Chapter 25: Dark Obsession: Chapter 25

The van screeches to a halt, jolting me forward, and I brace myself, feeling every bruise and scrape from where I’d been thrown around.

The doors open and I’m yanked out. I’m barely able to stand. My eyes struggle to adjust to the light outside as I’m half-dragged, half-pushed toward a sleek black sedan parked nearby. Cold rain patters down, soaking my hair, chilling me to the bone.

Two men shove me into the sedan’s passenger seat. As soon as I’m in, they snap the ropes around me again, tighter than before. I glance over to see a man with flat, cold eyes sitting behind the wheel. At first, I’m confused, but then I realize what’s going on – they’re switching cars, making me harder to track.

His gaze pins me in place as he reaches over to fasten my seatbelt. Yeah right, like he’s sincerely concerned for my safety.

‘Where are you taking me?’ I demand. He says nothing, his mouth set in a thin, merciless line.

I ask again, louder. ‘Where are you taking me?’

Still no answer, just a flash of irritation in his eyes. Frustration bubbles up, and I snap, ‘Look, there are people looking for me. You’re only making this worse for yourself.’

Without warning, he reaches over and smacks me across the face. The shock reverberates through my body, leaving my cheek throbbing, my ears ringing. I bite back a cry, fury mingling with fear as silence settles over us.

Whoever this man is, he’s not interested in chitchat.

The car glides through Chicago’s wet streets, the city lights casting eerie reflections on the rain-streaked windows. My cheek throbs from the slap, and I can feel a bruise forming. Every time I shift in my seat, the ropes dig deeper into my wrists, scraping my skin raw.

I look out the window, trying to memorize street signs, landmarks—anything that might help me figure out where I’m being taken. We’re moving toward the outskirts of town, where the lights are fewer and the buildings more decrepit. An abandoned industrial area comes into view, and I have a sinking feeling that is our destination.

‘Let me go,’ I say quietly, fighting to keep my voice steady. ‘If you release me now, I won’t report anything to the cops or my brothers. Just let me walk away. This is your chance to save yourself.”

My captor glances at me, his gaze cold and disinterested. He seems amused by my words, but he doesn’t respond. I swallow hard, feeling helpless but refusing to show him any fear.

As we drive deeper into the district, I realize I’m nothing more than cargo to him, an item to be delivered. The thought sends a chill down my spine, especially when the car finally stops in front of an old warehouse. The man exits the car, walks around to my side, and opens the door, dragging me out without a word and tossing me over his shoulder.

Inside the warehouse, it’s darker than I expected, dim lights barely illuminating the concrete floor. The smell of old machinery and oil hangs in the air, mixed with something colder, darker, a sense of evil that sets my nerves on edge.

My captor carries me down a narrow hallway through a maze of twists and turns. Finally, we reach a door at the end guarded by two hulking figures. They open the door without a word, and I’m dropped inside—literally.

The room is sparse, a simple table and chairs in the center, dwarfed by the presence of a man standing along the far wall. He’s impeccably dressed in a suit that screams wealth and power, his silver hair slicked back, a calculating gleam in his cold, dark eyes. I recognize him instantly from the photos I found online.

Oscar Molina.

My stomach twists as he casts his eyes over me, assessing, weighing. A slow, almost mocking smile spreads across his face as he walks toward me with deliberate, measured steps, each one echoing through the empty room.

‘Elena Ivanova,’ he says smoothly. ‘It’s truly an honor.’

I grit my teeth, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I can muster. “If this is your idea of hospitality, it’s severely lacking.”

He chuckles, unamused and detached. ‘Ah, you have the Ivanov fire. Good. I admire a woman with spirit. Though I imagine, once this little conversation is over, you’ll have a bit less of it.’

He tells his man to cut the bindings on my legs and gestures to one of the chairs at the table, as if this were a cordial meeting. ‘Please, sit.’

I glance at the chair, resisting the urge to tell him exactly where he can shove it. But with his menacing glare fixed on me; I don’t see much choice. I sit, keeping my posture rigid, refusing to look intimidated.

Oscar takes a seat across from me, steepling his fingers as he gives me a faint smile. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this moment, meeting the infamous Ivanov princess in person. So much power in such a delicate package.’

I narrow my eyes. “Really? All this effort, just to kidnap a delicate package? Pathetic.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, his smile growing more menacing. “The bravado is admirable, mi Elena, but wasted. You see, I know what your family holds dear. I know what would destroy them.”

His words hit like a gut punch, but I refuse to give him a reaction. “If you think taking me is going to do that, then you’re as delusional as you are outdated.”

He leans forward, his face inches from mine. “You think I’m outdated? I built an empire before you were even born, controlled territories your family wouldn’t dare enter. And now that I’m back, I’m going to ensure the Ivanovs understand exactly what it means to challenge me.”

Genuine fear wells up inside, but I push it down, meeting his eyes with steely defiance.

“You think you’re scary, don’t you? You think kidnapping me is going to give you some kind of leverage? You don’t know my brothers.”

Oscar chuckles darkly, a sound devoid of humor. “Oh, I know them very well. And if they value your life, they’ll reconsider going to war. They’ll soon realize that no matter how far they go, they’ll never truly be beyond my grasp.”

I swallow, feeling a chill creep up my spine. “You’re underestimating them,” I say, trying to sound confident, but Oscar’s eyes continue to gleam with evil amusement.

“Am I?” Oscar’s smirk widens as he leans back, clearly savoring my discomfort. “You know, I’ve waited a long time to get my hands on Grigori Petrov. Tell me, how well do you really know your bodyguard?”

My hands clench and unclench, my knuckles white against the restraints. “Whatever you think you know, whatever game you’re playing, I can assure you it won’t work. This conversation is doing nothing but proving how desperate you are.”

He sighs, feigning disappointment, though the look in his eyes says otherwise. “So much potential wasted on loyalty. Your family raised you well. They’re clever, I’ll give them that. But cleverness won’t save you. I’m here for revenge, and I have a particular type in mind when it comes to Grigori.

“Grigori owes me a debt he can’t pay, but you… you’ll do nicely to remind him what he’s cost me, starting with my family.”

I meet his stare defiantly, refusing to let his words sink in, even as terror gnaws at me. “If you think I’m just a pawn, then you clearly don’t know me,” I tell him.

Oscar’s smile turns sinister. “You think you’re special? That your bravery will change anything? Let me make something very clear.” He leans in closer, his eyes dark and unyielding. “I don’t care who I have to go through. I don’t care who dies. You and your family are simply tools for me to demonstrate my strength to this city, to quench my thirst for revenge. And soon enough, your brothers will be begging me to take control, to finish the war I’m about to begin.”

Another shiver runs down my spine, but I refuse to look away, unwilling to show any weakness. “Keep dreaming, Molina. My family won’t bow to you. Not now, not ever.”

He laughs, genuinely amused this time. “Oh, my dear, you really are an Ivanov. But that’s precisely what will make breaking you—and your family—all the more satisfying.”

Oscar stands, giving a slight nod to the guard at the door. “Get her ready. We’re moving soon.”

I’m hauled to my feet, every instinct screaming at me to fight, to run, but with his guards looming nearby, I know it would be futile. Oscar watches me with a look that chills me to the core, like he’s already savoring the moment when he’ll dismantle everything my family’s built.

“You should feel honored,” he says with a cold smirk. “You’re the first Ivanov I’m taking down. Soon, I’ll work my way through the rest of the family. And when everyone he cares about is dead at his feet, perhaps I’ll extend Grigori a small mercy and end his life—perhaps.”

I glare at him, fury and fear clashing within. “You’re delusional.”

He chuckles again, his cold eyes never leaving my face. “Es possible. But soon enough, you’ll realize how outmatched you all are.”

As they lead me out, his words echo in my mind, terrifying promises that linger long after I’m dragged away.