Talon
I’d been living directly under Viktor’s thumb for almost a week now. He didn’t have me physically chained, but he’d made it very clear that I was not allowed to leave.
The compound was a fortress, all cold concrete and steel, with guards posted at every corner. The Russians watched me like hawks, their eyes tracking my every move. I wasn’t a prisoner in the traditional sense — I had a comfortable room, a large bed, even a TV — but the invisible chains were just as binding. The weight of them pressed on me, heavy and unrelenting.
I spent most of my time in the small gym Viktor had set up in the basement. It was the only place I could breathe without feeling like the walls were closing in. The rhythmic clank of weights, the burn in my muscles, the sweat dripping down my back — it wa
