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Anastasia’s shoes announce her arrival before she blocks the light in the hallway from entering my cell. My teeth chatter and my muscles shake as I get to my feet. I won’t let her find me balled up in the corner half frozen.
Metal grinds against metal as the lock slides open. I drop my hands to my sides just as the door swings open.
This time, it’s not Anastasia that walks in. It’s a man. Tall, broad shoulders, bald, with black ink covering his head and neck. I gasp, dread filling me as I press my body as hard as I can against the wall.
“No.” I shake my head. “It can’t be,” I tell myself.
Anastasia steps inside just as a light illuminates in the ceiling. I’m blinded again, and I squint, turning away from the brightness. When my vision finally clears, I see him. It’s not the man from my bedroom. But he looks so much like him.
“This is the girl?” He jerks a thumb at me. No Russian accent. He sounds like he’s from Chicago. I curl my toes into the thin layer of mud on the floor. The mess she made with the water bucket hasn’t been able to dry because of the cold.
“Yes. This is Sharon Whitney. We had her fingerprints cross-checked with our database. It’s her.” Anastasia folds her arms over her chest.
“What is this?” I stupidly ask. I’m so tired, so cold, so thirsty. Nothing in my head is working right.
“She’s all dirty. Once she’s hosed off, she’ll be much prettier. You’ll get top dollar for her, or you can keep her for yourself. You’ve been deprived for a long time from what I understand.” Anastasia glances at me with disgust.
The man walks up to me. His overpowering cologne chokes me.
“Your father killed my cousin.” He raises his hand and brings it down across my cheek, hard. My head snaps to the side.
“Hey. No bruising her until you pay,” Anastasia chastises.
“My dad.” I blink a few times until the stars finally fade from my vision. “He’s dead.”
“I know.” He leans closer to me. “Which isn’t good for you, because now you pay the price for what he did.”
“So you want her then?” Anastasia asks with impatience. “Because if not, I have to get her on a truck in an hour.”
He looks me over again while running his tongue over his teeth.
“Yeah. I’ll take her. She’ll be a good addition to the clubhouse for a while before we put her out to work.”
“No.” I shake my head.
“I lost a cousin because of you. I’d say you owe me.” He turns to look at Anastasia over his shoulder. “But ten less than what you asked. She’s gonna need to be broken in.”
Anastasia thinks it over. “Fine. Ten less. But you take her as is, now. I’m not wasting water and clothing on her.”
“Deal.” He smiles at me. He’s missing a tooth on his left side, and there’s a tattoo on his cheek I didn’t notice before. It’s a symbol of some kind that I can’t make out. Beneath his left eye is a tear drop, another on the right eye. Those I understand.
“Please. Don’t do this. I can get you money. I can pay you whatever you think you’re owed.” I have nothing, and I’m sure he knows it. But I have to try.
He laughs. “Niro, go with Anastasia and get her cash. I’m gonna test this bitch out before we take her.”
“You’re gonna fuck her looking like that?” a man, I assume Niro, calls from behind him.
“Ah, I think her mouth is clean enough.”
My stomach drops.
As he reaches for me there’s an explosion somewhere outside the cell. A flash of heat barrels through the door, which shakes on the hinges.
Anastasia’s eyes go wide.
“What the fuck was that?” she demands.
He grabs hold of her arm just as gunshots blast. Then there’s chaos. Men running, orders being screamed. Everything is in Russian. All I understand is he’s holding me against him, using me as a shield.
