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Forcing the dark thought aside, I ride the elevator down with Viktor in silence.
“What’s going on?” I ask when I can’t stand it any longer.
I told Alina I wouldn’t run, and I won’t. I’ll face whatever is coming like a man—and I will accept the fate she’s chosen for me. Still, I would rather not walk blindly into the situation.
“One of our cars went missing last night. Cops found it wrapped around a lamp post in Southie a few hours ago.”
Viktor’s dark fury sounds more intense than I would have imagined he could feel for a joyride gone wrong, and I glance sharply at him as we stride toward his sapphire-blue Corvette.
“They find who took it?” I ask, trying to work through the underlying animosity in his tone.
He snorts, throwing his door wide and slipping inside.
I follow suit, focusing on his face as it twists into a snarl. He brings the motor purring to life and throws the car in reverse before he answers.
“Yeah, Alina,” he says.
My stomach drops as I picture her behind the wheel as she hits a street light hard enough to wrap a car around it.
“At least, that’s my best guess, considering she’s apparently gone missing. Her friend Katie just called in a full-on panic because Alina said she was going to come over late last night but she never arrived. Guess Katie’s been trying to reach her all morning, and when she couldn’t, she called the house to see if Alina decided to stay home.”
“Blyat.” Heart breaking into a sprint, I stare out at the city traffic unfolding ahead of us. All my concerns about my cover being blown vanish from my mind, and I’m vibrating with the need to do something.
Viktor says something else to me, but I can’t make out his words over the ringing in my ears. All I hear is that Alina is missing.
9
ALINA
Something creaks behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Terrified and trembling uncontrollably, I can’t stop myself from jumping at even the slightest sound. Not that I could do anything about it if the haunting sounds of this old, abandoned house were indications of danger.
I’m tied to a chair, still wearing the gag that’s soaked up all the moisture from my lips and mouth, leaving me parched, my throat raw like I’ve swallowed a bag of sand. I’m sure the screaming didn’t help. And after hours of calling for someone—anyone—I’ve lost all hope.
We drove for what felt like hours after those men threw me into a crate in the back of their SUV. Whether that was to disorient me or because they’ve taken me far from Boston, I can’t say.
All I know is the neighborhood we wound up in has long since been abandoned. The houses lining the street where we stopped have most definitely been condemned. If anyone resides near where I’m being kept, they’re likely homeless, doped up addicts who wouldn’t dare intervene.
The dark room around me is obscured by a single floodlight that swings softly above me, illuminating me as it keeps my eyes from seeing anything outside the brilliant spotlight.
A bone-deep chill turns my fearful trembling into violent shudders. If it weren’t for the gag separating my teeth, I have no doubt they would be chattering uncontrollably. All I left the house with was my loose-fitting sweater, and that’s not nearly enough in this cold, damp room with countless holes in the walls that invite the gusty drafts to torment me.
The tears have long since dried on my cheeks. I feel so dehydrated, I’m not sure I could call upon more if I tried. The salty remains of my crying make my eyelids feel like sandpaper every time I blink.
Still, I fight to keep my eyes open because I want to know the minute my abductors return.
Something groans somewhere beneath me. A door? A person? Another prisoner, like me? I hold my breath as soft murmurs follow a moment later. Oh, God, they’re back.
Cold sweat breaks out across my skin, betraying my sense of dehydration as it leaves me shivering so hard I’m on the brink of convulsions.
Heavy boots tromp up stairs that hardly sound like they’re strong enough to live up to the task of bearing such weight. Then, the rotting door in the corner of my prison cell slowly groans open.
Several men enter the room. Among them are my two captors—the big guy with broad shoulders and his smaller counterpart who is no less intimidating. At the head of the group stands another towering figure, and as he steps into the floodlight’s harsh glow, I realize he’s horribly disfigured.
My heart flutters, the air freezing in my lungs at the look of pure hatred in his gaze. And despite the fact that I’ve been strapped so tightly to my chair that I have nowhere to go, I lean as far back as I can manage.
From the milky tint to his right pupil, I would guess he’s blind in one eye. Still, if looks could kill, I’d be dead already from the one eye that glimmers with unbridled loathing. The burn scars that mar almost every inch of exposed flesh make it look as thought his face was nearly melted off. And though he wears a ball cap pulled low on his brow to hide it, I can tell he must have endured something horrible to bear such scars.
With cold fury, he approaches me slowly, and I cringe away from him, flinching as his hands grasp the arms of my chair so he can get right in my face.
