Anna
Sleep didn't come.
She lay curled on the edge of the bed, still in yesterday's clothes, her body stiff from tension and cold. Her eyes burned from hours of staring at nothing, mind racing through half-formed plans and dead ends. Every creak in the hallway, every sigh of the wind made her flinch. Her failed escape clung to her like sweat. It wasn't just failure—it was exposure. He'd let her try. Watched her do it. Probably enjoyed it.
She hated that most of all.
When the door creaked open again—softly, as if on purpose—Anna bolted upright.
Ivan Astra stepped inside, all shadows and sharp edges. He wore a dark shirt with the top buttons undone, and yet nothing about him looked relaxed. He was composed. Controlled. Dangerous.
In his hand was a single envelope.
"I brought you something," he said, his voice calm.
She didn't move.
He walked to the table and set the envelope down with casual precision, like it didn't matter at all. "It's a letter. From your mother."
Anna's breath caught. Her fingers curled into fists.
"She's alive?" she demanded.
Ivan met her gaze. "Yes. And safe, for now."
She didn't believe him. But still, she lunged for the envelope. Her mother's name was scrawled across the front in familiar, looping handwriting. She ripped it open with trembling fingers.
The note inside was brief. Too brief.
"I'm safe. Do what he says. Trust him, even if it's hard. I love you."
Anna read it three times, trying to find meaning in what wasn't written. Every line felt like a threat wearing a mother's voice.
"You made her write this," she said, voice low and sharp.
Ivan didn't deny it. "She wrote it knowing it would help you survive. That's what mothers do."
Her jaw tightened. "You think this proves something?"
He moved toward her, slow and measured. "It proves that your choices affect more than just you."
She glared at him. "You can't control people like this forever."
He tilted his head slightly, a quiet smile on his lips. "Forever is unnecessary. I only need a little of your time. Enough to reshape it."
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice raw.
He paused, hand on the frame. "Because your father left behind more than lies. He left loose ends. And I hate loose ends."
He left. And this time, the door didn't lock.
---
Ivan
He left it open for a reason.
The illusion of freedom was far more powerful than captivity. Let someone taste liberty—almost believe in it—and then take it away. That's when they broke. Not with chains. With hope.
In the control room, Ivan watched the security feed. Anna stood at the door for ten full minutes. Then—curiosity or courage—she stepped out.
Aleks stood beside him in silence, watching the same screen.
"She's clever," Aleks murmured.
"No," Ivan said. "She's determined. That makes her vulnerable."
"You're going to test her again."
"I already am."
Anna moved like a cat—quiet, deliberate. Down the stairs, toward the lounge. She thought she was in control now. That the world had softened, given her space.
Fools needed force.
Strong ones needed strategy.
She walked into the lounge, stopping cold at the sight of him already waiting.
He was sitting in his favorite leather chair, glass in hand, a file laid open beside him.
"Good," he said. "I was wondering how long it would take you."
Her eyes narrowed. "Is this another trap?"
"Not a trap," he replied, motioning to the chair across from him. "A conversation."
She didn't sit.
Ivan picked up the folder. "Your father was a liar. A thief. A man who pretended to make peace while digging deeper graves."
Anna flinched.
"He disappeared when you were eleven. You think he died."
"He did," she snapped.
"No. He ran."
Ivan stood now, moving slowly toward her.
"Your father owed me. He made promises. Then vanished. You and your mother were his parting gift. Left behind like broken collateral."
Anna's knees gave out. She sat without realizing.
"He didn't just leave us," she whispered. "He left me for this?"
"I don't expect you to believe me," Ivan said. "I expect you to remember. When he disappeared, did anyone search too hard? Did the police knock? Did anyone care?"
Anna couldn't breathe.
"My name is not just a threat," he said. "It's a currency. And your father lost everything when he tried to cheat it."
Silence stretched.
Finally, she asked, "What do you want from me?"
Ivan leaned forward.
"Obedience. For now."
Her hands gripped the arms of the chair. "And then what?"
"That depends on how useful you become."
He walked past her and left the room, the echo of his footsteps following her long after he'd disappeared.