𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘥

𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Addison's eyes widened when the SUV pulled up to iron-wrought gates, a cursive N etched into the gate.

"Who are you?" Addison was quiet as she turned to watch the man type on his phone, the gates rumbling the ground as they swung open, revealing a mansion, black brick sticking out amongst the white fluffy snow. Steeples were rising above the clouds, the tops hidden in the dense storm clouds. It was like she was traveling back in time, the home a piece of history in the twenty-first century. Her awe of the house disappeared when the man's laugh pierced her thoughts, his vibrant blue eyes pinning her in place.

"You are not dumb girl," the man's eyebrows furrowed when he saw the look of confusion on Addison's face, "you really don't know who I am?"

Addison shook her head, placing her hands out when the car slammed to a stop.

"My name is Vaughn Novikov."

Addison was going through the names of every single person she had ever met, who she could've ever made mad. But Vaughn Novikov was a strange name, one she had never met, or ever heard of. "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?" Vaughn reached over to undo the seat belt, Addison's breath halting at his close proximity, with his hands trailing over her abdomen to undo the belt she could see every single scar on his skin, the black ink swirls wrapping around his wrists and disappearing under his pristine white dress shirt. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"You, no. Your father-in-law yes, but he's hidden his precious wife away so you were the next target."

"If you think I'll sell out George or Sarah you're wrong," Addison sucked in a harsh breath when the door opened and hands were pulling her into the cold air of the Russian winter, she was barely able to gain air in her lungs when a hand shot out, grabbing her throat, yanking her back into the car and cutting off her breath.

"I'll drag every bit of information out of you, women aren't built to withstand torture, and I have no problem torturing you."

Addison bit down on her tongue so hard the iron taste of blood filled her senses, a smile crawling across her lips, "Do your worst Novikov, I can take a lot."

When she was pushed back out of the car, the snow crunched under her knees as Vaughn's men laughed at her. She was tired of every man she came across thinking she was weak, her eyes trailed up one of the men's legs, landing on a knife. Vaughn was watching her with a glint in his eyes, a silent challenge. He wanted to see what she was capable of, and she knew that he wouldn't punish her if she were to act on the impulse to dig that knife into the man's abdomen. Instead, she pushed herself back up to her feet, offering her hands out to one of the men, shock covering all their features.

She knew to never show her cards. Always hold them close to her chest. The element of surprise was going to be her survival tactic.

"Take her upstairs, the isolation wing. She can have the handcuffs off in that room, but she will be chained at all other times."

The men surrounded her as she was drug up to the isolation wing, her heart-stopping when they opened up the small stairwell that would lead up to the room. "Let's go princess." The man behind her shoved her forward, her footing being lost for a moment before she was catching on the wall, finally starting the walk up. The air was cold in the stone tower, wooden stairs creaking as she continued walking. The stairwell was dark, with sconces every few feet making it nearly impossible for her to see in front of her. The only reason she was able to keep her pace was because the man in front of her kept tugging up on the chains.

"Here," his hand slammed into the wall, lights flickering on in the lofty room, thick Russian accent making it nearly impossible for Addison to understand him. "Bathroom," Addison looked over to where he was pointing nodding slowly, "Bed," the man pointed to the full mattress with blankets sitting against the far wall, two nightstands filled with books and other means of entertainment for her, "clothes," two armoires sat against the wall next to the singular window in the room. "Wrists," Addison held her wrists back out, not noticing that she had dropped them against her thighs.