Ch 39: Everyone Has a Price
The east wing was a labyrinth of unused rooms and forgotten corridors.
Elena had come to this part of the mansion during that meeting with Valentina, but she never explored this far. The corridors here were narrower, the wallpaper peeling in the corners. Grey light filtered through a grimy window at the end of the hall.
"The sunroom is at the end," Greta exclaimed excitedly. "Timothy said it's beautiful at dawn. All these windows facing the sea—can you imagine?"
Elena let herself be led, a small smile tugging at her lips. Greta had burst in early this morning asking her to accompany her, and Elena was happy to indulge.
"Timothy said to meet him there," Greta had explained, her cheeks pink. "He said he wanted to show me something."
Elena glanced at Greta's eager face as they wound through the unfamiliar corridors. Yesterday, Timothy had been kind to Greta in the kitchen. It was natural, she supposed, that he would want to share something beautiful with her.
But as they walked further, Elena's steps slowed and her smile began to faded.
Her sixth sense—honed in her father's house and sharpened during her early days in this mansion—made her wary. The last time she had passed the east wing, she had seen a few maids and servants going about their work. Now the corridors were empty.
But Timothy didn't have that authority to clear an entire wing. He could give orders to lower-ranking men, but he didn't have a say in affairs inside the mansion. That required someone higher.
Something was wrong.
Greta, oblivious, hurried ahead. Her eyes lit up as she spotted a door just ahead. "It must be through there!"
Elena's hand shot out and caught Greta's arm. The girl turned, confused.
"Sister? What—"
Elena quickly pressed a finger to her lips.
Then she heard them. Voices. Low, muffled, coming from behind the door.
"—Kazimir's position is weaker than he thinks."
Dante. Warm and mellifluous like poison wrapped in silk. The voice was unmistakable.
Greta's eyes went wide. She squeezed Elena's hand as she whispered: ‘What's he doing here?’
Elena didn't have an answer. She indicated for Greta to quiet before she stepped closer to the door. She heard a second voice—a man she had heard before in the mansion, though she couldn't place a name to it.
"Kazimir's men are loyal," the second man said. "Nikolai won't turn. Neither will the others."
Nikolai? Elena frowned. Why is Dante mentioning him?
"He is just a child playing at war," Dante said. "He believes in loyalty. In honor. But everyone has a price. Everyone has something they want badly enough to betray anything."
"And Valentina? What do you intend to do?"
"She's been misbehaving, but she won't be causing us issues."
Silence. Then—
"That girl," the other man said. "Did Kazimir really accept her?"
"The boy has never had something to lose." Dante chuckled. "That kind of love is a weakness."
"I see. So you intend to use her as bait. " The other man's voice was eager. "When do we start?"
"The weather has delayed him, we will wait," Dante said. "How are the accounts?"
"The papers you gave contained all the information. With her signature, the property transfers and Zurich accounts went without a hitch."
"Good." Dante's voice sharpened. The sound of a glass being set down. "Now we're just wait for the right moment. When Kazimir is back, there will—"
Elena didn't here the rest. She saw it—a shadow moved beneath the door. Someone inside had approached the entrance.
Elena didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Greta's hand and ran.
Behind them, a door suddenly slammed open. Voices shouted. Footsteps pounded—more than two pairs. Three. Four.
"Which way did they go?"
"Find them! They couldn't have gone far!"
The corridor blurred around her—peeling wallpaper, closed doors, the grimy window at the end of the hall that let in a slice of grey light. Elena turned a corner. Narrower, darker, no windows. They reached a junction—three corridors branching off into darkness.
She pulled Greta forward.
But the girl was not used to this level of activity. She stumbled, catching herself on the wall. Her face was drained of color. "I can't," she gasped. "I can't, Sister—"
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Elena shook her head in dismay, trying to drag her forward again. But Greta's legs wouldn't hold. The girl was sobbing now, her body limp with fear.
Behind them, voices and footsteps grew closer.
Elena looked around quickly. She spotted a door—set into a recessed alcove just down the hall. She dragged Greta toward it and pushed her inside. Brooms and mops clattered against the girl's shins.
‘Stay here,’ Elena mouthed urgently. ‘Don't move. Don't make a sound. Understood? I'll lead them away.’
Greta's hand shot out, grabbing Elena's sleeve. "No—Sister, please—"
But Elena didn't wait any longer. She closed the door on Greta's terrified face and ran. Alone, she was faster.
"Over there!"
"I see someone!"
She turned a corner—
And ran straight into a wall of muscles. An arm wrapped around her waist, catching her fall.
Elena reacted immediately, recalling her training. She drove her elbow back sharply and connected with something solid.
The voice grunted. The arm around her tightened but didn't release. "Lady Elena. Stop, it's me."
Nikolai.
Why is he here? Elena's mind raced. Was he in that room? Her hand moved toward the dagger in her pocket.
"Timothy doesn't have business in the east wing. Never." Nikolai's voice was low and urgent in her ear. "When I saw him slip away after his shower, I followed. I didn’t think he would be meeting you." His grip tightened. "Kazimir will hear about this. Meeting another man while your husband is away. Do you know how—"
Meeting Timothy? Elena froze, she didn't hear the rest.
If he thought she was meeting with Timothy, then he wasn't part of the conspiracy. He's here for a different reason entirely. Her hand relaxed on the dagger.
"Hey! I think I hear voices! This way!" Shouts echoed from the corridor behind them.
Nikolai's expression sharpened. He looked toward the direction of the shouts, then back at her. His eyes widened slightly. "What—"
‘We need to move! Now!’ Elena mouthed, yanking at his arm.
He didn't argue. He shifted his grip—one arm around her waist, the other beneath her thighs—and lifted her. She protested, kicking, driving her elbow into his ribs. He grunted but didn't let go. He shouldered open a door and carried her inside.
A closet, barely wide enough for one person. Nikolai set her down but didn't release her. His body pinned her against the wall, one hand over her mouth, the other braced beside her head. In the darkness, his face was inches from hers. His weight pressed her deeper into the shadows.
Elena shoved at his chest. Nikolai winced but didn't move. She hated it. She hated being trapped, hated the darkness, hated the press of his body against hers. The cellar rose in her memory—the hands, the weight, the helplessness.
"Listen to me," he breathed, barely audible. "They're still out there. If you run now, they'll catch you."
Outside, footsteps approached. Voices close enough to hear individual words.
"Check the side corridor. They couldn't have vanished."
Elena went still. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure they could hear it.
No. Not now, Elena. Not now. She dug her nails into her palm, grounding herself. She forced herself to breathe slowly. To focus on the sounds outside instead of the memories in her head.
The footsteps stopped outside their door. A shadow of boots appeared in the thin line of light beneath.
"Anything?"
"Let me check."
The handle began to turn. Elena's fingers wrapped around the dagger's hilt. Beside her, Nikolai's breath was slow and controlled, waiting.
Then—
"They're on the other side! I heard something!" A voice shouted further down the corridor.
The handle paused. The shadow hesitated, then moved away. Footsteps retreated. Voices faded.
Silence returned and stretched. One minute. Two.
Nikolai exhaled. His forehead dropped against the wall beside her head. "Kazimir will kill me for letting you into danger," he muttered.
But the moment, Elena thought the men passed, she shoved past him. She wrenched the door open and started back toward where she had left Greta.
"Hey! Where are you going?" Nikolai's hand closed around her wrist.
‘Let go,’ she mouthed, yanking free.
"Elena." His voice was sharper now, edged with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair. "I saw Timothy heading this way. I'm sorry. But you have to explain so I can understand." He gestured at the corridor behind them, toward where the men had gone. "What is this? Who are they?"
She turned to face him. ‘Later. Greta. I left her in a closet. We need to go back.'
A flicker of realization flashed in his eyes. Then he nodded. "Alright. Lead the way."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
They moved through the corridors in silence. Elena led with Nikolai close behind. They soon found the corridor.
But the closet door was open.
Elena's mind refused to accept it. The alcove was empty. Mops and brooms lay scattered on the floor.
No!
She broke into a run. She reached the door and stared inside as if Greta might somehow be hiding behind a bucket. But the space was too small for that. There was nowhere to hide.
No, no, no—
Her breath came in short gasps. Her hands shook. She thought of Greta's terrified face as she closed the door. She had left her. She had left her alone. And now—
"Elena." Nikolai's voice came from behind her. "Look."
She spun around.
Greta was standing at the end of the corridor, her face buried in Timothy's chest. His arms were wrapped around her, one hand stroking her back.
Elena's legs nearly gave out. She stumbled forward and pulled Greta from Timothy's arms. The girl was trembling, tear-streaked, breathing in hiccups.
‘You're safe,’ Elena mouthed against her hair. ‘You're safe. You're safe.’
Greta sobbed into her shoulder. Elena held her, making small soothing sounds. Over the girl's head, she saw Timothy and Nikolai exchange a look—some silent communication.
Then Nikolai turned to her. His expression had softened. "We need to get you both somewhere safe. My place. It's closer than your room, and it's secure. We can guard you until Kazimir returns tonight."
Elena's eyes widened. ‘Tonight?’
Nikolai nodded. "Word came through this morning. The storm's cleared. He'll be back by nightfall."
Tonight. Nine days of empty hallways, of waking to a cold bed. Now the waiting had an end.
She looked at Greta, still trembling. Then at Nikolai. She nodded once.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 5/12/26