Ch 46: The Hidden Blade
The first thing Elena became aware of was the deep, pervasive cold sinking into her bones. The second was the vibration: a low, rhythmic hum beneath her cheek.
It took her sluggish mind a long moment to place it.
A ship. I'm on a ship.
She forced her eyes open. She lay on a hard bunk, her wrists digging into the small of her back. When she shifted, coarse hemp scraped her skin. Her ankles were bound too.
The chemical fog was receding, leaving a throbbing headache and a dry mouth. Her hip ached. Her ribs protested. Her right ankle stung.
She lay in the dim sway of lamplight, forcing her eyes to adjust. The ship creaked around her. Water lapped against the hull.
Then a metallic groan cut through the quiet, followed by the heavy thud of a latch thrown open. Footsteps approached. A man stepped inside.
It was the man in the grey suit.
He was supposed to be their prisoner. Instead, she had become his. Dante had executed the play with infuriating precision.
The man in grey pulled a chair from beside the table and sat, crossing one leg over the other. “Mrs. Volkov,” he said. “I am Valli. Consigliere to the Conti family.”
Understanding clicked into place: the Conti family—the ones who attacked the marina. Were they working with Dante all along?
But Elena didn’t let recognition show. A frightened captive was easier to manage and overlook. She let her eyes widen and her breath hitch, playing the frightened, confused girl.
"Dante told me about you," Valli continued, his eyes scanning her with clinical detachment. "He said you'd grown stronger. But have you?"
In reply, Elena let a tremor to pass through her bound hands.
Valli studied her a moment longer. Then he gave a dismissive snort. "Dante worries too much. You don't look like a skeleton anymore, but you're still the same. Frightened. Mute. Helpless."
The man leaned back in the chair, at ease now.
"Here's how this works. If you cooperate, then you can stay comfortable. But if you don't? We have plenty of ways to make you obey."
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Elena gave her most obedient nod.
"Good." Valli's gaze flickered with satisfaction. Then he leaned forward, letting his hands rest loosely on his knee. "Your father. Giovanni. Tell me about him."
This time, Elena was genuinely confused. Was her father also part of the equation?
'I don't know,' she mouthed, shaking her head.
"Nothing?" Valli's voice sharpened.
'Nothing. After he sent me away, I haven't been in contact.'
Valli studied her. She held his gaze with wide, frightened eyes.
"Of course you wouldn't know." He leaned back, interest waning. "After you married to the Volkov boy, Giovanni went missing."
Elena thought of her father. He had always been careless, always pushing his luck at card tables. It was only a matter of time before he pushed too far and offended the wrong person.
Not that she cared. Whatever had happened to Giovanni—wherever he had stumbled off to—it wasn't her problem anymore.
My real family is the Volkovs, she thought. Not the man who raised me with violence.
Valli watched her blank face and found nothing. He sighed and rose, adjusting his suit. "Think about it. Maybe something comes back."
He crossed to the door and pulled it open. Before he could step out, a guard appeared in the threshold.
"Signor Valli," the guard said in a low voice. "Thirty minutes, maybe less. We're approaching the harbor."
Valli gave a curt nod. He cast one last glance at Elena—still limp, still blank—then stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him. He did not lock the door.
Elena waited until his footsteps faded, then let out a slow breath. Her act had worked. He saw her as too pathetic to bother securing.
Thirty minutes. Once they dock, I can get on land and escape. But first, the ropes.
She twisted her wrists. The hemp gave some stretch, enough that she could reach for her dagger—ever since Valentina's warning, Elena had kept it close; now, it proved to be a necessary precaution.
She rolled onto her side and bent her arms as far as they would go. Her bound fingers fumbled through the slit in her ruined gown until they brushed against the leather strap on her thigh. She curled her fingers around the handle and drew the blade free.
Then she angled the dagger toward the rope around her wrists and began to saw.
Time passed. The ship's rhythm changed. The engines dropped to a lower growl.
"Prepare to dock! Fifteen minutes!" someone shouted from above.
The shout pushed Elena faster. She kept sawing until the fibers parted beneath the red dagger's edge. She slipped one hand free, then the other. The skin beneath was raw and burning, but she didn't stop. She bent forward and sawed at the bonds around her ankles. The hemp parted faster this time.
She slid the red dagger back into the leather sheath on her thigh. The familiar weight settled against her thigh, hidden from sight.
Then she kicked off her left slipper and rose on unsteadily on her bare feet, bracing one hand against the metal wall. She waited a few seconds for the blood to return to her legs before she tip-toed to the door and pressed her ear to it.
For a long moment, nothing. Then footsteps. Two sets, somewhere to her left, moving away. The tread was heavy—the kind of boots guards wore. They didn't pause at her door, just kept walking.
She listened harder. A low murmur of voices drifted from farther down the corridor, too distant to make out words. More footsteps, lighter this time, coming from the opposite direction. Crossing. Passing. Then a door groaned open somewhere above, followed by its loud clang when shut.
She counted to thirty. No new sounds near her door. No breathing on the other side. No guards more guards.
Now!
Elena slowly eased the door open and stepped out.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 5/18/26