Chapter 78 Nikolai
The dungeons were cold, dark and empty.
I sat there for three days, waiting for death.
But death did not come. Instead, Ivanov came. He stood outside my cell, smiling.
Always smiling.
"Nikolai Markov. The mighty Pakhan. Look at you now."
I did not respond. I did not even look at him.
"I have decided to spare your life. For now."
That made me look up. "What?"
"I am not going to execute you. That would be too easy."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I am going to make you suffer. Every single day. For the rest of your miserable life." He unlocked the cell. Guards rushed in and unchained me from the wall. "You are going to work for me. As a servant. The lowest of the low. You will clean. You will wash. You will do whatever I tell you to do."
"I refuse to do it?" I said. My voice cracked. My throat was dry.
"Then I will hurt Anya. Every time you disobey. She will pay the price."
My blood ran cold. "You bastard."
"Yes. I am. And you will obey. Because you love her. Even though she believes you murdered her brother. Even though she hates you. You still love her."
He was right. I did.
"Take him to the servants' quarters. Get him cleaned up and put him to work."
They dragged me out of the dungeon, through the mansion, down to the basement where the servants lived.
They threw me in a small room. It was barely big enough for a bed.
"This is yours now. You will start work at dawn. Do not be late."
They locked the door from outside. I sat on the bed. It was hard and uncomfortable. But after three days of being chained to a wall, it felt like heaven.
I looked at my hands. They were covered in bruises.
I was a servant now. The lowest position in Ivanov's house.
And there was nothing I could do about it. Because if I fought back, Anya would suffer.
So I had to endure. I had to wait.
For what? I did not know.
But I had to believe that somehow, someway, I would get out of this.
Dawn came too quickly.
A guard banged on my door. "Get up! It's time to work!"
I got up. My body ached. My ribs were still broken. But I forced myself to move.
They gave me a servant's uniform. It was plain, gray and ugly. Then they handed me a bucket and a mop.
"Start with the main hall. Then the bathrooms. Then the kitchen. And do not stop until everything is spotless."
I started cleaning
Hours passed. My back screamed. My hands bled from the rough brush. My knees gave out multiple times.
But I kept going.
Because I had no choice.
At noon, they brought me to the garage.
"Wash the cars. All of them. And make them shine."
There were twenty cars. Maybe more.
I washed each one, scrubbed every inch and polished until I could see my reflection.
By the time I finished, the sun was setting.
"Good. Now clean the weapons. All of them. And oil them. Make sure they are ready for use."
They dumped hundreds of guns, knives and rifles. Expecting me to clean them.
I could only glare at the guard, I could not hit him.
I worked through the night.
Finally, at midnight, they brought me a small plate of food. Stale bread, cold soup and water.
"Eat quickly. Then go to sleep. You will start again at dawn."
I ate slowly. The food tasted like nothing. But I forced it down. Because I needed strength.
I went back to my room and collapsed on the bed.
And I did not dream. I did not think. I just existed.
Days passed like this.
I would wake up, clean, wash, work, eat, and sleep.
I lost track of time. I lost track of everything.
My body grew thinner and weaker. I could feel my ribs through my shirt. I could see my cheekbones in the mirror.
I was wasting away.
But I did not care.
Because sometimes, during my work, I would see Anya.
She would walk past, dressed in beautiful clothes. Her hair was nearly packed. Her face was clean. She looked healthy, and well-fed. And that made the pain bearable.
She never looked at me.
But it didn't matter. At least she was safe. Even if she hated me. Even if she believed I killed her brother. At least she was alive.
One day, while I was cleaning the main hall, a servant walked past me.
She dropped something.
It was a small piece of paper.
I picked it up and looked around. No one was watching.
I unfolded it. It was a message from Mikhail.
Pakhan. I am still free. But everything is gone. The house. The cars. The money. All of it belongs to Ivanov now. Most of the men have left to work for other families. But I am still here. I will get you out. I promise. Stay strong.
I crumpled the paper and threw it in my bucket.
Mikhail was still out there, trying to get me out.
But how could he save me? He had nothing. No resources. No men. No power.
I was on my own.
Weeks passed.
The routine never changed.
I stopped counting the days. I stopped hoping for escape.
This was my life now. And it would be until Ivanov got bored and killed me.
I had lost so much weight, my uniform hung off my body like a sack.
I could barely lift the mop anymore. I could barely stand for long periods. But I kept working because I couldn't let Anya suffer because of me.
I was in the garage one day, washing a car when I saw her again.
Anya was walking with Ivanov. He had his arm around her waist.
She was smiling at something he said
I froze.
What was going on? Why was Ivanov holding Anya in such a possessive manner?
I held the car tighter for support.
Anya had accepted her new life.
I turned away and focused on the car, scrubbing harder.
"You missed a spot."
I looked up. Ivanov was standing there, smiling. And Anya was beside him.
"Fix it," he said, grinning.
I grabbed the cloth and started scrubbing the missed spot, avoiding Anya's gaze.
"Look at him, Anya," Ivanov said. "The great Nikolai Markov. Reduced to washing my cars."
I looked at her. Her eyes were cold and empty.
"He deserves it," she said quietly.
The words cut deeper than any knife.
"Yes. He does." Ivanov pulled her closer and kissed her cheek. "Come. Let us leave this filth to his work."
They walked away. Arm in arm.
And I stood there, broken and defeated.
She really believed I killed Dmitri. And nothing would change her mind.
I finished washing the car and moved to the next one.
And I realized something dangerous.
I did not want to escape anymore. I did not want to fight. I just wanted this to be over. One way or another.
That night, I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
There had been no message from Mikhail in weeks. No sign of rescue.
Maybe he had given up.
I closed my eyes. And for the first time in my life, I prayed.
Not to God. Not to any higher power.
But to Dmitri.
"I am sorry," I whispered into the darkness. "I am sorry I could not save you. I am sorry I failed. I am sorry for everything."
Silence answered me.
As it always did.
I turned over and faced the wall.
And I waited for sleep to take me.
Tomorrow would be another day of servitude. Another day of pain.
Another day of being nothing. And I would endure it. Because I had to. Because even though Anya hated me. Even though the world had forgotten me.
I was still alive.
And as long as I was alive, there was a chance.
Even if that chance was one in a million.