Author's note:

Disclaimer: as before.

Thanks a lot to my first reviewers. Thanks for your support in choosing the 'dark' path :-) and for your opinions that are very helpful and highly motivating.

Sorry for any possible errors/mistakes/omissions – sometimes I overlook them even if they are glaring. Maybe I should finally change my contact lenses. Or, I don't know, sleep more.

To read once that my Stiglitz is sexy as hell made me smile stupidly for the whole day. But to read it three times… well… there was a serious danger that this stupid smile may remain on my face permanently ;-) I'm doing my best about our favourite German sergeant, but frankly speaking it's much easier to make Hugo sexy than to make Donny become an intellectual ;-)

But, as the story is going to be dark, he's gonna be quite nasty in next chapters (but still sexy ;-))

So especially for you – chapter 2 and Hugo. Hope I did him justice.

xxxxxxxxxx

2. At bay

His grip on her arm increased and he did not delay demonstrating that what he had just said was not an empty threat to finally defeat Dieter or to scare her even more. He dragged her out of the study into the dark corridor and found the way to the bedroom as easily as if he had been there before. Maybe he was.

She tried to struggle at the door, her sobs becoming louder and more desperate, but he only hissed irritably and pushed her inside without ceremony, hard enough to make her stagger. But she managed to keep balance and turned around to face him in an instant, quite sure that he would lunge at her in the dark room, and having him behind terrified her even more.

Yet he did not assault her; he switched on the light instead and for a while it seemed almost glaring, making her blink helplessly. She took a step backwards, slowly moving to the middle of the room, then closer to the window behind her, not averting her gaze from his face, her muscles so strained that it was almost painful.

He still did not make any move in her direction; he just stood at the doorframe observing her with a seemingly detached expression, but she presumed that he was probably planning his attack carefully – to block her escape, to hurt her as hard as he could, to torture her before finishing her off. That he would kill her in the end she had no doubt.

A sudden scream of pain coming from the study broke the silence and Stiglitz smiled at her nastily.

'It seems that our dear Dieter's finally lost his reserve,' he said in German, his tone as polite and detached as if he had been starting a friendly chat with her. 'Which makes me wonder if you are as vocal as him,' he smirked and she felt her hands trembling so hard that she had to clench her fists, and a wave of panic struck her like a splash of dense, sticky liquid.

He closed the door with a thud and that snapped her out of numbness. She got tense again and stared at him in terror. But he did not come any closer; he just leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, two buttons of his dark grey shirt undone at his neck, but whether he did it now or before she could not tell.

Her gaze rapidly shifted from him to the door, then to the large bed on her left, to the night table, to the wooden wardrobe on her right and back to him, and she was desperately considering the distances, the possibilities, her chances and the meaning of a light smirk on his face that seemed to grow wider with each second. And when he finally spoke, it was as if he could read her mind.

'You won't win, so you'd better abandon any clever escape plans.'

She froze as if his voice pinned her to the spot and for a long moment they were looking at each other – the silence between them suddenly became so dense, so overwhelming, that her panting, his men' voices and the sound of blows coming from behind the door seemed to sink into it.

And then he uncrossed his arms and took one step towards her.

'I'm not sure whether you've heard of me and obviously Dieter didn't find it fit to introduce us,' he said silkily, taking another step, as he was slowly but surely closing the distance between them and she was watching him in panic, distracted by his voice, by what he was saying, but still terribly aware of him moving closer and closer with every word.

'Not that I blame him for this,' he sneered, 'but we must remedy this obvious oversight before we proceed any further.' He stopped in front of her and she held her breath.

'Hugo Stiglitz, madam. Does that ring any bells with you?'

She looked at him vacantly and he gave a scornful laugh. 'Come on, even someone like you must sometimes read newspapers. At least when you're bored.'

It sounded like an insult even without his dismissive tone and she looked at him resentfully, her pride for an instant prevailing over her fear of him, but at the same moment a sudden memory made her gasp.

Newspapers. A newspaper headline. A black and white photograph and a completely unbelievable article she had read a few months ago. A man who had killed thirteen Gestapo officers as easily as if they had been a bunch of vulnerable old men. Gestapo officers.

Stiglitz. That was his name. Her eyes immediately grew wider and she let out a soft whimper when she recognized the man from that photograph in him.

He curled his lips in triumph. 'I suppose that it rings a bell,' he said, moving closer and circling her slowly like a large, dark panther, his movements catlike and menacing, and now she was sure the end of this game was close.

She only hoped it would not hurt too much.

'What's your name?' he asked unexpectedly, but she did not reply and he did not repeat the question.

'You're not a particularly loquacious type,' he was now behind her, close, but not close enough to touch her yet and she froze when she felt him lean forward, his mouth beside her ear and his breath tickling her neck. 'Pity. I was hoping for an interesting conversation. But don't worry, we'll do something about your silence.'

Her gaze dropped to the ground and for a while she closed her eyelids tightly.

'So now I guess we must finish the formal part,' he informed her softly, but still did not reach for her, moving around her unhurriedly. 'Strip,' he said unexpectedly when he stood in front of her again and in spite of his casual tone it was a command.

She did not move, however, only her hands started to shake again.

'Can't you hear me?' he asked calmly, but it was that kind of calmness that made her blood run cold and she let out a choked sob. 'I told you to strip.'

She still did not make any movement other than a flinch and he smiled as if in appreciation of her lack of response.

'You wanna me to help you?' he asked understandingly. 'Or maybe you wanna my men to become involved at this stage?'

The reaction was lightning; she looked up at him in horror, her face almost white and her lips moving involuntarily as if she was telling a silent prayer.

'I assume that you don't like any of these options,' he said, dark amusement clear in his voice. 'So you'd better do what you're told. I'm getting tired of this foreplay.'

She felt tears flowing down her cheeks and she closed her eyes to stop them, but she was not able to restrain sobs coming out from her dry throat, when she clenched her fingers on the fabric of her nightdress.

'Slowly,' he demanded, his voice coming from a different point and she opened her eyes at once.

He was sitting on the bed, watching her closely, his lips twisted into a nasty smirk.

'Slowly,' he repeated patronisingly. 'We don't need to hurry, Frau Hellstrom. Let's give Dieter some time.'

He lazily leaned back, propped on his elbows, sprawled on the bed, undisturbed by any noises coming from behind the door.

'Go on,' he encouraged mockingly and it was when something snapped deep inside her. She darted a glance at the door and she rushed towards it even before she could think of any reasonableness of this step.

But he was right behind her when she grabbed the handle, one of his arms wrapping tightly around her waist like a tentacle and his fingers encircling her shoulder in a vice-like grip.

'You are very stupid,' he hissed, yanking her backwards and turning her to him.

'What were you trying to do?' he asked, his tone mocking again, but calm, restrained. 'Escape from me? Do you really think you can escape from here?' he gave a short, unpleasant laugh and she started to cry helplessly.

'Quiet!' he snarled, his face inches from hers, and her last sobs got stuck in her throat, her eyes growing wide again.

He smirked. 'That's better.' He took a step backwards, blocking her way to the door. 'Now I'll give you the last fucking chance before I call my men. Take off this frock. Take. It. Off.'

She shuddered at the dark threat hidden in his tone, but her fingers got hold of the fabric of her nightdress and she yanked it upwards in sudden determination, pulled it off over her head and threw it on the floor furiously. And then she looked him in the eyes; her gaze as hateful and defiant as if that weeping, terrified girl that had been shaking in front of him a moment ago was gone for good, replaced by someone forged from cold fury. From pure hatred.

And although she knew that the metamorphosis was fragile, temporary – he could easily reduce her to the previous state in mere seconds – at the moment she did not care. About his reaction. His anger. His gaze on her skin.

But he had not even thrown a glance at her naked body yet – he was studying her face, her angry eyes, her pursed lips.

'Rebellious?' he asked pensively. 'Or simply arrogant?'

She neither replied nor gazed away and something flashed in his eyes before he closed the distance between them in one step and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him violently and the feel of the coarse cloth of his shirt on her skin was almost burning.

'I'm going to cure you of any arrogance, bitch,' he snarled into her ear and then pushed her forcefully back to the middle of the room.

She staggered, but did not fall down and for a while he was looking at her impassively, his sudden outburst gone and almost forgotten when his gaze moved down to her heaving breasts and she automatically crossed her arms on her chest.

'Don't!' he said sharply and her eyes locked on his angrily. 'Put your hands down.'

She glared at him in response and the familiar smirk returned to his face.

'If you wanna do it the hardest way possible, I won't object. Be my guest.' Her arms dropped to her sides even before he finished.

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'So we're finally making some progress.'

His eyes were roaming through her body impassively for a long agonizing moment and when he suddenly shifted, she instinctively crossed her arms again.

'So much about the progress,' he snorted. 'We must definitely establish some rules before you can come to wrong conclusions about our little date.'

He approached her smoothly and his hand rested heavily on her shoulder, holding her in place, which was in fact unnecessary as she did not even move under his gaze, her arms still embracing her form protectively.

'Listen carefully, Frau Hellstrom, cause I'm not going to repeat myself. You seem to be completely unaware of your current predicament, so I guess some explanation is in order. Simple enough for you to get it.'

She glared at him again and he smiled rapaciously.

'Perhaps in your naivety you think that you'll give me a fright with that nice scowl of yours. Perhaps you hope that I'll spare you and leave this room,' he snorted with laughter. 'I can't really have this misapprehension last any longer, my dear, so let me enlighten you as to what you've been caught in. You're my prisoner. Prisoner,' he repeated gruffly and his grip on her shoulder increased as if he wanted to emphasize his words even more, his fingers pressing her skin painfully, but at the moment she could hardly feel the pain. 'I've just taken you captive, which means that I can do whatever I want with you, your rights wiped out here and now,' he said with a sneer and she gazed away, feeling her fear returning and slowly, insidiously taking away the little courage she had plucked up.

'And if you wanna quote Geneva Convention,' he twisted his mouth into an indulgent smile, 'we don't really think that its rules should apply to a little Nazi whore spreading her legs before any Gestapo scum, her husband or not,' she flinched at his mention of Dieter and he gave an amused snort.

'It seems that I've hit the nail.

He got hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him, before he continued in the same firm, steady, impassive voice that gave her the creeps even before his words reached her. 'You know that I could easily kill you right now. Slit your throat. Stab you to death. Break your neck. Or maybe break any single bone in your body,' she looked up at him in horror and he smiled coldly. 'Yeah, this can be done, but may take a while. I could also fuck you right on your marriage bed and leave you bleeding. I could tell my men to do the same and I'm sure that could be quite a show.'

Her lips started trembling involuntarily and she gave an uncontrollable sob, while he was observing her with narrowed eyes, undoubtedly satisfied with her reaction.

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'That could be a fun. A nice distraction from our usual job. But I'm afraid this would be a one-time action and even if it made Dieter rather angry with me, I don't think he would still be much affected after a month or two. Repeated messages should be more effective.'

He let go of her chin and she hung her head, her arms still crossed.

'So you don't need to be afraid that our acquaintance will come to a tragic end tonight. I have some other plans for you,' he informed her with a sneer.

'I don't care,' she whispered unexpectedly and although her voice was barely audible, it reached him.

'Excuse me, what have you said?' he asked in mock politeness and she raised her head in sudden anger.

'I don't care!' she spat hatefully and he looked at her in cold surprise.

'So you really think you have nothing to lose?' he asked calmly, but at the next instant he grabbed her shoulders forcefully and pushed her onto the bed.

She tried to get up almost at that very moment when her body hit the cold material of the bedding, but he lunged forward and forced her down again, clenching his fingers on her arms and shaking her strongly before he pushed her down on her back.

'That's what you want?' he snarled, bending down, and she began struggling with all her might, thrashing around in a desperate attempt to hit him, to kick him. To break out of his grip. But she only managed to scratch his hands before he forcefully turned her over onto her stomach, twisting her arm and pressing her into the duvet.

A scream escaped her lips before he leaned over her, pinning her shaking form with his body and pressing her face into the pillow for a moment long enough to let the warning sink in.

'You still think it was wise to provoke me?' he hissed furiously into her ear, but loosened his grip on her neck and she turned her face to the side, panting for breath, her cheeks pale and wet with tears.

Her right arm was still twisted painfully and trapped under his considerable weight and she was sure it would break the moment he began to move. Yet he did not; he was just waiting patiently for her breathing to become even.

'Ready to talk?' he asked matter-of-factly.

'Let me go!' she cried out in both pain and frustration.

'I don't think so,' came the cool reply. 'You need a good lesson, Frau Hellstrom, as it seems that actions speak to you much louder than words.'

His right hand rested on her shoulder and then moved down her side, stroking her skin slowly, methodically, cruelly, in a mocking caress. She tried to recoil from his touch, but only yelped with pain, when her twisted arm made itself felt.

'You arm,' he said, his voice silky and derisive. 'You really should be more careful, my dear.'

His hand stopped on her hip for a while and then it slid between her body and the duvet and she let out a helpless sob.

'I guess you must be terribly frustrated, my dear,' he said softly and his lips brushed her shoulder. 'We interrupted too quickly, before Dieter could even finish your little marital game. That must have annoyed you. You wanna me to start where he finished, don't ya?

'No!' she sobbed, and his mouth touching her shoulder again sent shivers down her spine.

He chuckled. 'You're becoming unbearably talkative. I'm afraid you can even tell me your name right now.'

His hand began to move absent-mindedly up her stomach and she whimpered helplessly.

'Please,' a choke in her voice made the word vague and she repeated it desperately. 'Please. Please!'

'Saying something?' he asked, a note of cruel amusement in his voice, while the hand that was still travelling unhurriedly finally reached its destination and he slightly squeezed her breast.

'Please, stop it,' she cried.

'You sure?' he mocked.

'Y…yes,' she stammered, squeezing her eyelids.

'And if I do,' he drawled, 'will you cooperate?'

'Yes,' she said hesitantly and he chuckled.

'At least you're reasonable. Your name?'

'Astrid.'

'Nice,' he said. 'So tell me, Astrid, if Dieter keeps any guns at home?'

'Yes,' she stuttered out.

'You know where?'

'Yes.'

'Will you show me?'

'Yes,' she replied feebly.

'That's what I like to hear,' he chuckled and the hand touching her was gone in an instant, but his mouth came closer to her ear and she closed her eyes in fear.

'I suggest that you don't push your luck any longer,' he whispered. 'I may be quite tolerant, but as you can see, even my patience has its limits.'

She felt him get up, but did not dare to move, her head spinning and her right arm throbbing mercilessly.

'Are you going to stand up at last or do you prefer to remain in this highly provocative position?' he asked impassively. 'I may assume you want me to return to…'

'No!' She turned around clumsily and sat up, pulling her legs up to her chest and rubbing her arm. Avoiding his eyes.

He gave a short laugh. 'As hurt as I am about you turning me down so cruelly, I guess we don't really have time for more caresses right now. We must find you a nice attire for a forest camp,' he smirked and opened the wardrobe, searching through its contents casually.

'Try this,' he threw her a long, brown woolen skirt and it landed on the bed beside her, but she did not move.

'You don't like it?' he asked when he turned to her. 'You will. And now put it on, Astrid. Put. It. On.'

She grabbed the skirt and pulled it on hurriedly before he handed her a long-sleeved blouse. Green. Shockingly simple compared with her other clothes, but she put it on, her hands shaking under his gaze.

'I need…' she paused, casting a hesitant glance at him.

'Underwear,' he gave her a crooked smile. 'Not that I'm surprised. Sure. But choose something I'll like,' he added derisively when she went past him to the wardrobe, opening the other door.

Her hand brushed her bras absent-mindedly and then moved to the upper shelf almost automatically, though for an instant she did not understand why she had reached here.

She felt the shape of Dieter's pistol behind his neatly folded pyjamas even before she remembered it was hidden here. Just in case. And it was definitely that case. She hesitated only momentarily before she turned around to the man behind her, pointing the pistol at him.

'My, my,' he smirked, meeting her hard gaze with a bored expression, 'and to think that I've just started to like you.'