"I'm pretty when I cry."

4

I jolted awake, my heart hammering in my chest as I gasped for air, disoriented and shaking. My eyes were wet, sore from crying—or was it from the shock? It felt like everything that had happened was a fevered dream, a nightmare that somehow bled into reality. But the images that flashed through my mind... they weren't just paranoia. They were real.

I looked around in a panic, realizing I was in a strange bed. The dim light barely illuminated the room, and I had no idea where I was. The air felt tight, suffocating. I squinted, trying to get a grip on my surroundings. Something felt off. I opened the window, hoping for a breath of fresh air, but what I saw made my blood run cold.

The view outside wasn't of a street or a city. It was the endless expanse of clouds. I froze. My mind raced, spinning with the possibility. No... no, it couldn't be. I jumped back, my heart seizing in my chest.

I'm on a plane.

Kidnapped.

It wasn't paranoia; it was trauma.

I felt my heart damn near thumping out of my chest, each beat a frantic reminder of how fragile everything was. Tears flooded my eyes again, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.

"Calm down, you need to-to be calm," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling, but the tears wouldn't stop. They kept coming, hot and relentless.

Desperate for something to ground me, I stumbled into the bathroom, my legs barely holding me up. I had to pull it together. I couldn't break down again—not like this—not without knowing what was really happening. I needed to know why I was here, what was going on. The questions spun in my mind, each one sharper than the last.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, horrified by what I saw. I looked like a wreck—my eyes swollen from crying, my hair a tangled mess. I felt like I was staring at someone else.

I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would clear my mind, but it didn't help. I dried my face with a towel, the fabric rough against my skin, but it did little to soothe the storm inside me.

Tommie. Her face flashed in my mind—her blood, her body on the ground, lifeless.

My breath hitched. The memory came rushing back like a tidal wave, choking me, drowning me in guilt and helplessness. My heartbeat raced, my chest tightening as the tears came again, soaking into the towel I pressed against my face.

I couldn't seem to stop crying.

I tried to pull myself together, tried to calm my shaking hands, but it was all too much. The weight of it all—the blood, the gunshot, Tommie's life taken in an instant, the feeling of being trapped on this plane with no answers—was more than I could bear.

What the hell is going on? Am I going to die? How the hell did I even get here?

I wiped my face for the last time, my hands trembling as I fought to keep it together. I needed to know if Stassie and Lynn were okay.

But for now, all I had was fear, uncertainty, and a deep, aching sense of loss.

I looked over to my right saw some basics folded for me. I went ahead and took a shower washing my hair in the process. I don't know what to make of this situation, I can't make a escape plan. I'm literally thousands of feet in the air.

I didn't want to blame myself for what happened to Tommie, but how could I not? Everything is such a mess. I got changed, wrapping my slightly damp hair in a bun.

I gave myself a pep talk in the mirror, "Don't cry, stop crying please. Please just stop," My eyes were still swollen than ever.

I slowly opened the door, peeking out seeing a hallway. How big is this plane, I walked straight while hugging myself, I got closer to the end I heard some laughter. I stepped out, showing myself, all eyes were on me. Here goes nothing.

"There's the lady of the hour," one of the men joked from the couch, his voice rough, a cruel edge to it.

"Brother." The other man's tone was colder, a warning, sharp and deliberate. He had a large tattoo across his eyebrow, dark ink that almost looked like it belonged to a different world—a world I was no part of. I tried not to look too hard at it. I couldn't afford to let my fear show any more than it already had.

Where was Reign? The silence between us thickened, and I couldn't make sense of what was happening.

The man with the tattoo spoke again, his voice quieter now, though no less menacing. "I'm his brother, Roscoe. One of four," I wasn't sure if that meant I should be relieved or even more terrified.

I didn't have a choice. I had to play this carefully, or they might kill me. I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to steady, though it cracked anyway. "O-Okay, nice meeting you, Roscoe... m-may I ask why I'm on a plane?" I muttered softly, the tremor in my voice betraying the fear rising up in my throat. Tears welled up again, I could feel them, but I fought to keep them from spilling over.

Roscoe didn't seem moved by my fear. He leaned back, folding his arms. "Have a seat, sweetheart." His command was firm, cold. I took the chair next to the window, sitting down slowly, my body trembling.

"It's not my place to share any news with you," Roscoe continued, his voice distant and disinterested. "We're just following orders. My brother Reign took a liking to you."

The words hit me like a punch. His brother? What did that mean? Why me?

I shook my head, refusing to accept it, even as the reality of the situation began to crush me. "But... I-I have a life back home. My friend—a girl—she was shot dead. I can't just up and leave like this." My voice cracked as I spoke, desperation flooding my words.

They all just glanced at me, their faces emotionless, unreadable. Roscoe's gaze held no empathy. They were like ghosts—there, but not really. His eyes were cold, impassive.

The tears broke free, hot and fast, streaming down my face. This was all my fault. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs, and I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me. I was going to be sick.

The panic set in again, my breath quick and shallow. "Oh God, I have a new job. My mom—oh no, my mom!" The words rushed out, but they felt meaningless, just a tangled mess of fear and regret.

"Please, sir, I have to go back. Yo-you don't understand."

My sobs felt louder now, almost deafening in the silence of the plane. But no one spoke. No one answered. I was just a helpless mess of emotion, trapped in a world I couldn't understand.

Then, a hand appeared in front of me, holding out a tissue. I looked at it for a moment, unsure whether to trust it or not. My shaking hand slowly reached for it, the tremors so violent I almost missed it. I gripped it tightly, as if it were my last lifeline.

I wiped my tears, but nothing could erase the terror clawing at my insides.

Everyone was silent, while I was here having a huge panic attack not knowing if I was going to live or die. I knew I had to dry all my tears as I'm in the air there's nothing I can do at this moment.

The worst part about it all is I don't know the outcome of this, and there may be no one to save me.

But it soon dawned on me, I don't really have anyone.

A flight attendant came by my side, I wanted so bad to ask for help but I had to be smart about it. She asked if I want a refreshment. I politely told her no, I don't want them thinking anything of me not even vulnerability.

•••

"Madam." A soft voice woke me as she rubbed my shoulder. I must of fell asleep while silently crying, it was the flight attendant.

She gave me a warm smile, but it felt hollow, like a mask. "The plane has landed," she told me softly, her voice almost soothing. "You're the last one on here."

I barely registered the words, my head still spinning from everything that had happened. My mind was a fog of confusion, and my body felt like it was moving on autopilot as I stood up. The door was open. I didn't know where I was, or how long I'd been in the air, but the landscape outside made my heart sink.

The clouds were thick and grey, casting an eerie pallor over everything. It felt like a scene from a nightmare, where everything is just off enough to make you question if it's real.

I stepped off the plane, the cool air hitting my face, but it did little to clear the mess in my mind. There were a few expensive black cars lined up, sleek and intimidating, with men standing around them. Their eyes were on me, watching me like I was prey. My stomach twisted. The man beside the stairs extended his hand to help me down, and I hesitated for just a moment before accepting it.

Then, my eyes landed on it. The orange Hermes shopping bag.

A strange chill washed over me as I realized what it meant. I was being treated like an object. A prize. Something to be bought, to be owned.

I was led away from the plane, my feet moving on their own, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. It wasn't like I had any choice. I was treated like royalty—except not the kind of royalty anyone would envy. More like a prisoner who was being given a show of kindness to mask the fact that she was shackled.

"Sir Gusev sends his dearest apologies for everything that has taken place," one of the men said, his tone polite, but the words felt empty. "He sends a gift in hopes to brighten your mood."

Brighten my mood? Was he serious? A gift? How could he think that a simple gesture could undo the trauma, the horror, the terror of the past night? The man's words were absurd, and yet, here I was, being forced to accept whatever the hell this was.

I couldn't even find my voice. My head was still reeling, processing it all. Confusion mixed with rage and fear.

A man opened the car door for me, and I reluctantly slid inside. The moment I sat down, I was flanked by two armed men. One in the passenger seat, one beside me. Their silence was deafening, their presence suffocating. The stranger holding the Hermes bag gave me a smirk, a look that felt like a command.

Open it.

I stared at the bag for what felt like forever, my mind whirling with a thousand questions. But no matter what it was, it couldn't undo what had happened. It couldn't undo the bloodshed, the loss. I wasn't the same person who had boarded that plane.

A tear rolled down my cheek, but I didn't wipe it away. I couldn't. I was frozen. Frozen in place, staring out the window, unable to tear my eyes from the plane as it faded away.

Then, I saw it.

The name GUSEV emblazoned on the side of the aircraft. My stomach dropped. This is all his doing. This is his world, and somehow I'm caught up in it.

I couldn't keep this gift. No matter how expensive, no matter how thoughtful he thought it was. It wasn't going to erase what had happened. It wasn't going to fix anything. I refused to open it. I stuffed it down by my feet, out of sight, hoping that somehow, pretending it didn't exist might make me feel like I had some control.

I wasn't here because of a gift. I wasn't here because of some mistake. I was here because of Gusev's choices. And I wasn't going to forget that.

The car drove on in silence for what felt like forever, and after what seemed like thirty minutes, it finally slowed. My heart pounded as we pulled up to the front of a tall, gleaming glass building. The architecture was cold and imposing, like everything else in this place.

Like Gusev.

"Welcome to the UK," the man beside me said as he opened the door. His voice was pleasant, but his eyes held nothing but cold indifference.

I was going to be trapped here. There was no turning back now.

I felt my eyes just basically bulge out the sockets. That explains the gloomy skies. I shook my head no, while whispering no the one word I could say. I was full blown crying, just breaking down in front of this man I don't even know.

The man smile began to fade as he reached out gently grabbed my hands telling me to breathe.

Eventually my breathing was back on track, I didn't want to speak to anyone at this moment. I wanted to make a run for it, however I had these two guards by my side, they could potentially gun me down.

"You'll be okay Ms Martin, your a smart girl I know it." The driver gave me a reassuring smile before handing me the orange shopping bag. Something in his eyes told me to take heed for what's next.

Security lead me to the elevator before sending me up. I entered into this huge penthouse, and there stood Reign.

A handsome but deadly, psychotic, but charming face.

I frustratedly stepped out the elevator taking in my surroundings, while threatening my tears not to fall.

"Sorry for the delay. I see Lionel gave you the gift for your trouble." A smooth smile curled on his lips. I chuckled, feeling like I was losing my mind. And of course, the tears followed. I dropped the bag to the floor.

"Reign, j-just last night, I saw my friend get sh-shot. Now I've been brought to the other s-side of the world. This is... this is so not okay," I whispered softly, each word sinking in as I realized what I had just said out loud.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He gently placed both hands under my ears, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs before wiping away my tears.

"That girl died at your friend's expense, I don't tolerate disrespect Amina. You'll learn eventually. Though I do prefer making people live with the quilt of what happens when make the wrong choices." He kisses my forehead.

"I could take their life but there's no real harm done is there?" A last light peck on my lips, taking my hand in his.

"Come, the chef has finished up."

I'm a little taken aback. How is it that this man remains so calm, as if everything he's done is perfectly normal? We sat down at the dinner table—Reign at the head, me at his side. Everything was arranged beautifully: the lighting was soft and intimate, and the food smelled absolutely delicious.

It was quiet, normally I would say a comfortable silence, but I was far from comfortable.

"Reign, I appreciate everything b-but I must get home, I haven't spoken with my mom or Stassie." I softly said as gently as I can. He took a moment before responding.

"Your home is here with me now Amina. I want you here everything is being taken cared of, and don't worry littlr one, you'll speak with them soon enough."

That was not the reassurance I wanted. I mustered up the courage so speak what was weighing heavily on my mind.

"Y-you can't just kidnap me and think I'll be okay living like this. I-I'm not some property, I refuse to say here with you this is insa—," just that quick his hand gripped my throat making me fall on the ground. My hands grabbed on to his trying to get him off but the more I struggled the more he squeezed.

He brought me to my knees knelt before him.

"My warning wasn't enough nyet? Your done disrespecting me Amina. What did I fucking tell you at the office hm?" Reign was slowly crushing my throat, his accent so thick it was threatening. I saw the veins on his arm grow until I couldn't I'm starting to pass out. I was so sorry, I'm trying my best to keep my eyes open.

"I will learn, I know I-I belong to you." I choked out with no air way to speak or breathe.

He smirked. "Already being such a good girl," he praised, before gently letting go of me and grabbing my jaw. I gasped, greedily inhaling air, coughing from the exhaustion. I needed to soothe the area, but the intense look he gave me made it clear I shouldn't raise my hand.

A lone tear fell, but I refused to continue to cry in front of him. He wanted me to kiss him, reluctantly I kissed him back feeling deeply afraid and scared for my life.

•••