98. Nightmare

98. Nightmare
"Come on, my love," he spoke with a seductive tone that made me grimace in disgust. "Don't tell me you feel nothing. Everything's for you," he ran his hands over his torso.

I felt my stomach churn.

He sat on the bed and placed a hand on my leg. I jerked away and removed it.

"I swear to God I'll kill you if you touch me again," I said fiercely.

"If you're not mine, you won't be that bastard's," he replied in the same tone.

"Don't even mention him!" I shouted. "You don't even compare to him, Nikolay is a real man, I can't even feel a shred of desire for you, you idiot."

"You asked for it," he looked at me with anger and frustration. "You'll come to your senses, Margo. I love you."

I didn't even know what he meant by that, but I was afraid he might be hurting Nikolay or someone else I cared about, like Sasha.

The door closed, and thank God, I was left alone. I lay down on the bed and cried silently. How much longer would this last?

I caressed my belly, much larger than the last time I had been free. My gaze was fixed on the ceiling; everything hurt lying here.

My spirits were at an all-time low; I didn't want to bear the uncertainty anymore and get out of this confinement. I wanted Nikolay and us to be a family again.

I wanted to be strong, but every day I felt weaker, more sunk, and more hopeless about getting out of this damn prison.

Mike entered through the door, like every day.

"Good morning, my love," he greeted cheerfully.

I sighed.

"Mike, let me go, you won't get anything from me," I pleaded, but he just laughed.

"You still don't understand, love. If you're not for me, you won't be for anyone," he said, smiling broadly.

"Then just kill me already," I begged, not wanting to endure this anymore.

"Margaret, I can make you happy. We can get married and start a..."

"Shut up!" I didn't even want to hear it. "That will never happen. Get it into your head, I will never be with you, Mike."

"Do you want me to hurt your loved ones?" I went cold.

"You'll come to your senses one way or another," he said as the sound of his phone interrupted him, and he left to answer the call.

One of his men came in with food and left it on the table.

I turned my gaze to the wall and focused my thoughts on Nikolay until I fell asleep and could dream of being in his arms.

I felt someone touching me, and I woke up abruptly to see Mike on top of me, rubbing himself against me. I began to feel scared and squirmed under him.

I tried to twist my hips to get him off, but he grabbed my arms.

"Don't touch me, you damn sicko!" I yelled, and he slapped my cheek. He had never done that before, and the burning sensation on my face was nothing compared to the one in my chest.

"You'll do it one way or another, my love," he continued to rub against me.

I wanted him to get off.

To leave.

Not to touch me.

I felt his hands on my chest, and a great sense of anxiety washed over me.

No, please.

I heard a scream in the background, and he stormed out of the room, slamming the door. I opened my eyes and saw that I was indeed alone.

I sighed in relief, but I still felt the anxiety and disgust coursing through my body.

Minutes later, I heard a car start up and drive away. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I thought of Nikolay, of my home with him, of my parents, and of my baby growing in my womb.

I had to be strong, I had to resist. Like every day, I tried to find an escape route, but I found none. I had tried everything, but it was impossible to escape.

My hope vanished as quickly as it came, and I closed my eyes, falling into a dream where only Nikolay existed—the only man in my life, the only one I have loved and will love for the rest of my life.



Nikolay

Throughout my life, I had been described with hundreds of adjectives, almost all of them negative.

I was never one of the people expected of me, which was logical because in my 31 years of life, I had set foot in a church less than 5 times. However, that didn't prevent me from learning a little, and that little was the only thing that interested me to reach my conclusion.

I believed in heaven and also in hell. I had never been to either, but I knew they existed.

Hell must be something very similar, if not the same, to what I felt when I carried Kira's corpse in my arms and walked with her to the van, where I then carried her again to take her to the morgue.

Now I was experiencing some kind of hell by not having Margaret by my side. I had moved heaven and earth to find her, but she was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, Tyler had managed to escape from them, although without being able to rescue Margaret.

I wanted to kill him when I saw him arrive alone and without my wife, but I gave up the idea when he told me that it was a very isolated place and that it had taken him many days to get out of there.

"I want all the information," I said with clenched fists, looking at him apprehensively. "We will go for Margaret immediately. I will torture that bastard until he is dry, without blood."

"Sir, that guy is dangerous. Surely he will escape; he has very strong allies. I barely managed to escape to come here. I grabbed all the relevant information to be able to rescue her," he sighed deeply. "We must make a very well-structured plan and stick to it because I am sure she could be injured."

"That damn bastard," I muttered with anger, trying to control myself. "Organize a team, give all the details you can, and make sure everyone is alert. I want that damn son of a bitch alive. I will make him suffer everything he is making me and Margaret suffer."

He left, and I was left alone with my thoughts, which was always dangerous. I had the most twisted ideas in my mind for that son of a bitch, and I hoped Margaret would give me the green light because I had already spared his life once, and he had decided to mess with the most sacred thing I had.

My men organized everything, armed ourselves to the teeth, and went there without further ado.