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I clench my teeth and force myself to steady my breathing, counting down rhythmically as I take deep, slow breaths. I can’t lose my shit right now. I have to find a way out here.
Standing up, I turn around to get a better look at the room I’m in. It’s little more than an empty box with bare, white walls and a floor tiled in cold marble. Hopelessness begins to build. The room is empty apart from a huge safe at one end. It’s small enough to cross in just a couple of strides, and aside from the heavy door behind me, there’s no way out.
I can’t just accept that.
There has to be a way out of all this.
But even when I crawl along the floor, examining the skirting in the hopes of finding a duct or vent, there’s nothing. Nothing in the ceiling either; it looks like solid concrete. It’s just the door, and from the sound it made when he slammed it shut, it’s made of solid steel. I’m stuck here. Stuck until he decides to come to get me.
That’s if he hasn’t been killed out there.
Oh, dear God!
Panic surges again. If he doesn’t free me, I might die in here. My fragile grip on my frayed nerves slips completely, and I spin and start pounding on the door.
“Help! Let me out!”
I can make out the sound of screams and gunfire, but the door’s so thick that everything is muffled. Is he running around out there? In all that chaos? What if he’s shot?
Please don’t die.
Please, Kirill!
I don’t want to admit it, but as fucked up as it is, he’s my only hope of survival right now. Nobody knows he locked me in here. There might be no one else to get me out. I’m picturing myself stuck in here for days, probably dying of thirst before hunger takes me. Would I run out of air first?
Oh, my God!
“Kirill!” My voice cracks.
Would he even care enough to come for me if he had to make a hasty escape? The man’s a bloodthirsty killer - I have no doubt of it. Why would he come back for me?
He paid a million bucks for you, Tee.
It breaks my heart to think that my only value right now is the cash he spent to buy me. But I don’t have the luxury of self-pity right now.
“Kirill!” I scream again, my voice almost frantic. I keep thumping the door until my fists feel bruised, pausing to rest my forehead against the cool surface when I run out of breath. It’s only when I hear something grating on the other side that I manage to straighten… and then go stiff.
What if it’s not him?!
What if it’s the enemy?
I hadn’t even considered that prospect. The door might open and leave me staring down the barrel of a gun wielded by one of the men who murdered my father. I could be facing one of the bad guys.
What am I thinking?
Kirill is one of the bad guys!
He’s just not one who wants to kill me. At least not yet.
Staggering back from the door, my sneakers scuff over the floor as I prepare to make a mad bolt for freedom. I need to be ready to run for my life if I get half a chance.
The door is yanked open. I stifle a scream with my hand, my blood running cold and my nerve endings firing up simultaneously as I stare at the scene in front of me. And, for a moment, I can’t tell whether to be relieved or dismayed.
It’s him.
He is standing on the other side of the door, battered and bloody. His enormous chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. Yet his eyes remain cool as he runs an appraising glance over me as if confirming that I’m still in one piece.
“Kirill! Thank God,” I blurt. I never thought I’d ever be happy to see him, but my heart surges as I look at him. For a brief moment, I almost throw myself against his chest, stopping myself just in time. Instead, I take in the sight of him. He looks nothing like the unflappable mobster I met when I got here.
