Chapter 8

POV ALEJANDRA ZAVALA

I woke up to the sound of the car door opening and saw the towering Ilya standing outside. Since we had left the previous motel, he had spoken very little, and his expression hadn’t changed.

My grandmother used to say that when we made a grimace, we had to be careful with the angels around. If one of them blew, our face would stay that way forever. It seemed like that’s what had happened to Ilya. The deep frown was permanently etched onto his forehead, giving the impression that it was something definitive.

The silence ended up being comforting, and I fell asleep once again, which surprised me. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be so vulnerable near an unfamiliar man, especially without knowing exactly where he was taking me.

He had said he would protect me, but why? Who was Ilya Kravtsov, after all?

I jumped out of the door he had opened and lifted my eyes, finding myself in front of another establishment similar to the previous one.

"Another motel?" was the first thing I asked or said after a long time in silence. My mouth had gotten dry, but at that moment, I started chattering my teeth because of the intense cold outside.

It had started snowing a little, and I was definitely not prepared for this kind of weather.

Noticing this, Ilya opened the back door of the car, grabbing a huge coat from inside and handing it to me. My legs would still be exposed, but it was better than nothing.

"Thank you. Are we staying here for the night?" I insisted.

"Hmmm…" He only let out a grunt, and I couldn’t tell if it was a "yes" or a "no." Without many explanations, he started walking, almost marching, adjusting his leather coat over his broad shoulders.

As he approached me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Or at least tried to, because I quickly pulled away.

"What are you doing?"

"We need to pretend we're married and get a room."

"Can’t we get two?"

He flashed a teasing smile.

"Not a chance, moi rys! We’ll have to share one because I’m not taking my eyes off you."

"What did you call me?" I frowned as well, but Ilya didn’t answer, just widened his smile and put his arm back in place, pulling me along with him, practically dragging me.

There was a person at the reception, and I saw on the wall clock that it was already past five in the morning. At the same time, it felt like an eternity had passed since that trunk had been opened and Ilya’s face had appeared in front of me.

He requested a room, exactly as he had said he would, and we went up.

It was much bigger than the other one, which gave me some hope for privacy.

"If you want to take a shower, go ahead," he offered. "I have some things to take care of."

I remained in the same spot, watching him move while holding a backpack. After opening it, he pulled out a huge T-shirt and handed it to me. Even though I was tall, the thing would definitely look like a nightgown on me, probably reaching my knees.

I took it, reluctant but eager to take off that ridiculous dress they had dressed me in—a lot like the virginal one I had worn when I was practically auctioned off to the pakhan.

Still looking at Ilya, I wondered what could be at stake for him if he really decided to help me. I didn’t fully believe it, because it didn’t even make sense, but I had to give him a vote of confidence since I had no other choice.

Resigned, I entered the bathroom, took off my clothes, and stepped under the hot water.

That was a luxury I had had in the past few months since I was chosen by the pakhan. When I was just another girl among the lost ones, with no clear fate, the showers were always cold, the towels were always rough, and the clothes were only patched up.

I savored every second because it was my first hot shower outside that place. I couldn’t say I was finally free, because I still didn’t really know, but it felt different.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, wearing Ilya’s shirt, I was still drying my hair. He was sitting on the bed, wearing only a white shirt and jeans, typing frantically on a laptop. So focused that he didn’t notice my presence at first. Very serious too, in a way that would intimidate anyone.

I cleared my throat to get his attention, and Ilya lifted his eyes to me, still cold and distant.

Not that I wanted him to be friendly or warm, but something had changed since I woke up. A new kind of concern, maybe?

It was as if he was angry at me. As if I had forced him to do something he didn’t want to do.

"You can use the bathroom. Sorry for taking so long."

"Hmmm." Another one of his grunts, which really made him resemble a bear more and more to me.

He closed his laptop, got up, and marched past me, entering the bathroom. Not satisfied, he opened the door again right after, sticking his head through the gap.

"I have the key, and the door is locked. It’s snowing outside, freezing as hell. If you go out, you’ll get lost, and I believe that would be much worse than if I find you. Think carefully before doing something stupid."

With that, he went back into the bathroom, slamming the door.

What had gotten into that man, who seemed even grumpier than before?

But I wasn’t going to run away. He was right. My chances out there, not knowing where I was, with the freezing cold, were nonexistent.

All that was left for me was to finish drying my hair and sit on the bed, thinking about everything that had happened. Had fate finally dealt me a lucky hand, or was I in the hands of a stranger who would make my life an even bigger nightmare?

When Ilya opened the door, his hair loose and wet, I caught a brief glimpse of him still inside the bathroom, brushing his teeth, but shirtless.

He was a wall of muscles, with some tattoos, utterly intimidating. To use the sink, which was low, he had to lean forward awkwardly. He also had to bend slightly to see himself in the mirror.

When he finished, he put on a clean shirt—black this time—and returned.

Somehow, I understood that I needed to win Ilya over. This was a game. I was just a pawn on a board where he was the rook, protecting his king. If I could get him on my side, earn his sympathy and maybe even his friendship, perhaps fate would give me a chance to live, not just survive.

"You look like a giant in a land of Hobbits," I said out of nowhere, making him lift his head toward me, looking completely surprised.

"You read... Tolkien?"

"I read everything. It was the only thing we could do. We had teachers. I particularly liked the Literature one."

Of course, we had them. Pretty and intelligent girls could appeal to some people, though most preferred their little slaves silent and submissive. I knew of cases where some had literally lost their tongues for acting too smart.

"People who went along with you being imprisoned," he muttered.

"People who had no choice. I don't judge them."

"Hmm..." Those grunts of his were starting to annoy me a little, to be honest.

But I didn’t have much choice but to put up with it.

He balled up his dirty clothes, stuffed them into a plastic bag, and shoved them into his backpack. Then he went back to the bathroom, dried the floor, tidied up the sink, and wiped the mirror. He didn’t even need to do all that since he hadn’t made much of a mess, but it seemed like Ilya was a very clean man.

The scent of his hair was proof of that, especially when he passed by me, still restless and organizing things.

We were both certainly tired, but he was a machine.

After finishing his entire routine, he stood beside the bed, turning to me. He had put something in his pocket, but I didn’t see what it was.

"I imagine the bed is big enough for both of us, right?" he asked. "There’s no way I’m sleeping on that couch, considering I need to rest because I don’t know if I’ll have to fight someone for you."

I stared at that long, broad man and thought that in the middle of the night, I would certainly end up touching him. No matter how much he lay on the very edge, in the confusion of sleep, we’d both end up in each other's arms.

The thought made me quite embarrassed, but... once again... I was at a disadvantage. I needed to play along.

"Promise you won’t take advantage of me?" I knew my eyes were full of pleading, which made him take a deep breath, sympathetic.

"I won’t, Alejandra."

Even so, he came toward me, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto the bed, making me lie down. He walked around, got in as well, and before I knew it, something cold was on my wrist.

"What...?"

When I lifted mine, his came along with it.

Ilya had chained us together.

"What are you doing? Take this off right now!" I screamed in despair. "I won’t stay tied to you. And if you roll on top of me with that huge body? I won’t be able to escape, and you’ll crush me."

"If that happens, just wake me up. I don’t sleep heavily when I don’t want to. I just need a nap, and I’m too tired to keep watching whether or not you’ll run."

"I won’t run!"

He gave a sarcastic smile and got comfortable, lying on his back.

"Ilya!" I called, poking his arm.

"Hmm..."

"Don’t do this. I’m still... scared," I tried to appeal to sympathy.

"You don’t need to be afraid of me," he replied with his eyes closed. "Let’s just sleep. We only have a few hours before my contact responds about our next destination."

"Where are we going?"

"Just sleep, Alejandra. Just sleep."

I huffed, frustrated, struggling to find a position.

Even with my body restlessly shifting from side to side, Ilya didn’t complain or tell me to stop. Within minutes, he started breathing softly, his very broad chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm, proving he had fallen asleep.

The best thing was to do the same—if I even could.