almost intimate touch. “But intrigue can also be dangerous.”

I felt heat rise to my face. I hated the way my body reacted to his nearness. I hated even more that I couldn’t ignore it.

“If I were Bratva, do you think I’d be tied up here like an idiot?” I shot back.

Heros let out a low, husky laugh.

“Fair point. But I still don’t trust you.” He stood up and walked slowly around me. “You saw things you shouldn’t have seen, Liora. Men died in that alley. Blood was spilled. And you were there.”

He stopped behind me. I felt his presence like heat against my back.

“We can’t just let you go. That would be too big a risk for my family.”

“So what are you going to do with me?” I asked, my voice lower.

Heros came back to the front and crouched again. This time, his hand slid down my neck, not squeezing—just feeling my racing pulse.

“There are two options. The first: you fight us. You suffer. And in the end, you might not survive. The second…” He leaned in until our faces were only inches apart. “You accept what we’re offering. Protection. Luxury. Pleasure. A life beside five men who can give you the world… or destroy it.”

My heart pounded against my ribs. His scent, the intensity of his gaze, the firm hand on my neck—everything left me dizzy.

“You’re all insane,” I whispered.

“Maybe. But we’re the kind of insane that survives.” He released my neck and stood up. “Think about it, Liora. Tomorrow we’ll get you out of this hole. Give yourself a bath, clean clothes, and decent food. Then we’ll talk seriously about your future.”

Before leaving, he paused at the door and looked back one last time. His eyes slowly traveled down my body, lingering where the torn blouse barely covered my breasts.

“Oh, and Liora… stop squeezing your thighs together like that. I can smell you from here.”

The door slammed shut.

I was alone in the dim light again, breathing hard, my traitorous body throbbing in places I didn’t want to acknowledge.

The fear was still there — an icy knot in my stomach, terror at his presence and what he could do, the weight of my vulnerability crushing me.

But for the first time, it wasn’t the only thing.

There was a cold, growing anger, a dark determination to survive, to not become just another passive victim. And, even more dangerously, there was the spark of a dark curiosity—a disturbing glimpse of the power he held and the effect it had on me.

It was a thought that terrified me more than the dark basement, because it meant that, in some terrible way, he had already begun to change me.