Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 97448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
His brow furrows the more we talk. “This is so fucking confusing. I’m gonna win. End of story.”
“Too new,” I tell Adrian.
“Too inexperienced,” he replies.
“He’s going to learn the hard way.”
“And we’re going to enjoy watching every second of it.”
“Hey!” He stares between us. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I’m about to reply, when my phone vibrates in my hand. I look at the screen and pause.
Sure enough, it’s a text from an anonymous number. I expected them to get in touch sooner rather than later to ask for a meeting, but what I didn’t expect was this message.
We have your wife. Be here in an hour alone, or she dies.
My hand tightens around the phone and my jaw clenches so hard, I’m surprised a tendon doesn’t snap.
The fucking—
They must’ve kidnapped her on the way back from visiting Anton. I call Viktor, but I gothe call goes straight to his voicemail.
I briefly close my eyes, trying to purge the worst-case scenario. If they’d kidnapped her, Viktor would’ve told me right away.
Unless they killed him and took her.
I scroll to the tracker and pause. The location is about forty-five minutes away.
“What’s wrong?” Adrian asks, seeming to have caught on to the sudden change in my demeanor.
“I’m going to need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Infiltrate a security system if there’s one.”
“Which one?”
“I’ll text you the details while I’m on the way.” I stand up and stare at Damien. “I just got offended, so you have the green light to kill everyone at the location I’m sending you to. Everyone but my wife and Viktor.”
On my way out, I call Maksim. He answers after two rings. “Maks speaking.”
“It’s time.”
His voice hardens. “Yes, Boss.”
I knew they’d do this, but they made a terrible mistake: getting Sasha involved.
It’s not the first, but it’ll certainly be the last mistake they make.
26
SASHA
Drip.
Drip.
Drip!
I slowly open my eyes, bracing myself for the image of my family members’ dead bodies and their blood splashing on my face.
A groan sounds from my right, followed by a low curse and a “Come on!”
I look up, but instead of the bodies hanging above my head, there’s a dark green roof full of spots of black mud at the corners. Cracks spread across the walls like sporadic spiderwebs.
A repugnant stench of humidity makes it hard to inhale properly. My lungs suffocate with every breath, nearly triggering a claustrophobic reaction I never knew I had.
There’s no window, and the only exit is a rusty metal door. Couple that with flickering fluorescent lights, and it’s like a scene from the army’s interrogation room.
The dripping sound comes from a wobbly faucet that’s spilling into a yellowish sink in the corner.
The source of the groaning, however, is Viktor, who’s sitting on a metal chair beside me. Both of us are bound with thick plastic straps that create uncomfortable friction.
I release a breath after I’ve made sure he’s alive and well, despite the dry blood that trickles down his temple.
If something happened to Viktor, Kirill wouldn’t be able to cope, so I’m beyond relieved that he made it.
I rack my brain to think of the reason we’re here.
The last thing I remember was seeing Babushka before someone knocked me out. I assume they did the same to Viktor, but he probably struggled more, which explains the wound he has.
I remember nothing after that except for waking up here.
Judging by the way Viktor is struggling in the chair, it doesn’t look like he can undo the bindings. I test them myself, but they’re strapped too tight all over my arms, chest, and my legs.
“Any luck?” I sound a bit groggy, and I have to clear my throat.
Viktor directs his attention at me and shakes his head. “I’ve been trying to no avail.”
If he can’t make an escape, it’ll be hard for me to come up with an alternative.
Just when I’m thinking of the logistics of trying to flip one of us over or sitting back to back to help one another, the door creaks open.
Both of us freeze as our kidnappers walk inside.
I already saw Babushka earlier with her closed-off expression and terrorizing cane, but the other two who accompany her are a surprise.
My jaw nearly hits the floor as the three of them stop a safe distance away from us.
Babushka stands in the middle and slams her cane on the ground in a clear demand of attention, but I couldn’t look at her even if I wanted to.
My focus is stolen by the other two.
One is Uncle Albert, and while that’s predictable, the third presence isn’t.
Even Viktor narrows his eyes on her, despite still struggling in his chair.
The person who’s staring down at us with her holier-than-thou expression is none other than Yulia.
She looks as elegant as ever in a dark red dress and black designer heels. Her golden hair is pulled into a French twist, and her arms are crossed over her chest.