The Wolf In His Bones

Chapter 2

Darkness is the first thing I feel—heavy, suffocating, pressing behind my eyelids. Then comes the pain. My cheek burns. My wrists ache. My ribs throb like someone used me for warm-up practice.

And then it hits me.

I was kidnapped.

I try to shoot up, but my body doesn’t move. My hands are tied behind a chair. Thick rope. Rough fibers digging into my skin.

I blink until my vision clears. Concrete walls. A flickering bulb. Metal shelves stuffed with boxes. Gasoline, cigarettes. A warehouse. The kind where people disappear.

My heart races, but stays steady. Fear won’t save me. Panic won’t cut the ropes. Crying won’t open the door.

I have to stay sharp. Think clearly and get myself out of here.

Footsteps.

Two men walk in—the same idiots who grabbed me at the party. One of them, Crooked-Nose, looks at me like he’s dying for an excuse to hit me again.

Too bad.

I stare right into his eyes. “Round two? I’ll kick harder this time.”

His jaw ticks. “You got a mouth on you.”

“And you got cheap cologne,” I say. “We all struggle with something.”

“She’s brave for a Ukrainian rat.”

“I’m not Ukrainian,” I snap. “But you didn’t ask questions when you dragged me out, did you? I speak English. Clearly.”

The other one steps closer and grabs my jaw. “You were seen with the Ukrainians. Talking. Laughing. Dancing”

“I dance with anyone who knows rhythm,” I say. “You should try it sometime.”

His grip tightens. My cheek stings, but I don’t look away.

“Why were you with them?”

“I don’t know, genius… maybe because we were at a PARTY?”

He pulls my hair back.

“You don’t understand the position you’re in.”

“No,” I say calmly. “YOU don’t understand the mistake YOU made.”

The door swings open again.

Someone new walks in.

He’s younger than I expected. Late twenties. Dark hair, styled but messy. Sharp suit, sleeves rolled up. Tattoos on his forearm—clean lines, deliberate. His eyes are steel-gray, unreadable. And when he looks at me…

It feels like he sees through every lie I haven’t even told yet.

He speaks without looking away from me. “Untie her.”

Crooked-Nose stiffens. “Boss said—”

“I said,” the guy cuts him off, voice smooth but dangerous, “untie her.”

No yelling. No anger. Just pure authority.

Oh he’s not the boss here? I could tell.

The ropes come loose. Blood floods back into my fingers. I flex them, ignoring the ache.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Lila.”

“Last name?”

“Not telling you.”

A small smirk lifts his mouth. “You’re brave.”

“Or stupid,” Crooked-Nose mutters.

I shoot him a dead look.

“Lila,” the guy says, drawing my attention back, “why were you with the Ukrainians?”

“I wasn’t,” I say. “I met the girl few minutes before gunshots.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

He holds up a photo—Alexei, Dmitri, Yelena.

“Tell us who they are to you.”

“My voice stays steady. “People I met for ELEVEN minutes. Want me to draw their family tree too?”

Crooked-Nose slaps me.

Quick, sharp. Meant to scare.

I tilt my head back into place. “You hit like a kid, dumbass.”

His head jerks. He didn’t expect that. Take that fucker.

“You’re interesting,” the gray-eyed guy murmurs.

“I’m furious,” I answer.

“And I’m the only thing standing between you and a grave,” he says calmly.

Silence slices between us.

Fine. He wins that round.

He steps closer, slow and deliberate, until we’re eye-level.

“I’m going to ask everything again,” he says quietly. “If you lie, I’ll know. If you tell the truth…” He pauses. “Maybe you walk out alive.”

My throat tightens, but I don’t look away.

“Ask me,” I whisper.

And for the first time since I woke up here…

I’m really scared. Terrified.

But I have to survive.

For me.

For my dad.

For everything ahead of me.

Giving up is not an option.