Fake hope

ANYA POV.

I woke up to silence.

My body ached. My throat was dry. For a brief, stupid moment, I thought maybe it had been a nightmare.

Then I saw him.

Viktor.

Sitting in the chair across the room. Waiting.

He wasn’t on his phone. He wasn't looking at the time. He wasn't doing anything except watching me. Like he had all the time in the world.

The room was dark, but the city lights outside cast long shadows over his face. He didn’t look angry. He looked… patient.

I swallowed. My pulse pounded in my ears. Say something. Anything.

The words stuck in my throat.

He let me sit there in silence, letting the tension coil tight. He wanted me to break it first. To squirm under his gaze.

I clenched the sheets instead.

Finally, he spoke.

“How far did you think you’d get?”

His voice was low, smooth, almost amused.

I didn’t answer.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Hmm?”

I stayed quiet. My body was still sluggish, my thoughts sluggish, but my mind was racing. What was he going to do? Why wasn’t he—

He already knows.

That’s why he wasn’t asking where I was going. He wasn’t asking how I got out.

He just wanted to hear me say it.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to play his game.

Viktor exhaled through his nose, then tilted his head slightly. “Was it worth it?”

A spark of anger flared up. I latched onto it, and let it ground me. “Go to hell.”

His lips twitched. “Oh, Anya.” He tsked, shaking his head like I had disappointed him. Like this was all so predictable.

I dug my nails into my palms.

Then—he leaned in. Close. Too close. The scent of his cologne curled around me. His breath brushed my ear as he whispered:

“You think I didn’t see you coming?”

A chill ran down my spine.

“That I didn’t know exactly what you’d do?”

I held my breath.

Then, softly—too softly—he said:

“I let you get that far, Anya.”My blood turned to ice. “I let you taste freedom… just so I could take it away.”**

My stomach dropped.

He pulled back, meeting my eyes. The calmness in them, the quiet amusement—it was worse than any rage.

Because he had won. And he wanted me to know it.

Then—he stood and walked to the door.

I stiffened. What? That’s it? He wasn’t going to hurt me? Punish me? No. This was worse.

My breath came fast, shallow. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to fight—but that was exactly what he wanted.

So I didn’t.

I sat there. Silent and burning with rage.

He reached the door. Paused. Then, without looking back, said,

“Sleep well, kulkolka.”

And he left. Leaving me alone with the fear.

I didn’t know when I fell asleep.

One moment, I was staring at the ceiling, my mind racing, my body aching. The next, I was drowning in the weight of exhaustion, my throat raw from silent tears.

I had lost.

I had been so sure—so sure—that I could do it. That I could escape, find help, bring these monsters to justice. But now?

Now I knew better. I wasn’t just trapped. I was outmatched.

I didn’t know who these people were, how powerful they were. How dangerous. But one thing was clear—Viktor had let me run. He had let me hope, just so he could rip it away.

And now, I had no idea what came next.

Were the other girls bought also? Were they facing the same thing I was? Were they locked away in at least a beautiful room like mine or thrown in the dungeon?

I curled into myself, shaking.

Mama. She would be worried sick.

***

The morning light was harsh when I finally dragged myself out of bed. My body ached, covered in bruises, my muscles sore from the struggle. I couldn’t afford to wallow.

I forced myself up, went to the bathroom, and stood under the shower for what felt like forever, letting the hot water wash away the remnants of last night.

But nothing could wash away him.

His voice still echoed in my head.

You think I didn’t see you coming?

I let you taste freedom… just so I could take it away.

I gritted my teeth, forcing the memory down as I stepped out of the shower. He wanted me to feel helpless. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

I dried off quickly and slipped into the fresh clothes left for me—simple, soft, but they felt like shackles all the same.

Then, just as I was fastening the last button, a knock sounded at the door.

I froze.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Viktor?

No, no, no. It was too early, my pains had rarely subsided. For a moment, I thought about ignoring it. But another knock came, more patient this time.

Slowly and cautiously, I stepped forward. My bruises throbbed with every movement.

I reached for the handle, and hesitated. Then, swallowing my fear, I opened the door.

And blinked.

It wasn’t Viktor. A young man stood there instead. Tall and handsome.

His golden-brown hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his fingers through it. His jaw was sharp, dusted with the faintest hint of stubble.

But it was his eyes—warm, honey-colored, full of something I couldn’t quite place—that caught me off guard.

He smiled, slow and easy. The kind of smile that didn’t belong in a place like this.

Beside him stood two maids, one holding a tray with ointment and bandages and the other carrying a platter of food.

“Dobroye utro” Good morning. His voice was smooth, and calm. Almost… gentle. “May I come in?”

I stared at him, confused. Who was he? Why was he here?

The fear from last night still clung to me, but something about him felt different.

Hesitantly, I stepped back. And let him in.

The man—no, boy—stepped inside with an easy grin, like we were old friends. Like I wasn’t a prisoner.

“Privet, krasavitsa.” Hey, beautiful.

I stiffened immediately.

He chuckled, hands up in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m just being friendly.”

His voice was light, filled with something almost playful. It was so out of place in this cold, suffocating house that I didn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m Nikolai,” he continued, stepping further in. “Viktor’s nephew,I've been out of town for some business, got back last night and heard Uncle got a new...”

Nephew?

My body tensed all over again. If he was related to Viktor, then he was just as dangerous. Right?

But… he didn’t look dangerous.

There was something effortless about him—the way he smiled, the way he spoke. His golden-brown hair was slightly messy, as if he didn’t care to fix it. His honey-colored eyes held warmth, not ice.

He was the complete opposite of Viktor.

“You must be hungry,” he said, motioning to the maid behind him. “I figured you might not want to join the others for breakfast.”

I frowned. “Others?”

“The household,” he said simply, nodding toward the hall. “Big dining table, serious faces, no fun at all. I figured you'd prefer some peace.”

At that moment, the maid set a silver platter on the table. The second the scent hit me, my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.

I clenched my fists.

No.

I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Even when I was given food after—after everything—I refused. I wouldn’t eat in an enemy’s house.

The warmth of the room, the soft sheets, the food—none of it screamed captivity.

And Nikolai… he was smiling like he had no idea what kind of place this really was.

“Go on,” he urged. “Eat.”

I stayed still.

Nikolai sighed, amused. “Stubborn, huh? Well, while you decide, the maid’s gonna tend to your wounds.”

The second the woman moved toward me, I flinched back.

“What is this?” I snapped, my heart hammering. “Some kind of trick? What do you people have planned for me?”

Nikolai’s smile faltered.

Then, his voice softened. “Hey. I came here on my own, okay? No one sent me. And as long as I’m here, no one's gonna hurt you.”

I stared at him, trying to find the lie. There had to be a lie.

But there was nothing. Just quiet sincerity. Slowly and hesitantly, I let the maid approach.

The sting of the ointment made me wince, but compared to everything else, it was nothing.

Nikolai watched, arms crossed, that same easy grin on his face.

Then he tilted his head. “You know, you don’t have to stay stuck in your room, right?”

I frowned.

“You’re part of the family now,” he continued easily, as if that was something normal to say. “You can explore the house, go wherever you want. No one's gonna stop you. But if you’d rather stay here, that’s fine too. My company is always available, open hands and all.”

He spread his arms in a grand gesture, flashing a wink. “Just ask anyone to call me, and I’ll come keep you entertained. Trust me, I’m a very lovable, very fun person.”

I didn’t trust him. But I didn’t feel threatened, either.

With a final signal, he dismissed the maids, then turned back to me with one last easy smile.

“Enjoy the food, krasavitsa.”

And with that, he left. I sat there for a long moment.

Then, finally, I reached for the food and savored every bite.