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All of which meant they would kill her eventually.
But maybe not just that.
She forced herself to lay down. She needed to sleep, to be alert for whatever was to come.
She tried to think of Olivia but when she closed her eyes all she saw was Meat Face, his words ringing though her mind like a warning.
You heard the boss… No fun. Not yet.
6
Roman
They started across the roof carefully. Dotted with manhole-sized cutouts that had once been used to drop grain into the system of chutes that fed the mini-silos, it was a deadly obstacle course. One wrong move and they’d topple into the abyss below, the fall all but guaranteeing their deaths.
They moved by the light of their tactical headlamps, stepping carefully over and around the yawning holes.
“This place is a fucking death trap,” Tima muttered.
He wasn’t wrong, and Roman knew the roof wasn’t the end of it. He’d seen enough on his way up — painstakingly climbing to set the anchors on each new level — to know the terminal’s interior was a mess, a toppled Jenga-like array of concrete pillars, fallen metal chutes, and the gaping manholes left by their absence.
They would have to move slowly, methodically, and Roman had to breathe through his impatience. Ruby was here — somewhere — but the place was so cavernous, so dilapidated, it could take them hours to pick their way through the mess.
They worked their way down from the roof with their weapons drawn. As Roman had predicted, it was slow going, a delicate dance of movement around the old equipment and debris that filled the building.
It was a chaotic jumble of graffitied walls, metal, and concrete. The chutes that had been used to move grain from the roof to the docks on the canal sprawled every which way inside the building, creating an endless series of obstacles that forced them to go over and around.
It slowed their pace and Roman had to fight against the desire to race through the place like a raging bull, tearing it apart in his quest to find Ruby.
The place was quiet as a tomb and Roman tried not to think about what that might mean for Ruby. Was she even still alive? Had his father been acting in good faith when he'd offered Ruby's release in exchange for Roman’s surrender?
He pushed the thought under a mountain reason. The guards were working in shifts, had probably been doing so for weeks. That meant only one thing: a hostage.
And there was only one hostage worth so much of his father's time and resources.
Roman kept moving, leading his small team off the roof and through the twelfth floor.
Then the eleventh.
Tenth…
Ninth…
It seemed to take forever, although they moved as efficiently as a military unit, using hand signals and occasionally whispered commands into their comms.
The staircases were the worst, both dangerous and noisy. Roman tested each tread, half expecting the rusty structures to crumble under his feet. Then came the careful stepping down, their boots sounding too loud on the metal treads no matter how carefully they moved.
They were starting down the stairs to the fifth floor — or was it the fourth? — when Roman heard voices.
He held up his arm, his hand in a fist to stop the rest of the group. He listened, training his ears to the silence left in the absence of the soft footfalls of his team.
He hadn't imagined it. Somewhere below, the deep voices of men echoed through the dilapidated building.
"We got company," Roman murmured.
Max's voice sounded in his ear. "Fuck that. They've got company.”
Roman resisted the urge to remind the men that Ruby was the priority. He'd said it countless times.
