Chapter 158
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1/0
6:21 pm
Chapter 158
$5 vouchers
When the lock disengaged again I was standing by the bed, arms crossed over my chest, trying to look less like prey. And probably failing miserably.
They didn’t enter this time, they just stood there in the hallway. The one who spoke earlier jerked his head. Come.
I took a shaky breath and walked toward them.
We started down the dimly lit hallway. They fell into step slightly behind me, one on each side.
My skin prickled. This was it. The walk to whatever passed for Anatoly’s office.
I tried to control my breathing, but my thoughts were racing. If they hadn’t killed me yet, they probably weren’t going to. They needed me for something.
That meant I had value. That meant I could push.
Maybe.
The hallway seemed to stretch out forever in front of us. My heart started to hammer again, but this time it was from adrenaline, not fear.
This idea was stupid, and reckless, and I had no idea why I was doing it. But…
I took a deep breath, tensed the muscles in my legs, and ran.
I pumped my arms and legs, expecting a bullet in the back at any second.
I heard a sharp exclamation behind me. The sound of boots scuffing on concrete as they reacted.
I didn’t understand the words they were barking at each other in Russian, but the tone was one of annoyed surprise.
I made it maybe twenty feet before an arm locked around my waist from behind.
The air left my lungs in a whoosh.
One of them lifted me effortlessly, my feet kicking uselessly in the air, and swung me up and over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
The world tilted, and I was staring at the back of his suit jacket. He smelled terrible.
He didn’t even break stride. He threw his arm across the backs of my thighs and continued walking. His partner said something and he grunted a reply.
My grand act of rebellion had been a minor inconvenience, dealt with in seconds. But it had told me a lot about my place here.
I had known it wouldn’t lead to an escape. I just wanted to see how they’d respond.
We stopped at a door that looked just like all the others. The guard who wasn’t carrying me typed a code into the keypad. E
heard a clunk.
I struggled to see around the guard’s back as the door opened into a large, cold room dominated by a massive wooden
conference table.
Anatoly sat at the head of it, reading a file. He didn’t look up when we entered.
2/6
Chapter 158
PTT.
My cayer weichs into the room and commonly dunged me into a hi–backed leather chair near Actuary. The ingers jerred my weath
I scrambled to stop straight horesby fully behet up for han progers. His gaze verge over me, then get me so the pound whold carried me in
He said vanething, in Russien. His vor va da registr
The guard’s reply wounded a litle nervous 1 didit seed to understand the words to feed the sudden tension in the mom
Munchy’s expression didn’t change. He nodded donery, like he was processing a mildly interesting piece of data
Then his hand dipped into his suit jacket and came on belding the same degant revolver from the ralyard.
My heart jumped into my throat
He didn’t take a second to aim. He didn’t stand up. He extended his arm across the table and shot the guard in the head.
It was deafening A sharp, final crack. The guard didn’t even cry out. There was a heavy thad as his body hit the concrete floor
I stared at him with my breath trapped in my throat. Blood started to seep out from under his head, and mine snapped back up to look at Anatoly
He lowered the gun and looked at the other guard, who was standing rigid by the door.
“We are not animals, are we, Igor?” Anatoly asked in English
Igor cleared his throat. “We are not, sir. I tried to reason with him.”
Anatoly nodded. “Go. Take him with you.”
Igor walked over, bent down, and with a grunt of effort, hauled his dead comrade up by the armpits. The corpse’s heels dragged twin trails through the pool of blood as Igor backed out of the room.
The door closed behind him.
The lock thunked shut.
I was alone with Anatoly and his gun.
The smell was the worst part. Gunpowder and blood. It filled the room, my mouth, my lungs.
Anatoly watched me with a look of mild curiosity. Like he was waiting to see what I would do next.
He leaned back in his chair. “Did you sleep, Hailey?” he asked casually. Like he didn’t just blow someone’s brains out directly behind me.
I couldn’t find my voice. I shook my head.
“A pity. Water? Vodkat” He gestured to a beverage cart tucked into the corner of the room
“What time is it?” 1 rasped.
His smile was thin “Does it matter?”
8/0
632 pm PTT
Chapter 108
He was right. It didn’t. 1 shook my head again, and my eyes drifted back to the stain on the floor.
He stood, and I flinched. He walked to a small console on the wall and pressed a button.
A projection screen came down silently from the ceiling at the far end of the table. He pointed a remote at the ceiling, and a projector flickered to life.
“I find review to be a valuable tool,” he said. “It provides clarity”
1 braced myself as the white square of light on the screen turned into black and white footage.
The railyard.
The perspective was from high up, looking down. I saw myself. A small figure in a giant black hoodie, standing alone in the circle of light. I swallowed hard.
I watched the Mercedes roll in, saw Anatoly get out. I saw them drag Shawn out. I lived it all again, from this godlike, terrifying angle. I saw myself offer the trade. I saw Anatoly shoot Shawn.
Then I watched Sam emerge from the shadows and press her hands to Shawn’s shoulder.
I saw headlights, then two bikes skidding to a halt. Logan and River.
Anatoly pressed a button on the remote, and the footage zoomed in.
I saw the raw desperation on Logan’s face as he charged toward the scene. I saw him kneel next to Sam and lean close to Shawn.
His expression went from hope to fury to something gutted and awful as Shawn spoke. His hands started to shake.
I heard every word of Sam’s explanation. The dawning horror on Logan’s face was a physical pain in my chest.
I watched the cops and ambulances arrive in a wave of chaos and light.
I watched the club arrive, and I watched Logan and River leave with them, tearing off into the night. Undoubtedly chasing the tracking signal from the earpiece I’d been wearing.
In the wrong direction.
A sob finally broke free. I clapped a hand over my mouth, biting down hard on one of my fingers. I would not. I would not give him this.
Anatoly clicked the remote, and the scene changed.
It was a color image now, crisp and clear. A modest suburban house at dawn, with a neatly trimmed lawn. A light was on in the living room window.
I knew that house.
My aunt’s house in Montana.
A timestamp glowed in the top right corner 8:40 AM
with a flashing red dot beside it This was a live feed.
The camera zoomed in slowly until it was focused on the window. The curtains were open. I could see my mother sitting on the couch, blanket over her legs, drinking a cup of coffee. My aunt walked into the frame and sat down beside her.
4/0
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
