Chapter Four: I'll do anything
Isa woke properly when she saw him sitting on the sofa. He had been there the whole time, elbows on his knees, watching her like a predator watches its prey. For a moment she felt frozen, like he'd been staring at her for hours.
She scrambled to the edge of the bed. "Were you… sitting there all night?" she asked, voice shaky.
He didn't look at her at first. He stood and walked to the window. Sunlight slipped through the curtains. He rested his palms on the sill and said, casual and cold, "I had my men check you out."
Isa's heart hit her ribs. "You… you did?"
He did not turn. "They searched your bag. They checked your phone. They watched the alley camera. They found nothing that links you to my rivals." He paused. "fortunately, for you, youare not a spy."
Hope burned up inside Isa like a small warm light. Relief nearly knocked the breath out of her. "So, so you'll set me free? You'll let me go?" She could not hide how quickly she believed it.
He finally faced her. The look on his face was unreadable. "You happened to stumble upon my business unplanned," he said slowly. "How unlucky "
Isa stood and moved closer without thinking. Her voice rushed out. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I swear I won't tell anyone. Not a single soul. Not Clara, Not even..." Her throat closed. "Not even my cat Anastasia." She forced a weak smile, thinking of her orange tabby. "Please. I won't say anything about that day. I promise."
He gave a small, humorless sound. "How do I know you won't go telling people what you witnessed?" His voice was flat. No warmth. No humor. "I can't take the risk."
Something cold slid through Isa like ice. "You can't..." she began.
He cut her off. "So the option now is simple." He walked closer. His shadow fell over her. His voice dropped, dangerous and slow. "I can end you now and have your corpse thrown into the sea."
She lost balance as if struck. Her knees threatened to buckle. "No! no! no! Please" She dropped to her knees quickly without thinking. Tears fell hot and loud. Her whole body shook.
"Please, please don't kill me. I'll do anything. Anything. I beg you," she sobbed, words tumbling out.
He watched her. His face did not soften. He asked like a judge, cold and steady: "You say you'll do anything. What do you have?" He crossed his arms. "What can you give me that will make you worth keeping alive?"
Isa grabbed at air, desperate. "I have… I can work. I can do anything. I'll sign papers. I'll keep quiet. I'll..." Her voice broke again. She hated how small she sounded.
He stepped back and looked past her toward the hall where two men waited by the door. He spoke a short command in Russian.
"Следите за ней." (Watch her.)
One of the men gave a single nod and eased closer. Isa watched them like they were vultures.
He turned his cold gaze back to her. He spoke now in slow English, every word like a test. "You have nothing of worth. So what can you do, Miss Isabella Torres?"
Isa's chest constricted. She had no money here. No phone. No passport. No one. She wanted to shout that she was harmless, that she would be useful in small ways schedule, run errands, tidy rooms, anything to be alive.
Her mind raced. She had promised herself to play it by ear. That promise steadied her hands like iron.
She swallowed hard and forced a calm voice. "I can work for you," she said. "I can keep quiet. I can...learn. I can do whatever you need me to do. Just...let me live."
He watched her for a long beat, then let out a short, almost amused breath. "We shall see." He lifted his hand and gestured. The man by the door stepped forward.
Isa felt every second like a lifetime. She had moved from hope to terror in one quick moment. She had tried to believe him. Now she knew the truth: she wasn't free. Not today. Not ever, if he didn't want her to be.
She thought of home, of Anastasia, of the small beach house she once dreamed about. None of that mattered here. The only thing that mattered was the man in front of her and the choice he would make.
He turned away again, walked to the table, and picked up a glass. He drank without looking back. "Eat," he said to the man close to him in Russian.
"Поешьте." (Eat.)
The man obeyed, then glared once at Isa as if she were a stain that could not be scrubbed out.
Isa swallowed. She felt hollow, but this hollow had a shape now, a plan. She'll do anything as long as she survives. She'll watch. Learn. and play it by ear.
She rose slowly from the floor, knees weak. She met his eyes for a second, and in that small moment, she made that promise again, softer this time, sure: I will survive tomorrow. I will see what comes after.
He didn't look at her when he said, almost to himself, "Good." Then he walked away, leaving her on her knees with trembling hands and a heart that would not stop beating.