Shackled To Nikolai's Heart

[HAZEL'S POV]

Cough! Cough! Cough!

It's cold. And it's dark. Rats scurried around my cell, squeaking noisily around me.

I tightened my blanket around me tighter to keep me warm but it was no good.

Cough! Cough! Cough!

The kid opposite me lay on her back, coughing helplessly. I've also caught the cold myself but mine wasn't as chronic as hers.

She won't last long. They'd dispose of her soon.

I coughed and winced as my stomach growled.

I was hungry but the Slave Master chose not to give my rations because today, I was going to get a new master.

Suddenly I heard his heavy footsteps thudding towards my cell. I knew this day would come.

I wasn't expecting it to be today. He stopped before me-The Slave Master.

I've never met anyone so ugly and terrifying. Men with faces like his should be locked up in the house of horrors.

How I ended up in his hands still remained a dream to me-No this was no dream. It was a nightmare.

A nightmare I've come to accept.

The Slave Master opened my cell and stepped in, gazing down at me in a greedy way that sent chills down my spine.

"It's about time you get shown to our guests, baby," he leaned forward, passing his tongue across thick lips. Then he fondled me.

I could've resisted but what good would it do? I already knew what would happen if I put up resistance.

The Slave Master was a man of little patience. He was always quick with his fists and whip.

I've seen what he did to a stubborn girl who tried to resist him.

She didn't live to tell the tale. He killed her with his bare hands like a bug.

I allowed him fondled me but he wasn't touching me to feel aroused.

He was appraising me, his merchandise, before he brought me out to the market to be sold to my new master.

"Firm youthful breasts," he nodded, squeezing my breasts. "Curvy waist, flawless skin, round ass. Still a virgin. Yup, except for a few bruises, you'll fetch me a good price out there. Come on, stand up."

I slowly stood to my feet while he feasted his eyes over me.

Despite his brutal nature, The Slave Master never made a move on me.

Rather he tortures me with his whip just like he does with the other slaves.

I hated it. I hated it because he held my freedom.

For that, I hated him but not as much as I hated the man who ruined my whole life.

Minutes later, I was put on shackles on my wrists and neck.

There was an evil glitter in his eyes as he dragged me away in chains to be sold.

Chattering of men ahead of me raised my anxiety. I could smell cigarette smoke, body sweats and beer lingering in the air.

The lights at the end of the corner brought me into a crowded underground auction.

A cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air and I could make out men and women moving about in their coats and suits.

The Slave Master dragged me towards a raised platforms where a girl, stripped to her skin was being purchased.

I looked at her new owner and his face filled me with dread.

He was made of pounds and pounds of fats but that wasn't the worse side of him.

It was the cruelty I saw in his eyes. He held more cruelty than The Slave Master.

This made my heart pound hard against my ribs and my blood ran cold.

I suddenly became afraid.

I desperately wished for my freedom-but most importantly, I didn't want to be sold to a creep like that.

"You're up, baby," The Slave Master pushed me on the platform. A spotlight flashed down upon me.

I raised my eyes and caught my breath at the hundreds of eyes staring at me with interest.

This was a place where lives were bidded and bought. This was my end. I can't do this anymore.

Someone should please save me. I want my freedom.

I hadn't realized when The Slave Master came up to me and tore my clothes off, exposing my youthful body underneath a transparent gown before the eyes of these men.

The gown was as transparent as a glass and I could feel the men's gazes burning on my skin.

The hall erupted in a maddening chatter as they ogled me with their eyes.

"Fuck. Check out that dish."

"Look at the tits on her."

"She's perfect. That hair, that skin. She's a rare breed."

"Slaves like these are seen on the market once in a lifetime."

"I'll make her my sex slave. I've got big ideas about her."

I didn't move, I didn't make an effort to hide my shame.

The Slave Master was nearby and he held his spiked whip.

My intuition told me he wouldn't hesitate to use that whip on me if I caused him any trouble.

And so I stood there, my head bowed, tears filling my eyes as I waited hopelessly for my salvation.

"She's a virgin, y'all," the host announced. "We start at $1 million. Did I hear $1 million?"

Bids were called and voices were raised in competition over whom would buy me.

I couldn't believe it. A million dollars? Was I really worth all that money?

The bids went up.

5 million, 6 million.....8 million. Eventually the bidding stopped at $11 million . No one could bid higher than that.

To my horror, the man whom had bidded 11 million was the fat creepy man.

I felt my heart jumped to my throat and I immediately lost my colour.

No! Not him. Dear God, please anyone but him.

He came up towards the platform, his hands laced over his bulging belly, his eyes filled with lust and a maddening desire to torture me.

He grinned knowingly at me, showing his yellow stained teeth. "You're mine now. I'll turn you into a big slut after I must've taste what you're like in my bed."

Who was this guy? He scares me. I never want to belong to this old fat pig.

The host announced. "Gregory Herman bids $11 million dollars. Going once, going twice...."

I shut my eyes and cried, my nails digging into my palms. This is the end. I'm done for. Dad, please save me!

"$50 million dollars," someone announced, his voice breaking into the noisy hall.

Like a switch had been turned off, the auction hall suddenly fell silent.

Everyone turned, me included to the VIP section upstairs.

He crushed his cigarette on the ash tray then took his refilled glass of wine and sipped from it.

His movements were slow and unhurried. Then he stood up and repeated himself.

"$50 million dollars. Any monkey who dares to outbid me? I welcome a little challenge."

No one said anything. They were either too shocked or too scared to place anymore bids.

The host announced, banging the gravel nervously. "S-sold to The Grim Reaper-Mr Nikolai Romanov."

I stared at Nikolai unblinkingly as he descended down the stairs towards the platform where I stood.

Everyone parted ways, creating a path for only him to walk through.

They were afraid of him.

He took slow calculated steps, his shoulders swaying slightly, his head held high, oozing an intimidating aura that made the other men in the room lower their heads in submission.

As he approached me, the air suddenly became charged with electricity.

He stands at 6 feet tall, with a lean but muscular build. He exuded this powerful air of quiet confidence.

Well groomed silver-white hair cascaded elegantly over his forehead, giving him a mystique look.

I've never seen anyone with such hair. He kept it short on the sides and leaves it longer on the top

But it was his eyes that caught my attention; crimson irises which threatened to pierce through anyone who met his gaze.

Then there was the faint blade scar that marred his upper lips.

I swallowed, realising my throat was as dry as a desert sand, my eyes dropping.

When I saw the cross tattoo drew across the back of his hand, I stiffened in shock.

For the first time in years, my eyes came alive and wild.

I recognized that cross tattoo on his hand. This was the exact same hands that destroyed my entire existence.

Nikolai reached out and held my throat-not tightly but hard enough to scourge my flesh.

His crimson red eyes glittered at me. "We meet again. Remember me, Princess?"

Without warning, I roared at him with a murderous rage. "You monster. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you."

[HAZEL'S POV]

My outburst caused a grave silence to fall on the auction hall. Everybody looked shocked.

The Slave Master has lost his colour. He couldn't believe my audacity.

"Why you bitch. Do you know who you're yelling at," he raised his whip to lash at me but Nikolai caught his eyes and casted him a death stare.

"Don't you dare," his voice scared the Slave Master white.

Things started happening fast. Nikolai turned to his men and ordered. "Take her away to the penthouse. Use the helicopter."

Before I knew it, strong arms grabbed me and I was immediately blindfolded and gagged.

Someone threw a coat over me to cover my sheer dress and I was led away from the auction hall.

The men around me spoke in Russia, making it difficult for me to comprehend what they were saying or what they planned to do to me.

My nerves were jumpy and my heart was pounding so hard, threatening to break through my ribs.

I thought about my new master, Nikolai. I never dreamt that one day, we would cross path again.

How long has it been? Five years. Five long years since I lost everything to those hands.

I remembered everything. The blood of my family dripping off his hands.

Those same hands slaughtered every trace of whatever I held dear to me. He could have killed me but he didn't.

He disappeared, leaving just five words behind: "YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, PRINCESS!"

Hatred. Hatred like I've never felt before invaded my heart.

I'll kill him. I'll make him pay gruesomely.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later, we touched down on a helipad and I felt strong hands on me again.

This time I was led all the way downstairs through series of corridors and pavements then an elevator and finally into a room.

One of the men unshackled my wrists and neck and left, shutting the door behind him.

I was left alone in this air-conditioned room, still blindfolded. By now my heartbeat had returned back to normal but my anxiety was still there.

My hands slowly went up to my face and I took off the blindfold.

I caught my breath sharply.

I was in a bedroom large enough to throw a party for a hundred people.

The colour scheme of the room was dominated by black and red.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the lavish king-sized bed which was draped in velvet red and black attire.

The inbuilt bar captured my attention. There were Skull-shaped cups in full display, stocked collections of the finest wines and spirits, aged Scotch whiskies and blood-red cocktails.

Beneath the bar's polished marble was a lion rug sprawled on the floor.

I took all these in, my mind racing with disturbing thoughts.

Suddenly the door opened and three maids walked in, bearing folded dresses.

They stood before me. "Master Nikolai would be here shortly. You must be cleaned and dressed before his arrival."

Before I could utter a word, they grabbed and dragged me into the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, I stood before the wall mirror, unable to believe my eyes.

These maids had transformed me from the dirty girl in worn out clothes to a refined person.

Just then the door swung opened and there he was-the murderer.

He stood by the doorway, surveying me with those remote eyes that showed no emotions.

"That would do," he said and walked inside.

The maids bowed slightly and left us alone. The way they moved told me they were scared of him.

But I wasn't scared of him. My only fears is to keep watching him living.

Nikolai walked towards the bed, taking off his coat and throwing it over the chaise lounge.

I was right about his body size. He was lean but well built. Looking at him now, I couldn't help but notice how young he was.

My bet, he should be somewhere in his late-twenties.

"What's your name?" He walked over to the inbuilt bar and began mixing a drink for himself.

The way he moved his cross tattooed hands, his cold demeanor, the rings in his fingers and the ice in those crimson red eyes gave me an eerie feeling of death.

"Veronica," I balled my hands into fists. "My name is Veronica Flamecrest."

He finished mixing his drink then walked over to the bed and dropped on it. His gaze never left mine as he took a sip.

"You won't be answering Veronica no more," he pointed his finger at me. "You're an empty shell and I shall be the one to fill that shell. Me. No one else."

I didn't say anything. He was my master. He could say whatever he wants.

"On that note," he stood up and walked up close to me. "I'll give you a new name."

His big hands snaked up to my face and he brushed a strand.

I shivered at his touch as I remembered the blood that dripped from these same hands.

The blood of my family.

My throat swelled. "A name?"

A low growl escaped his throat, his eyes boring into mine. "Your hair. It reflects the same colour of my eyes....Hazel. Henceforth your name is Hazel."

Is this guy serious? Don't mess with me!

"How dare you!" I grabbed his hand and sank my teeth into his flesh with all my might.

Nikolai didn't react. He stood still like a statue watching me, a deadpan expression on his face.

I bite him so hard I tasted blood and only then did I let go and backed away.

I expected the bastard to finish me off but he did nothing. His hand was bleeding from my bite-good.

Bleed and die.

"You have no rights to name me," I snarled, my voice laced with bitterness. "You took everything away from me and now you're going to take away my name? How dare you!"

Nikolai brought out a silk handkerchief from his waist coat and whipped his bleeding hand.

"You know, when I saw you at the slave auction, I was surprised," he said. "I never imagined you'll live to see another day."

His last words rang in my head again. YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, PRINCESS.

"I have no regrets," I was breathing hard as I voiced my rage. "Maybe fate kept me alive to enact my revenge on you."

"Don't get your hopes up, Hazel," he rolled his eyes, mockingly. "You can't kill me."

"Stop calling me that," I yelled. "My name is Veronica Flamecrest. I'll never let you replace my family name with yours, you devil."

"I'll call you whatever I want," Nikolai scoffed then turned and walked towards the vast window. He pulled aside the curtains, letting in a stream of sunlight into the room. "And there's not a damned thing you can do about it, Hazel."

My face burned so much I looked frantically around the room, trying to find some weapon, any weapon to finish him off.

I was blinded by my own rage. I can only feel at peace when I know he's dead and only when he's breathing.

He watched my desperate search, an amusing looks in those red eyes.

Then he sighed and leaned against the wall and brought out a gold cigarette case.

"Hazel, do you have any idea why I bought you?"

"I don't give a flying fuck!" I retorted like a mad woman finally settling on a bottle of scotch.

I smashed it against the wall and held it as my weapon to stab him.

Even that action didn't get any reaction from him. He was so calm and relaxed.

"Before you make any futile attempt to kill me," He finally lit a cigarette. "Perhaps you might want to listen to what I have to say."

I would have dashed at him and stab his throat. We were alone and I have a weapon but I didn't kid myself I'll harm him.

He was a bloodlust killer. If he wanted to, he'll end me in seconds.

"I'm not listening to whatever you have to say," I said, tears welling in my eyes. "Just. Let. Me. Kill. You!"

He smiled slightly. "Everyone wants to kill me, Hazel. Sadly you're at the end of a long queue. But I'll make an exception. If you can kill me before the others do, my life is yours."

I couldn't believe him but I was past caring. " It would be my pleasure."

"However," he frowned. "For every attempt you fail to kill me, you shall do what I said without questions."

I wasn't thinking straight when I barked at him. "As long as I kill you with my own hands, I don't care."

His smiled returned but it gave me chills. Chills that told me I've made a mistake.

He drew opened a drawer chest and placed a gun on the bed and backed away. "It's loaded. Give it your best shot, Hazel."

[NIKOLAI'S POV]

The gun lay on the bed between us, loaded and ready.

Hazel darted for the gun without hesitation and she grabbed it.

I remained where I was, watching her.

Her hands were far from steady as she tried to aim it at me. I've seen kids with more nerves than her.

Her tears rolled over her cheeks as she struggled with the blind hate in her eyes.

"You can't kill someone with that much anger brewing in you, Hazel," I blew smoke in her direction, digging my thumb in my pocket.

She wasn't listening to me. Her hands were shaking, her hair was a mess and for a while there, she looked like a mad woman.

So this is what it looks like to be spiteful. I was intrigued by her rage and hate.

After all, I was the same man who murdered her entire family.

"You made a big mistake," she sobbed, gritting her teeth with bitterness. "For a smart guy, that was a very dump move. You shouldn't have handed me the gun."

My jaws clenched as I dropped the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. "Trust me, princess. I never make mistakes."

"Shut up," she was closing the distance between us. She seemed to prefer a close range shot than long range. "I don't give two fucks. Your life is mine and I'm going to enjoy taking it from you."

I leaned my back against the wall and pointed my chin at her. "Hazel. If you shoot me now, it wouldn't give you the satisfaction you deserve."

She was within my range now. Her eyes were so teary I doubt she could see clearly but the murderous intent was there.

There was no mistaking it. She was as bloodlust as a honey bear was for honey.

"Nothing would give me more satisfaction than pulling this bullet through your head," her voice was croaking like a huge lump was stuck in her throat.

I raised my shoulders. "Wouldn't you want to take a knife and slit my wrists opened? Wouldn't it please you to see me bleed slowly? Wouldn't it make you ecstatic to watch me suffer hell firsthand before handling me over to the devil?"

She passed a tongue across her dry lips. Her sobbing ceased. She was listening to my words.

"A bullet is such a cheap way to kill someone," I cocked my head at her. "It's quick and easy and painless. A slow and painful death is benefiting for a man as cruel as me, don't you think so?"

Hazel was conflicted inside. She was hesitant. She wanted to pull that trigger. She wanted to put a bullet in my head.

But something was holding her back.

She was weak. She was awfully weak. She has the resolve but no willpower to execute any action.

I leaned forward and placed my forehead before the barrel.

"Go ahead, Hazel. Pull the fucking trigger. You'd be doing me a huge favour, you know. I'm a filthy sinner deserving of the hottest parts of hell. I don't deserve to live. You think I want living after all the things I've done? You thought wrong. End me. This is your chance. You might never get another."

She swallowed hard. Her knees were buckling. She shut her eyes and bite her lips so hard it drew blood.

Fresh tears rolled down her eyes.

For a long time, we stood facing each other without saying anything.

Not for once did my gaze waver. "You've got killer in your eyes, princess," my eyes narrowed. "But I don't see it."

Hazel slowly lowered the gun.

I frowned and snatched the gun from her. "You disgust me."

Hazel's dropped to her knees her head buried in her palms. She began to cry.

I sighed and squatted before her. My hands stroked her smooth red hair. The gun in my right hand felt heavy.

"You really want to kill me, don't you, Hazel?" I clenched my jaws as I inhaled her scent, her heat, the shampoo in her hair. "You can never kill me. Not at this rate. You're not ready."

She was shivering but her anger wasn't centered at me anymore. It was more on herself.

"You lost an attempt to kill me," I patted her on the head playfully. "As part of our agreement, you'd do as I say."

"Just go away," she sniffed. "Leave me alone."

"Here's my first order," I continued like I didn't hear her. "I order you to have a good night rest. It's already nighttime and you must be tired. I had ordered the maids to bring you something to eat."

"Get out!" She screamed her lungs out.

I stood up and unloaded the gun then locked it in the drawer chest.

I glanced at my wrist watch. "I'll be gone for a business meeting. Tomorrow, we carry on with our reunion, Hazel."

She didn't say anything and that was enough answer for me.

I walked out of the room and locked the doors from outside. I took the keys along with me.

Only one maid possesses a spare key to my bedroom. Walking down the hallway, I met her waiting for me.

She bowed slightly. "Master Nikolai, Vladimir left a message. He wants you at the slaughterhouse."

"Ask what she likes and serve her dinner," I walked passed her and headed into the elevator.

* * * *

I took the Lamborghini and drove all the way with full speed to the club.

Vladimir was waiting outside when I pulled up. He bowed slightly when he saw me and ushered me inside.

The club was deserted. Usually by this time, it's filled to the brim with customers but It's my bet my men cleared the place for some privacy.

"Lock the doors," Vladimir snarled at my men. They obeyed and took their positions guarding the entrance.

"Where's Kwame?" I asked as we got into the elevator.

"The wine chamber. He's there with Anton," he replied, dialing the passcode. The elevator rode us down to the wine chambers built underground.

"This had better be good," I walked out as soon as the steel doors rolled opened.

Anton and Kwame were standing over three crates, talking in low tones. They turned when they saw me approaching.

"What took you so long, Nikolai?" Anton asked. "You kept us waiting."

"Go fuck yourself," I stood beside him, fishing out a cigarette from my case. "So what's this about, Anton?"

Anton waved at the three crates. "Earlier this evening, our cocaine landed on shore and I sent the boys to pick it up."

I studied the crates and my jaws clenched. "These aren't our crates."

"You're damn right they aren't," Anton's frown deepened. "Our men picked up the wrong crates. Our cocaine got shipped to the wrong location and we ended up with these."

I lit up my cigarette. "What's in the fucking crate, Anton?"

"You're not gonna like it, Boss," Kwame said quietly and I saw tension in his eyes. "It's hot stuff."

I pointed the butt end of my cigarette at him. "Just open the fucking crates."

Anton took two steps back and passed his hand over his sweaty face as Kwame and Vladimir opened the crates.

I didn't know how long I stood there but long enough to drink in what was infront of me.

I held my cigarette between my fingers, my face impassive but deep inside, my nerves were jumpy.

I've smuggled hot stuffs, cocaine, guns, explosives, drugs. The list is unending.

But this stuff was something I've never handled before but I know its history.

In fact there wasn't a man operating in the illegal business that knows nothing about this stuff.

Stellarite. An extremely rare crystalline mineral that held the components to create bombs a thousand times more destructive than an atomic bomb.

It's so rare we could only hear about it in stories but haven't seen one.

World leaders were hunting for it like pirates on a search for treasures.

Stellarite is sold at $100,000 per gram and I've got three crates of it.

"Where the hell did you find these?" I didn't recognize my voice. It was grave and unnecessarily rough.

Anton looked at me. "I told you. We picked up the wrong crates."

I shook my head but not once did I take my eyes off that crate for one second. "No, this is government property. Someone is supplying them this stuff."

"I say let's get rid of it," Anton suggested.

"No," my nerves were calm now. "Keep it in hiding and give me twenty-four hours to think."

I couldn't help landing my thoughts on Hazel.