December 11th
Chapter 11 — Thin Ice
They were being watched.
Kateryna could feel it in her bones, in the prickling sensation between her shoulder blades, and the way conversations stopped the second she entered a room. It wasn’t just paranoia now. Something had changed.
Rooms were searched that morning. Not the usual half-hearted checks. This time, it was methodical. Ruthless. They tore the place apart.
They pulled out drawers, flipped mattresses, and dismantled hairdryers. Vents were checked and even the picture frames were pulled from the walls and inspected.
Kateryna sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, head lowered like a prayer. She forced her breath steady as she listened to the thuds and curses from two doors down. When footsteps finally moved past her door, she resisted the urge to look up.
Please, God—don’t let them lift the cistern lid.
They didn’t. Not yet.
But Mace was different now. Not just angry. Taut. On edge, like a man trying not to explode. Even the others sensed it.
Later that day, Kateryna heard shouting in the corridor. The kind that made the girls freeze.
“You think I’m stupid?” Mace snarled.
She stepped quietly to her door, heart thudding, and peeked out.
He had Marta pinned to the wall, one arm across her throat, the other balled into a fist at his side. His face was inches from hers, spitting fury.
“Something’s going on. I smell it.”
Marta’s eyes flashed. “Maybe it’s your own bullshit you smell.”
The slap came fast. Hard enough to make the crack echo down the hall. Marta’s head snapped sideways against the wall.
Still, she didn’t cry.
She straightened slowly, blood trickling from her lip. Then—God help her—she smiled. A cruel, blood-red grin that dared him to hit her again.
“Careful,” Mace growled, backing away. “You’re not untouchable.”
Later, Kateryna found Marta in the laundry room, crouched near the industrial dryer, stuffing ice cubes into a tea towel with shaking fingers. Her cheek was already purpling.
“That was brave,” Kateryna said.
“That was stupid,” Marta replied, her jaw tight. “He knows. Or he’s close.”
Tanya joined them, eyes darting. “They searched the front desk again. They know the USB’s gone.”
Marta muttered a curse in Slovak. “If they find it…”
“Michael will be here tomorrow. I’ll give it to him then,” Kateryna said quickly.
The weight of their plan pressed heavier now. They had names, footage, a growing list of powerful and complicit men who had paid to violate them. But they were on thin ice, and it was cracking beneath their feet.
That night, the club was louder than usual. Music thumped through the walls, thick with bass. Laughter rang out from the lounge, forced and frenzied. The kind that tried to mask something ugly beneath. Girls moved through the corridors above like ghosts. The men didn’t notice.
Or didn’t care.
Kateryna got through her shift on autopilot. Smile, nod, don’t meet eyes. Just another night. Just another mask.
Later, in the apartment, Alina stayed close to Kateryna’s side, glancing over her shoulder too often, flinching when someone spoke too loudly. She didn’t say much. That worried Kateryna more than anything.
“Are you alright?” she whispered once.
Alina just gave her a look. Blank and distant.
Kateryna lay in her bunk that night, staring at the ceiling while the others slept restlessly around her. She tried to sleep, but couldn’t. Her thoughts circled like wolves.
They were so close. So close. But the cracks were widening. One wrong move, one careless word, and it would all come down.
In the dark, her hand drifted to her neck, pressing lightly. The bruises still hadn’t faded. She didn’t know if they ever would.
And her mind kept asking the same question, again and again.
Would she survive?
