Reunion

By the time he caught up to her, she was inside of the house with Ivanov.

Fido parked his bike across the street and pulled out his phone. It was originally a ploy so that he could tell nosy neighbors that he was lost, but then he had an idea.

He didn't know how to handle this situation. The best idea he'd been able to come up with was just to wait for Ivanov to leave, then to break into the house and steal Nikki back. He knew she wouldn't come with him willingly. However, there were people who knew him, had met him, and might know how to conquer him.

Fido didn't harbor any lofty thoughts of killing him, no illusions about slaying the dragon and rescuing the princess. For starters, his Boss wasn't the type of woman who would ever appreciate being compared to something as seemingly delicate as a princess. Not to mention the fact that she happened to be entirely, hopelessly, disgustingly devoted to this man who would rather tear her apart than hold her while she cried. If Fido did somehow manage to kill him, and she found out, she'd probably kill him in retribution.

This was a no win situation, every way he looked at it, but he couldn't just leave her to that monster.
He thumbed through the contacts in his phone, finally clicking on the name Siren. Jacqueline had sheltered Nikki when she was in New York, and they were old friends. Surely she would know something.

Just before he pressed the button to call her, he caught a whisper of a voice.

Her voice.

“You're really here.”

Something was wrong with her voice. She sounded like she was caught in a dream. The only reason he was able to pick up on her words was his enhanced hearing. It seemed like she was in a basement.

“Yes, I am, Mishka.” A thickly accented voice spoke tenderly to her. Ivanov.

Although Fido had never met him, he knew at that moment that he was alive, and she was alone with him. His blood boiled. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and walked his bike across the street, parking it beside Nikki's black convertible. He walked around the house to the back yard, and sat against the wall. The voices were clearer here.

The sounds he heard coming up through the ground would have been imperceptible to human ears. Without her blood, he would have missed them entirely. He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and began to smoke as he eavesdropped.

He heard the rattle of chains, orders given and received without complaint. Those were gut-wrenching, but he didn't react. Shortly after, his blood ran cold as she shrieked. He was on his feet before the motion registered, and he had to fight himself to sit back down against the house. It was no good, he told himself. There was nothing he could do yet. This was just reconnaissance. Listening to the woman he loved being tortured by her former lover was surely something he could endure. She came here willingly. He shouldn't interfere with her choices.

She screamed again, a long, drawn out wail of pain. He winced.

Ivanov laughed as her scream faded to sobs, then he spoke, voice molasses sweet and dark with appreciation.

“I had forgotten how beautifully you sing, Mishka. Please, serenade me.”

Hours passed. The sun began to rise. Somehow, Fido had managed to listen to the entire exchange without throwing up. His skin crawled beneath the leather of his jacket. His mouth was dry, and there was a lump the size of his fist in his throat. Something in his chest had cracked open and was bleeding all over his soul.

“That is enough for one night.” Ivanov said. Fido couldn't have agreed more. Chains clinked once more, and he heard running water. A shower, he supposed. The sound continued for a few moments, then cut off. Footsteps sounded on stairs. A door creaked. More footfalls padded gently on hardwood floors.

Then, in the room on the other side of the wall he sat against, he heard weight gently lowered onto a bed, the springs creaking softly, sleepily.

“I love you.” Nikki whispered. It made his chest ache again, hearing her say those words he'd wanted to hear for so long said to another man. No, not another man. A monster.

“Sleep now, Mishka.” The springs creaked again as a second body settled into it. The blinds behind the thick curtain ruffled as a blanket was shaken out, covering the pair in the bed.

“But I missed you.” Her voice was strained. Ivanov hushed her, like a parent comforting an exhausted but stubborn child.

“And I you. Now, rest, lyubov moya. You are in my arms again.”

Fido caught the scent of her blood as the sun rose over the horizon.