My emir

Chapter 3

Fear gripped her throat in a suffocating spasm. A surge of adrenaline washed over her body like a tidal wave. Like a cornered beast, the girl leapt two steps back and began to retreat sharply. And when the man raised his arms for a deadly strike, she grabbed a baseball bat from behind the corner and, dropping low to the ground, lunged with a “slashing” move.

— Take that, you bastard!

In the shadows, through cracked glasses, it was hard to make out the stranger’s face. With inhuman agility, he dodged — his sword, in the narrow passage between a concrete partition and a trash bin, slammed into the doorframe and stayed in his hands. And she had so hoped for the opposite.

Breathing heavily, she quickly wiped the sweat from her forehead with her free hand. Instantly coiling herself, she sprang to her feet and charged at the opponent, not giving him a moment to recover.

The stranger retreated toward the car. Then he let himself be forced onto it. Suddenly, with surprising speed, he jumped inside and slammed the door shut. For a second, Aria froze, stunned, blinking in disbelief. This couldn’t be real. Yulia was nowhere to be seen. Nowhere!

This doesn’t happen!

Children aren’t stolen in broad daylight, right from their mothers’ arms, in full view of everyone. Not out of the blue. Without hesitation, she slammed the bat against the car’s tinted window, pounding with all her strength. It was armoured — not a scratch, not a chip. But it was enough to make the glass slide down — and a gun barrel poked out.

Before Aria could even flinch, an unknown force yanked her from behind the corner and threw her down onto the wheel. The engine roared; a muffed shot rang out, like a siren before the start of a race. All she managed to see was the man who had been standing by the sixth entrance now jamming a large sword into the rear tyre and sticking something to the bottom of the Jeep.

A thought flashed through Aria’s mind:

«Maybe she’s inside the building?»

She didn’t have time to finish the thought. She’d hit her head too hard against the asphalt. She didn’t crash onto the hard pavement — she fell onto something resembling a not‑too‑soft gym mat. Opening her eyes, Aria dazedly realised she was lying on the ground, sprawled out like a fallen warrior. But beneath her head was a man’s hand. She was alive! And she still held the bat.

The first thought that crossed her mind: «Where is Yulia?»

Rolling over, she looked up — at the sky, the round sun, her balcony. Her peripheral vision caught a man getting to his feet. In his forties, dressed in some dark clothes.

— Yulia!

She sprang up, no longer feeling her arms or legs. The bench was empty. She dashed back toward the apartment, slamming into the closed entrance door, covered in peeling old notices. In a hurry, she punched in her neighbour’s code — her fingers slipped, missing the right number.

— Damn it! — she roared.

— Can I help? — asked a man behind her — the same one with the sword. But Aria had no time for that.

— Hello? — came the voice of her neighbour, Galina Anatolievna.

— Galina Anatolievna, it’s Ariel! Open up.

— What’s the rush so early? — the woman grumbled, pressing the button, and the intercom lock clanked.

Aria dashed inside, rushing past two boys who stared in surprise at the wild‑eyed girl with a bat in her hand and a scratch on her neck. Shooting up like a rocket to the sixth floor, Aria searched for Yulia. She didn’t immediately realise a man was running after her. She rang the neighbour’s doorbell, unable to wait even a second.

— Galina Anatolievna, call the police, now! The emergency services! She’s been taken — they’ve stolen her! — she shouted into the hallway, the moment the door opened.

The frightened neighbour, in a nightgown with a hastily thrown‑on robe, opened the shared vestibule door, staring at the frantic girl, genuinely not understanding what had happened.

— Oh, are we on fire?

Aria threw herself against the old door, trying to break it down. The door wouldn’t budge.

— Who are you? — the neighbour asked, eyeing the strange, towering man who’d followed. He had a thick but well‑groomed beard and strange amber eyes, from which emanated a soul‑chilling, unflinching cold.

— God, help me, — Aria pleaded aloud, throwing herself against the door a second time. It didn’t move.

— Let me, — the man said.

— What on earth is going on? — the neighbour repeated.

Aria stepped back, biting her nails. The man threw himself against the door — dust and plaster crumbled from the frames, cracks spread across the frame, and the door began to give. He threw himself a third time, yanking hard — the lock, warped, sank deep into the jamb, and the door gave way. On the fourth pull, he flung it open.

She dashed into the apartment, into the children’s room, freezing for a second — a loud gasp escaped her lips. Maybe she’d got the wrong flat. There were no children’s things in the apartment — no Yulia’s belongings. She darted into the hallway, peeked into the living room, the kitchen, then back to the hallway, feeling nausea rising in her throat and darkness swiftly clouding her vision. Strangers had been inside. She hadn’t just been stolen — they’d come here first, gathered her things, toys, clothes. And documents!?

— This can’t be happening, — she whispered, turning to the frightened, wary neighbour and the strange man. Darkness filled her eyes, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

***

— Aa… Ariel, are you feeling better?

The sharp sting of ammonia hit her nostrils, making her wince and surface from the darkness. She was lying on the sofa; her neighbour sat beside her, waving a soaked pad under her nose.

— Did you call the police? — she asked, trying to get up, but her head was spinning violently.

— The police?

— Yulia’s been stolen! Are you blind? — ignoring the dizziness, she staggered to the wall and grabbed her phone with trembling hands.

— No, we just brought you to your senses, — Galina Anatolievna turned around. — You’ll have to handle this yourself.

For a second, Aria froze. The events of fifteen minutes ago flashed before her eyes with horrifying clarity. She opened her mouth to object, but the courtyard appeared before her mind’s eye. Her neighbour was simply afraid. She had seen everything, knew there had been strangers in the apartment — and cowardly refused to testify. A wave of hatred surged within her. She wanted to tear the wretch apart.

But what about Yulia? She glanced sideways at her neighbour. Her head spun with renewed force. At once, she felt an overwhelming urge to empty her stomach. In a few leaps, she reached the bathroom and crawled out, feeling as if she were losing her mind.

— I’ll be going now, — the neighbour hurried to announce, sensing that Aria was clearly not in her right mind. — It’s getting late, I urgently need to attend to some matters. You stay here.

She quickly retreated from the apartment, and it was audible how every lock, bolt, and chain in the neighbour’s door was carefully turned.

Aria looked at the sabre on the wall. She took it in her hands, returned to the room, and made sure another replica hung on the wall. Everything that was happening seemed unthinkable, unreal — and yet, she could swear she hadn’t gone mad.

— Who are you? And what’s going on here? — ignoring the nausea, she asked the man belligerently. He had emerged from the children’s room with a thoughtful look and was now examining her winning sports trophies.

He held the sword unsheathed in his hand.

— Do you know where my daughter is?

The stranger regarded her attentively. He looked strange, unfriendly, and his clothes were odd too. But most importantly, he was in the apartment at all! What was he doing here?

— Will he come back?

— How old are you? — he asked without moving.

His voice was deep, bassy, and quiet. A slight accent lingered in his speech. She couldn’t place his nationality. It didn’t matter to her now. For the moment, it seemed irrelevant. An Eastern man — that’s enough for now.

— Twenty‑six. And you?

He frowned and didn’t answer, but sheathed the weapon. Then he raised his right hand and traced something in the air, nodding emphatically, seemingly to himself.

— Where is my daughter? — her voice trembled, breaking into hysterical notes; tears welled up in her eyes. — Do you know who it was? Will he come back?

— Don’t tell anyone about what happened, — the man ordered, heading for the exit. — You won’t prove anything.

— Nonsense!? There’s plenty of evidence.

— Lock yourself in and wait for my return.

Aria raised her hand with the sabre, blocking his way. Her voice sounded resolute, but tears pressed from within. A feverish thought lodged in her mind: I can’t let him go. After all, she needed to call the police — and he was a damn witness.

— Please, answer my questions.

As the man took a step, the blade pressed hard against his Adam’s apple, forcing him to stop. His gaze darkened; his jaw and cheekbones tensed. His expression grew so aggressive it seemed another clash was inevitable. He barely shifted forward.

— I won’t back down, — it seemed a sob stopped him.

Controlling himself, he raised his hand and slowly moved the blade away from his throat. In that moment, Aria thought she had never seen a colder look. Such eyes belonged to men who knew how to kill — the same gleam hunters had. She felt uneasy, anxious, nauseous. His behaviour was suspicious.

— What. Are you doing here?

— You’re a pawn, unable to change anything, — the man intoned dismissively, stepping past her as she, trembling from the horror of it all, kept gripping the hilt of the sabre.

Aria was clearly too shaken by what had happened. Too frozen by the chill of his arrogant judgement. Overcoming her hesitation, as if shaking it off, she turned to face him:

— So you’re the king, then?! Can you change everything? Fine, we’ll sort this out with the police. Get out. Get out of here, you bastard!

He seemed surprised. He glanced back and gave her a strange look. In one predatory, swift motion, he lunged at her. Aria let out a nervous squeak. She jerked, swinging the sabre. He circled around the blade. Heavy hands in an instant found her slender, delicate neck. They located the carotid artery, pressed the pressure points with lightning speed. A hypnotic, husky voice intoned:

— Sleep…

And she didn’t even notice how she sank into a deep sleep.