Kitten — Nikto x FMC
Part 3 of my Princess of the Cold North series.
Chapter 1 — An Unsettling Reunion
Freya’s head throbbed, the rough fabric of the bag over her head making it hard to breathe. Her arms were tied so tightly in front of her that her wrists felt like they were burning.
And then there was the agony in her shoulder. Sharp, unforgiving—she could feel the bullet still lodged in the muscle, every beat of her heart pulsating fresh pain. She tried to stay still, but the pain forced a soft whimper from her lips.
Immediately, she heard movement.
Footsteps.
They knew she was awake.
Rough hands grabbed her, fingers digging into her arms as they forced her to sit up against the wall, ignoring her wounded shoulder. She growled, trying to resist, kick with her legs at their feet, but it was useless.
“Get your hands off me, you fucking kumquats!” she snarled, her voice hoarse.
No one responded.
Instead, they ripped the bag off her head, and she blinked against the blinding light. The air in what looked like a cargo room was cold and humid, heavy with the smell of sweat and metal.
One of them—a faceless captor in tactical gear—knelt beside her, holding up a small pill between his gloved thumb and index finger.
“For the pain,” he said flatly. The words a command, not a suggestion.
Her throat was dry, her body trembling from the pain and the cold. She hesitated, but the sharp agony in her right shoulder made the choice for her.
She opened her mouth willingly, feeling his gloved fingers force the pill into her mouth, feeling the bitterness of it against her tongue before they shoved a bottle of water against her lips, forcing her to drink. She swallowed, grimacing, and they yanked the bottle away, leaving her choking on the aftertaste.
They hovered above her, talking in low voices she couldn’t fully understand. Then, without another word, they walked away, leaving her there up against the wall of the cold cargo room, alone.
Or, at least that’s what she thought.
The silence stretched for another moment, her mind racing, trying to piece together what had happened—how she ended up here.
Airstrip.. recon..
She could recall a short chase through the woods.
Gunshot.. darkness..
Her body was heavy with exhaustion, the painkillers already dulling her senses, but the ache in her shoulder still throbbed.
You really screwed up this time, huh Freya..
Then, she heard it.
A voice.
Soft, low, but unmistakable.
“Oh, kitten.”
That voice.
Her blood turned to ice. No, it couldn’t be. Her head snapped to the side, her eyes scanning the dimly lit cargo hold, looking for the source.
And then she saw him, sitting further down, tied to the bars behind him on the wall like an animal.
His face was swollen and bruised, blood crusted on his already deformed lip, but it was him—it had to be. There was no mistaking that voice.
Nikto.
She had never seen his full face without his mask, but she didn’t need to to recognize that voice, that accent.
Those eyes..
He smiled, a twisted, almost feral grin. “You’re finally awake. I can see you’re thrilled to see me.”
She stared, the shock leaving her speechless. She hadn’t seen him since.. since...
The memories rushed back, the terror, the violence, the things he’d done. Her stomach twisted, and for a moment, the pain in her shoulder was eclipsed by something darker—something colder.
He shifted against his restraints, wincing and cursing in Russian as his bruised body protested.
“I take it they got you too?” he asked sarcastically, his tone light, as if they were old friends chatting over coffee. “Fucking idiots, don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe this was happening. The world seemed to stop, reality warping under the weight of his presence.
She swallowed hard, trying to force the bile back down, trying to stay composed despite the growing storm inside her. The pain in her shoulder flared, reminding her of her situation, and she bit down hard on her lip to keep from showing it.
Despite the pain she was in, she couldn’t take her eyes off him—off his face. She could remember seeing his lips back then, and what looked like a chemical burns around his left eye—but this?
The entire left side of his face was burned, scarred. From the top of his head, to what looked like his neck. She couldn’t see further thanks to his shirt, the thought of his entire body looking like this made her feel somewhat sad.
There were barely any eyebrows left on him, and the hair that grew close to the burns on his head had turned white, while the rest of his dark brown, almost black hair on his head was cut nicely—shorter on the sides, a little too long on the top, but it suited him.
“If you’re not going to say anything I’d appreciate it if you would stop staring. I know I’m not exactly a pretty sight.”
Nikto’s voice was too casual, too relaxed, considering their situation.
He shifted again, his eyes never leaving hers. “Please, kitten, talk to me. Let me hear that fire—let me hear that mouth that got you into this mess.”
Her breathing was ragged as she tried to ignore his words. She sat there, muscles tense, eyes darting between the shadows, trying to make sense of her surroundings still, her eyes locking with his again.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Fate’s got a funny way of bringing people back together.”
“Shut up,” she finally snapped, her voice brittle and strained.
She shifted against her own restraints, the ropes biting into her skin, and flinched as the movement jostled her wounded shoulder. The pain was close to unbearable, and the painkiller they had given her did little to ease the pain—as if it was only meant to dull her senses.
“Last thing I need right now is your bullshit.”
He tilted his head, studying her like a predator watching its wounded prey, his lips slowly curving into a half-smile.
“I’ve missed that fire. You always had a mouth on you.” His eyes flicked to her shoulder, blood seeping through the torn fabric. “And look at you now, all banged up. Doesn’t suit you at all, kitten.”
The memories of their last encounter flooded her head—the violence, the torture that still haunted her dreams, those who kept her up most nights.
She shook them away, refusing to let him see her break. “Save your fucking commentary.”
He leaned back against the wall, his smile never fading. “You know, I’ve thought about you a lot. Wondered when you’d pop back up on my radar. Didn’t think it’d be in a situation like this, though.” He glanced around the cargo room, his expression bored. “Pretty shitty place for a reunion, huh?”
What did he want? How did he end up here together with her? She didn’t want to seem desperate for answers, but she had to ask.
“Why the fuck you are here?” she asked, ignoring his previous words.
He laughed, a dark, humourless sound that echoed off the metal walls.
“Same thing as you, I imagine. Got caught sniffing around where I wasn’t supposed to. Though I have to admit, seeing you here is a nice surprise. Brings back memories, doesn’t it, kitten?”
Ignore him. Don’t let him get to you.
She tried to ignore the way his words sent a shiver down her spine, the way his disturbingly attractive Russian accent sounded, the way his voice rumbled and vibrated when he called her his pet name.
“I’m not your fucking kitten. Why don’t you cut the bullcrap and tell me what’s going on? Where are they taking us?”
He shrugged, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his own bruises. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, probably twenty… maybe thirty thousand feet up. Some back-channel operation picked us up. They’re keeping us in the shadows—no names, no faces. They want something, but who knows what. Intel, leverage, maybe just bodies to throw in front of a firing squad. Doesn’t really matter.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And how do you know all that?”
“I’ve been listening. Watching. Unlike you, I haven’t been half-dead this whole time.” His tone softened, feigning concern. “You’ve been out cold since they dragged you in. And by the looks of it, they got you pretty good before they brought you here.”
He eyed her shoulder again, his eyes softening seeing how bad it looked from where he was sitting. He sighed, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.
“You know, kitten, I’ve got a plan. A plan that might be able to get us out of here, but I can’t do it alone.”
“Are you asking me to work together with you? Like for real? Did they hit your head a little too hard, or are you just out of your fucking mind?”
He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Now, now, that’s no way to talk to your only friend in here.”
“You’re not my friend,” she snapped, her voice breaking slightly from the pain and exhaustion. “You’re a fucking psycho who gets off on this shit. I wouldn’t trust you to help me cross the street—”
“You don’t have a choice, kitten,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly cold and sharp. “Take a look around. Your shoulder’s fucked, you’re bleeding out, and you’re tied up in the middle of god knows where with a bullet still in you. Do you really think you’re in any position to argue?”
She clenched her fists, the anger rising in her throat. “Why should I trust you? Last time—”
“Last time was different.” Nikto cut her off again, his voice softer now, though still edged with that familiar menace. “This time, we both want the same thing. To get out of here alive—to survive. Or am I mistaken?”
She didn’t answer immediately. The pain in her shoulder had become unbearable, and she could feel herself growing weaker, more dizzy.
Jesus fucking christ, is it the pill they gave me or what the hell is happening?
Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat sending fresh waves of agony through her. She gritted her teeth, trying to stay focused, trying to push the pain down.
“Fucking hell,” she hissed under her breath, her vision blurring for a moment as a fresh surge of pain tore through her, leaning her head back against the wall, feeling as if she was about to faint. “Fuck me.”
Nikto chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with amusement. “Ask me again when we’re out of this mess, kitten.”
Her whole body tensed as she looked back at him briefly and he at her, a cold shiver running down her spine before she had to look away. His words, his tone—they were all designed to get under her skin, to unsettle her. But he was right—she needed his help.
“I need…” she winced, the words almost choking her as she forced them out. “Fuck. I need you to get this bullet out of me.”
His eyes gleamed with interest, as if he found her request amusing. “ Now you want my help? I was beginning to think you’d rather die before letting me help you.”
“Just… shut up and tell me what to do,” she snapped, her voice faltering as the pain clawed at her insides. “If you don’t, you can forget about your plan.. forget about getting out of here.”
He tilted his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely...”
