The Widow's Daughter ✔︎

Chapter Eighteen

I wasn't sure if what was happening was a lucid nightmare or a memory. All I knew was that I was strapped to a cold metal table, my hands and feet shackled to the corners, a pale white hospital gown covering my body. I strained against my bonds, the sharp handcuffs cutting into my wrists and ankles. I could see fresh red blood, the colour of my hair, blooming where the metal had sliced.

Okay. So this was real life.

Damn. That sucked!

Leaning over me were two nurses, their faces obscured by black masks and their hands covered in plastic surgeon's gloves. They poked and prodded me with their gloved hands, testing for any sign of weakness. It hurt, but I didn't do so much as wince. Instead, I stayed steely and strong, not letting them know that I was absolutely terrified.

"Hello, маленькая птица."

I froze and whipped my head around to see Ivan prowl towards me, his moustache twitching as he grinned. "You're in a little bit of a pickle, Kira. How did that happen?"

It took all of my self-control not to rip apart the bonds with my super strength and strangle him right then. Instead, I played it cool, saying, "Shouldn't you know? You were there, after all."

Ivan chuckled, a sound that was not that different from nails scraping down a blackboard. "You've grown up, my little bird. Why, you're almost a woman now." He bent over me, the haggard lines of his face hardening. "You look just like her."

My fear, closed in until now, became a tangible, living force that crept over me like some hungry beast, immobilising me; my brain, holding me captive as I whispered the words that had haunted me for years: "I look like who?"

"Your mother, little bird," Ivan snarled. "The one you killed."

I tried to stop the rising panic as I struggled against the bonds. Ivan laughed darkly, watching me try to access my gifts and strength to break away. I couldn't - they were stuck. "You didn't know?" he chuckled. "Ah, well. Probably for the best. A truth like that - well, it would destroy you. Rip you up from the inside. Kill you and everyone you ever cared about."

I could feel terror washing over me. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up like they'd just been electrocuted. "I didn't kill my mother," I managed to choke out. "I never knew my parents! You know that!"

"Well, you didn't kill her directly," Ivan explained, picking up a sharp needle from the nurse's table. "But it was your fault that she is dead."

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I strained against my bonds, trying in vain to rip them. "You're wrong!" I yelled. "And you're lying! Like you always do! Like you did about Tori!"

Ivan chuckled, tapping the syringe. "Yes, I lied about Tori," he said slyly. "She did send you that hologram, though, before she came to her senses and pledged her allegiance to me. That was genuine Tori. Now, she's just a shell... and, like your mother, that is all your fault."

"No," I whispered. "The girls..."

"...Are all pledged to me, yes," Ivan finished. "Tori was right that they would kill you and your dear friend Clint. He's alright, by the way. He won't be in about an hour, though. Neither will you, for that matter." He laughed like a madman. "Funny, isn't it?"

I growled (yes, actually growled) in anger. At least he didn't know that Nat and Bruce were here. "Let me go, Ivan," I snarled. "Let me and Clint go and we won't ever come back here again."

Ivan laughed again. "But I want you to stay, Моя дочь. It's been so lonely, these five years without you. Tori is fine company, but nobody truly opposed me, made me feel alive, like you did. This is your home, Kira. It will always be your home."