47

                                    

                                          
3 weeks later...
                          
Kamala's POV
                          
Her face.
                          
It seemed more distinguishable with each step she took towards the manor, chains sprawling through her bruised and beaten body while the rough hand gripped the upper part of her arm.
                          
A rough metallic collar tightly attached to her neck, giving just enough access to air to let her live. Silver shackles sprung around from the side connecting the neckbands of the people behind her.
                          
The glass of the window may have been slightly blurred, but still it allowed me to witness the line of roughed up men and women as they were taken on their 'walk of shame' around the capitol.
                          
Humiliated and defeated, the convicts wore a big black demeaning sign incarcerated on their forehead making every bystander aware of their part in the Siberian Mafia. 
                          
The guards stood closely by, their tight hold never deceasing from the already helpless men as if they already had any chance of escaping with the large chunk of metal wrapped around their throats, each connecting to the other.
                          
Residents of the city would rail down on the new prisoners, shouting profanities as they passed their way. Screaming for their blood as the mark on their head came to sight.  
                          
I knew exactly whose doing this was. 
                          
It was the same man that slept by my side every night.
                          
Countless of their faces entered my mind. Some unknown, some hauntingly familiar as they starred in my nightmares each night. 
                          
But her face stood out.
                          
Even in the presence of utter humiliation, her head was still kept up right while her body slowly led the exhausted ones of her people. The solid chains dragging their frames as they frightfully looked ahead to where they were going to be taken.
                          
But not her.
                          
She wasn't scared. At least- she didn't show it. 
Her eyes were kept on straight at the entrance of the first gate leading up to the manor. One of the guards roughly pushed her inside, making her collapse onto the concrete ground. 
                          
It was then that her eyes connected with mine.
                          
My eyes widened at the sudden exposure but were unable to look away. 
That was the first time her expression changed from her calm posing. Her eyebrows furrowed in pure confusion while her mouth was slightly agape from the bare sight of my living physique.
                          
Hazy memories of her floated inside of my brain, my mind desperately trying to replay where I recognized this girl from.
                          
Before either she or I had the chance to comprehend the situation, the guard harshly grabbed her by her collar, forcing her upon her legs. I winced at his action as I ran to the neighboring window to continue my view of the girl but by the time I reached the place, she was already gone out of sight as the long line of people followed her.
                          
Thousands of thoughts seemed to occupy my mind as I reached my head further to catch another glimpse of her.
                          
I knew this woman. That much was apparent at least .
                          
I didn't know how or when yet but one piece of information stood clearer above all else.
                          
Her name.

                          
Tatyana.
———————-
3rd person's POV
                          
Alister stood by the railing just above the hallway as the hundred or so men walked through the gates of the warehouse.
Menace glistened through his eyes at the sight of his enemies down by his feet, their fate and existence resting in his hands.