She had been kidnapped four days ago. Well, that's what she thought, at least. They had her in a warehouse, tied to a chair, only allowed one bathroom visit a day, accompanied by one of their female members. And they kept asking her weird questions about some lost drugs. And she had to bloody idea what they were talking about, or why they thought she held the answers to those questions.
She was tired and her body hurt, both because she was constantly on that damn chair and because of the torture. She didn't know how much she could take. And she was so cold.
They cut her. They beat her. They taunted her. They made fun of her. She just really wanted to cry. And she did. When she was alone.
Every day they sent in a new guy to try and get her to talk. But she knew nothing. Not that it mattered. They didn't believe her.
The door opened, to reveal her tormentor for the day. But when she raised her eyes to see him, she was taken aback. He was gorgeous. And hot, so damn hot. He had brilliant eyes and she could tell he was built like a Greek god. And he was tall, probably a good foot taller than her.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said in perfect English, "you have to help me so that I can help you. You know I can inflict a lot of pain. That's why they sent me. Just tell us where the drugs are and that's it."
Felicity sighed. Here we go again. "I didn't take any drugs. I didn't"
"We both know that's not true, Donna." The man sighed.
"What?" she frowned. "Why would you call me that?"
"Because that's your name" he raised an eyebrow.
"No, it isn't. That's my mother's name." she cocked her head, trying to figure out what was happening. "My name is Felicity. Though, I am not so sure I should be telling you that, considering that I don't know you and that you were sent to hurt me."
"You're not Donna Angelica Smoak?" he asked.
"No, that is my mother, well if you can call her that. My name is Felicity Megan Smoak." She replied as firmly as she could manage.
"Those incompetent idiots." He swore and took out his phone. He called someone and they had a heated conversation in what seemed like Russian to her. He seemed to get angrier by the second, judging by the way he talked and his facial expressions.
When he hung up the phone, he punched the wall behind him, making her flinch violently. He moved away from her and to the other side of the room, behind her. She could hear him opening cupboards and looking for things. He reappeared a minute later with medical supplies. He put them on the table next to the chair and then stood in front of her.
"Wh-What is going on?" she asked, afraid for his reply.
"Your mother stole two million dollars' worth of prescription drugs from the Bratva." He said.
"The Bratva?"
"The Russian Mob." He took a look at her wounds. "Two new guys were sent to retrieve her, but obviously they screwed up, and took you instead. The Las Vegas Captain and the Pakhan are on their way here, as we speak."
"What's going to happen to me?" she asked in a small voice. She didn't want to die. She was just 24. She wanted to live.
"I'm going to take care of your wounds, for now. I was ordered not to untie you, so you are stuck on the chair for now." He said and Felicity thought that he was genuinely sorry.
She nodded her head gingerly but said nothing. He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning her wounds, even bandaging a couple. One of the cuts on her thigh needed a couple of stitches. There wasn't any numbing agent available, so he had to do them without it. He told her so. And he warned her that it was going to hurt.
He cleaned her face, too. She had a few bruises and she winced every time he put pressure on them. And Felicity could have sworn that his administrations were getting softer and softer like he didn't want to see her in pain. It must have been her imagination. He was some sort of mob enforcer; he probably didn't care if she was in pain.
She didn't know how much time had passed when the door opened again. This time a middle-aged man was dressed to the nines and looked important, and a younger guy entered. They greeted the Greek God (he hadn't given her a name, sue her) and then turned to her.
"We are terribly sorry, for your ordeal, my girl. Those responsible will be dealt with accordingly." The middle-aged man said. He had a heavy accent, Felicity noted. "You shouldn't have endured all this in your mother's place."
"She has always managed to pull in on her messes." She said quietly. And it was true. Ever since her father left, her mother always brought trouble to the house. Drugs, alcohol, men, you name it, Felicity had seen it.
"No matter. You were innocent and I am terribly sorry we took that away from you." The man said.
"What's going to happen to me now? I truly don't know where your drugs are." Felicity pleaded.
"I believe you, child. However, you know too much to just let you go." He said. "You have options, of course. You can either undergo the Bratva initiation or marry one of the Captains, the American Captain, to be exact. He is the only one without a wife. I shall give you some time to think about it. Ivan and I will go find some food, for our guest." He said the last part to the Greek God.
They left, leaving a shell-shocked Felicity behind. She had to become a Bratva member or marry a Captain she didn't know. She could read between the lines. They couldn't risk her saying anything to anyone and this way she would be tied to the Bratva. Her third option was for her body to be discovered in a river or something.
"What's the initiation? What does it entail?" she asked brokenly. "Can you tell me?"
He stayed quiet for a few moments and Felicity thought that he wouldn't answer, but he proved her wrong. "There are three steps to the initiation. First is the bell test; you have to fight Bratva members to ring the bell behind them. Those who fail are killed. Then you have the knives; you have to trust your brothers with a knife, while they cut your back. And finally, you have to perform a hit successfully, without any questions asked." He said detachedly. "At least that's the initiation I went through to become a captain."
"You're a Captain?"
"I'm the American Captain." He said, moving to stand in front of her.
"Why would you agree to marry me?" she frowned. "You don't know me. I'm nothing to you and you were sent to torture me."
"A few reasons." He shrugged. "It's a test for me, to prove my loyalty. I'm the only American Captain in the Solntsevskaya Bratva and most Captains don't trust me. Some have tried to kill me. And I don't want you to go through an initiation. Even if you manage to fight off the five members protecting the bell and ring it, the next two steps will change you to your very core. You don't look to be much older than my sister. I would never want that for her."
"So, it would be a marriage of convenience? For both of us?"
"Mostly. We have to look like we are actually married to the Bratva. So, no divorce. We have to have a Russian Ceremony and wear our wedding rings. But other than that, we don't have to be married." He said, trying to assure her. He knew what she was afraid of. Many mob members, from various organizations and families, had brought shame to them by forcing themselves on women and raping them. And Oliver felt disgusted by it.
"Would it be okay if I chose the marriage? Because I don't want to end up in a body bag or a river somewhere." She asked one more time. she had made her choice. She knew he was dangerous, but he had been straight with her, honest. And he had tried to help her even before he realized that they had the wrong woman. And granted, it could be a mind game or some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, but for some inexplicable reason, she felt she could trust him.
"Yes." He said simply.
"Do I get to know your name? Since we are getting married and everything?" she asked nervously. There is no way she was calling him a Greek God to his face.
"Oliver. Oliver Queen." He said softly.
"Queen?! But-but you-"
"It's complicated. And no, no one knows I'm alive. I will keep it that way for the foreseeable future. Do you understand?" he looked her in the eye and Felicity had to fight the shiver that ran down her spine.
"Yeah." She nodded. They stayed quiet for some time. felicity was trying to wrap her mind around what was going to happen. She was going to marry a Bratva Captain because her mother stole their drugs. That was her life!
"I used to have plans, you know." She huffed a bitter laugh.
"Plans?"
"Yeah. I have two master's degrees from MIT. I wanted to work in a big tech company, learn the ropes, and then open my own. I did some freelancing in Vegas. It got me some good money. I wanted to travel the world, see new places. I wanted to fall in love. But my mother had to take my dreams away from me." She couldn't help the tears that escaped her. "She always mocked me for having those dreams and then she stole from the Bratva. And here we are." She sighed.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. If anything, I should be thanking you. You're quite literally saving my life. There is no way I would have survived the initiation. And you seem like a decent person, even if I don't know you." She blinked, willing the tears away.
"Don't thank me." He said lowly.
They stayed in silence until the two men returned. The middle-aged man introduced himself as Anatoly Knyazev, the Pakhan. The other guy was Gregory. They brought her soup and some clothes. She was told she was in Russia. Fracking Russia! She was taken from Las Vegas, but apparently, this was not the first time screwed the Russians and that meant she had to meet the higher-ups.
Anatoly seemed excited that she chose to marry the American Captain and after releasing her, he kissed them on the cheeks and sent them off to Oliver's place. And Felicity got more and more nervous by the minute. She was going to be alone with Oliver Queen, Bratva Captain in his house.
But he was respectful of her. She showed her around the small studio apartment and sent her off to have a shower. And she was thankful for it. She felt so dirty after so many days in that bloody chair.
She tried not to spend too much time in the shower. She didn't want to come off as ungrateful or something. She stayed long enough to clean herself, mindful of her injuries. She dried herself with the towel Oliver had given her and dressed, avoiding looking in the mirror. She made that mistake when she was undressing. Her face had some small cuts, but two large bruises: one on her left cheekbone and one on the right side of her jaw. Her arms were littered with cuts and the same with her legs. Oliver had said that other than the cut that needed stitches, nothing else should scar. That was something at least.
The clothes Anatoly had brought her were some sweatpants, a T-shirt and a sweat jacket. They were a little big on her, but she was thankful for the clean and comfortable clothes. She used a brush she found in the bathroom pulled her hair in a braid. She was thankful she always had a hair elastic on her wrist. Oh, the small things in life.
She straightened the bathroom as best as she could and hand washed the underwear she had been wearing. Those were going to come in handy. She hung them behind the door to dry and picked the dress she had been wearing. It was bloody and torn. No sense in trying to clean it. She threw it in the trash and got out of the bathroom.
"Anatoly wants me to teach you about the brotherhood." He told her when he saw her.
"Oh?"
"The business side of it, not how to kill." He clarified. "How we make money and how we … invest said money. The rules inside the family. And his wife will come by in a few days to teach us about Russian weddings and the Bratva traditions."
"Right. Do you know what they di with my glasses? I'm going to need them for all that." She asked nervously.
"No, I don't. I'll make a few calls, but they're most likely gone. But we can get you a new pair tomorrow. We're going to a department store that's close by, you're going to need clothes and essentials." He told her.
"I don't have any money, Oliver."
"We're as good as married, Felicity. I may not have access to the Queen money right now, but I have a very nice Bratva account. Don't worry about it." He assured her.
"Okay." she nodded. "So, what do I need to know?"
"Have a seat." Waved at the chair in front of her.
Her education as a Bratva wife was about to start.