M.

It was the sound of water flowing monotonously somewhere in proximity and a cold breeze carrying the smell of winter, that woke her up.

Mila opened her eyes and closed them again in shock.

Where in God's name am I?

Everything was foreign in her surroundings and... breathtakingly beautiful. An immense glass wall was framing the landscape. The morning sun was raising from behind the mountains and the tall fir trees, making the fresh snow shine like diamonds. 

The was a man outside on the balcony, leaning against the glass door. His hair was shoulder long, black, and wavy. It was not any man but one she met recently. 

Ángel... Why did he bring me here?

Slowing she started taking in everything else. Her hands and feet were tied together with plastic bands that chaffed a bit. Human trafficking was the first thing that came to her mind.

What else could it be?

Fear took over and she started crying slowly, cursing herself for having been so stupid to get into that car.

It was Saturday; she didn't have to be at work and Dasha was probably still with her date. She would not notice till later that she was gone. Till then she could be on her way to God knows where or cut in pieces for organs, or killed by a rich sadist for fun.

The latest made somehow more sense given the luxury mansion in the middle of nowhere she seemed to be in.

Strangely, she was not gagged.

"A... Angel?" Her throat felt dry and rough. Her voice was only a hint more than a whisper.

He turned his head and entered, closing the balcony door.

"Mila, I am really sorry I had to do that."

Tears gathered in her eyes. 

"What? Why? What are going to do with me?" she asked almost hysterically. 

"I actually don't know. I suppose keeping you here for a while."

"Angel, you have to let me go. Untie me. Please. I don't want to die," she said between sobs.

"No, we don't want you to die either, that's why you are here. It's just that the whole story is a bit... complicated to explain," sighed Angel.

Angel seemed nervous; he was constantly looking at the door or out the window.

"I beg you to let me go. You do not seem to be a bad person. I know deep down you aren't. Please. I beg you," said Mila.

Her eyes were reddened by crying, making the green of her irises pop out even more.

Angel looked at her somehow disturbed, covering his nose and mouth.

"Fuck... Christ in heaven! And I do not even like girls," he muttered to himself, exited, and locked the room.

Mila started screaming for help but got exhausted in the process and fell asleep between sobs.

She woke up to Ángel saying her name softly. He was carrying a tray with food. Eggs, bacon, bread that seemed freshly baked, and fruit, were spread on a silver tablet. Her stomach made an acknowledging sound.

The watch on her wrist showed six pm. She hadn't eaten since the evening before. 

"Eat. We have to discuss stuff after."

"I don't want to. How can I know there are no drugs in the food?" she said spitefully.

"Because you are tied up and if I wanted to, I could inject them or force them into your mouth. Since I don't..." said Ángel smirking.

He has a point here. By now Dasha must think something is wrong. I hope they will take her seriously at the police station and don't dismiss her because she is an immigrant.

"You must untie me. How else can I eat?" she said grumpily.

"Fine, I will untie your arms, but don't do anything stupid, ok?"

"Fine," she answered pouting. It was a first victory and a small chance might arise for her to escape.

Angel cut the bands on her wrist and put the tray on her lap.

She took a cautious bite. The food was amazing. A symphony of flavors was filling her mouth.

"Oh wow, these eggs are amazing."

"Thanks," said Ángel blushing. "Huevos rancheros. My abuela's recipe."

"Great. You didn't tell me where you are actually from," said Mila.

"Mexico."

Great. I might be in the hands of an f-ing cartel. Bravo Mila! If the Serbian pimps didn't get you, you thought about getting involved with exotic mobsters.

"Interesting," she muttered between bites.

Might be the last hours of my life and all but the boy can cook. This is a fabulous last meal.

Angel walked to the terrace door looking outside to the evening sky. He seemed relaxed. 

There was only a butter knife but if she pushed hard and fast she could cut the plastic band on her legs.

One, two, three, go...

Mila hit the band furiously and it broke indeed; it was not a very tight one.

Taking advantage of likely the only chance, she ran out the door at fast as she could towards what looked like a staircase.

Angel was screaming in the distance.

"Mila stop! He is going to kill me if something is going to happen to you!"

His footsteps were getting closer. Recklessly Mila decided to jump off the railing to the floor below to gain some advantage. It was only one floor after all so she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and jumped.

Unexpectedly there wasn't any floor to land on, only two strong arms catching her.

"Now who would have thought I would get such a spontaneous introduction? Enchanting meeting you, Milena," said a deep voice.

I literally jumped into the arms of another captor. I am an idiot.  Shit. Who knows how many still are in this house?

He was tall, very muscular, and his gold-blond hair was cropped short framing his sculptured face. His features were stern but he was certainly very handsome. So were all men Mila seemed to meet lately. She questioned if it wasn't just her and if Dasha was right about getting finally laid.

That was however not the right place for such a monologue.

"Dios mio, you caught her. I thought I was going to have a heart attack," said Ángel that was already there.

"Tell me about it. We would never have heard the end of it," sighed the blond man rolling his eyes at an imaginary creature. "Ok, girl. We are not playing games here. Angel will bring you your cellphone and you will text, not call, your roommate and tell her you left back for your home country because you hate it here," said the man addressing Mila this time, while he was climbing the stairs holding her as if she weighed nothing.

He let her down on the bed, handed her the phone, and pointed a gun at her head, with such casualty it made Mila almost burst into tears.

It was not a game; he had a real gun. It was not enough that he was tall and strong and could overpower her easily, he had a gun...

"Ok write and make it convincing, unless you want us to go get her too," he said frowning.

Angel was looking over her screen. There was no chance to call nine-one-one so fast.

No, I don't have to let them get to Dasha. But how to make her believe I returned voluntarily home?

She lied about her mother being sick and dying and prayed that the retribution of karma would not reach her. It was a clumsy lie but the only thing she could up with on the spot that made halfway sense. It was not that she had much love for her mother but didn't want her dead either. As strange as it felt, she would have chosen Dasha over her family anytime.

A sigh escaped her lips when she pressed 'send'.

"I went over to your place and took some of your clothes to make it look truthful. Angel will bring them up. You can take a shower and go to bed. Tomorrow we can talk. Don't try to escape. Angel will guard the balcony and I will be down the hall, so don't bother. If you try, we will shoot you."

Mila was angry with the ridiculous situation she was in.

I am poor, my parents don't care and I just shut down the only person that might look for me. That's why I am here, they want people nobody will look for. They are going to do something horrible, maybe harvest my organs. But apparently not right now. I should act docile and escape when they get negligent if they don't kill me till then.

"Where is the shower?" she asked.

Angel pointed to a door to her left.

She entered the room and was struck again by the strange beauty of the place.

Same as the bedroom, the bathroom had a glass wall framing the woods near the house in a picturesque portrait. The mist was lifting from between the trees in a breathtakingly epic image while a small river was making its way into the picture, disappearing under the house.

Mila walked bewitched to the window and saw how this wing of the house was expanding in a console over the stream that cascaded down in several small waterfalls.

Sadistic maniac with impeccable taste.

She had never seen such a beautiful house before, not even in her dreams. If these would be the last days of her life they seemed oddly comfortable.

She entered the open shower. It was sleek and minimal, made of dark marble and elegantly shaped metal fixtures.

It felt as divine as it looked.

While the warm water was streaming over her, she remembered the apartment of her parents in Serbia. Now it seemed even smaller and poorer. They often had issues with warm water because her mother wasted the money for bills on clothes.

It is not the worst way to go... 

The blond man apparently also brought her toothbrush and other things from the apartment in London.

Damn it. Dasha will really think I left.

After drying her hair and getting dressed she exited the bathroom. Only Angel was in the room; the blond man was gone.

Angel was not looking at her so she seized the moment and stepped out on the terrace.

The air was crisp on her damp skin. She pressed her hoodie closer to her skin and walked towards the railing.
The surroundings were wild and in the distance, she could see the peak of a snow-covered mountain.

Besides the breathtaking nature, something else drew her attention. A black Jeep parked in front of the house and the blond man from before walked out to meet whoever was driving it.

Another man exited the car and greeted her captor with a handshake.

He stopped immediately like struck by lightning, took his sunglasses off, and looked her way.

Their looks locked. It felt like Mila could not breathe for an instant.

He must be... Important.

Her better judgment told her to go back inside but she couldn't move. She just stood there observing the new man... his glance, his golden skin, the dark hair. He was tall, even taller than the blond one that seemed really tall to Mila. His chest was broad and his arms muscular. He had the constitution of a warrior and the angriest look on his face she had ever seen.

Fear crept under her skin, so she turned away in the end and went back inside.

Angel was looking at her slightly annoyed.

"What? Am I supposed to stay locked in here forever? Is that your boss outside? I want to talk to him."

"That is not possible," said Ángel.

"What do you want from me?" she screamed exasperated. "Just let me go! Please! If I don't show up to work on Monday they will fire me. I need the money. My parents need the money. Have mercy! There is nothing I can offer you. You want to sell me into prostitution?" she continued between sobs.

Ángel's face softened. He came and closed her into his arms stroking her hair.

"I am sorry. We have to keep you here, even if we might not totally agree with the orders."

"What am I supposed to do now?" she asked.

"Wait and enjoy this house, till he decides what to do. Can I bring you something? Do you have a hobby or so?" he asked.

His hug was soothing; he smelled like sea, sunshine, and a hint of tequila, but the things he was saying made no sense.

"Ya, todo va estar bien, chiquita!" he continued in Spanish.

"Ángel. Stepp the fuck away from her, unless you want Erik to splatter your brains on the walls," said the blond man visibly frightened.

"What? No, he wouldn't; he is not insane. De verdad es eso o te dan celos, Miguelito?/ Is it really that or are you jealous, Miguelito?" said Ángel.

"Don't be stupid. You know we don't know how this works. He might not be able to control it," he said ignoring his teasing tone.

"But you would not let him, would you?" Ángel continued in the same manner.

"Shut up and back off," the other man barked.

Angel stepped away from Mila.

"What are we supposed to do with her till next year, eh? Is she supposed to count sand grains? She has a life too, that won't be there anymore. She won't have anything to return to. Has Erik thought about that? If he didn't, he bloody should!"

Mila was looking at Angel amazed. She did not know what he was talking about half of the time but he seemed affected and concerned about her well-being.

"We will not discuss that here," he said curtly and dragged Angel out.

Left alone, Mila spent the rest of the day sleeping and walking through her room. They did not tie her up again. That was good. It gave her the possibility to observe the beautiful place she was imprisoned in. It was a very tasteful modern villa in the middle of the woods. She could see mountains out the window. If she was still on the island she must be near or in Scotland.

That meant at least an eight hours long drive from London.

So Erik is the boss. He will decide what to do with me, but he somehow does not want to see me. Is he waiting for a client? I have to stick to Ángel. He might be my only chance to get out of here.

That night when she fell asleep she dreamed again of snow in the mountains, of the taste of blood on her tongue and rage in her heart.

Everything was white, except a black dot on the horizon. That dot became bigger and transformed into a wolf, a black wolf with eyes of an odd color that bowed his head in front of her.

She looked at him and suddenly she was him and the pain she felt then made her scream in her sleep...