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“Korum, please, he didn’t know! It was all me –”
The dancers around them realized that something unusual was going on, and a ring of spectators was starting to form around them.
“Please, don’t kill him!” she begged, grabbing at Korum’s arm in desperation. “Please, I will do anything –”
“Oh, you will,” he said softly, “you will do anything I want regardless.”
Peter’s face was turning purple, and the frantic clawing of his fingers was slowing. There were panicked cries from the crowd, but no one dared to intervene.
“PLEASE!” screamed Mia hysterically, tugging uselessly at his arm. He didn’t even look at her.
And then he suddenly released Peter, letting his body drop to the floor with a thump.
The crowd gasped as Peter drew in air for the first time, choking and gagging.
Sobbing, Mia nearly collapsed in relief. Her hands were still holding Korum’s forearm, and she let go, taking a step back.
He didn’t allow her to get far. His hand shot out, steely fingers wrapping around her upper arm.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for arguments.
And Mia went with him, ignoring shocked stares from the people around her.
She was certain now that she would not survive this night.
There was no limo waiting for them. Instead, he hailed a cab and tersely gave the address of his building to the driver.
The ride was mercifully short. He didn’t speak to her at all, the silence in the cab interrupted only by the sound of her quiet weeping.
She’d always known that Ks had great capacity for violence, but she had never witnessed it in person. Korum had always been so careful, so gentle with her . . . It had been difficult for Mia to imagine him tearing apart a human being – like those Ks had done with the Saudis. But now she knew that he was no different, that he could snuff out a human life as casually as swatting a fly.
She didn’t want to die. She felt like she had barely started living. Thoughts tumbled around in her mind, frantically searching
for a way out and finding none. Would he interrogate her first? She didn’t know anything of significance, but he might not believe her. She shuddered at the thought of torture. She’d never experienced real pain, and she didn’t know if she could withstand it. The last thing she wanted was to die like this, sniveling and begging for her life. If only she were braver –
They arrived at the building, and he dragged her out of the cab, still holding her arm. Her legs were weak with fear, and she stumbled on the stairs. He caught her and lifted her in his arms, carrying her through the lobby and into the penthouse elevator. The warmth of his body felt wonderful against her frozen skin, reminding her of the other night he’d carried her like this – under vastly different circumstances.
Once inside the apartment, he set her down on the couch and went to the closet to hang up his jacket. Of course, Mia thought resentfully, he wanted to be as comfortable as possible for the upcoming torture and mutilation.
To her utter mortification, she felt a strong urge to pee, her bladder nearly bursting from all the earlier drinks. She desperately wanted to hold on to her last shreds of dignity – dying while peeing her pants seemed like the ultimate humiliation.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “can I go to the bathroom?”
He nodded, a small mocking smile appearing on his lips.
Mia went as quickly as her shaking legs could carry her. Once inside, she quickly relieved herself and washed her hands. Her fingernails had a faint bluish tinge, she noticed, and the warm water felt almost scalding on her icy hands.
Finishing, she stared at the closed door and the flimsy lock on it. It was useless, she knew. But she didn’t want to go out there. For some strange reason, the thought of her blood spilling all over the cream-colored furniture was too disturbing. She would wait here, she decided. He would undoubtedly come get her in another few minutes. But when these might be the last moments of her life, every second counted.
She sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi and waited. It felt like an eternity had passed. Her reflection in the mirrored wall looked nothing like her normal self, from the provocative purple dress to the raccoon-like circles around her eyes from the smeared mascara. It was oddly fitting that she would die looking like this – not at all like the Mia Stalis from Florida that her family knew and loved. At the thought of their grief, a sharp pain sliced through her chest, and Mia nearly doubled over from the force of it. She couldn’t think about this now. If she did, she would break down and plead for her life, and it was strangely important to retain at least a semblance of pride –
There was a knock on the door.
Mia stifled a hysterical giggle. He was being polite before he killed her.
“Mia? What are you doing? Open the door and come out.” He sounded annoyed.
Mia didn’t respond, her eyes trained on the entrance.
