Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I thought of what Egan had told me. How worried he had been. He had been correct, and now they had me.
Which meant they had leverage over him.
A door opened, slamming into the wall. I was unable to help myself from jumping at the sudden sound. But I wasn’t prepared when rough hands picked me up, dragging me across the floor, and crashing me into a chair.
“I know you’re awake. Open your eyes.”
I slowly lifted my lids, keeping my head down. The man wrapped a rope around my waist, securing me to the chair. He grabbed my chin and lifted my face. I was met with flat blue eyes. They were like ice, cold and unforgiving. His dark hair hung around his face, and he looked vicious. I had trouble focusing, and my eyes drifted shut again.
“Finally. Stupid idiot put too much chloroform on the rag.” He shook my shoulders roughly. “Stay awake or you’ll be sorry.”
Despite my fear, I drifted, suddenly waking as a hand slapped my face. I opened my eyes, meeting the dark gaze of another man. He smiled, the action making me shiver. He was even scarier than the first guy. His recently broken nose was red and swollen, out of place on the otherwise perfect lines of his face. Perfect, I surmised immediately, due to the skill of a surgeon, not the gift of nature.
“There you are. How are you feeling, Sofia?”
I narrowed my eyes. “As if you care.”
He smiled again. “Ah, but I do.” He brushed my hair off my face, and I jerked back, the movement causing my already aching head to hurt more.
“Don’t touch me,” I spat.
He stood straighter. “A fighter. Of course the deadly ghost would have a fighter as a lover.” He stroked his lip. “How strong a fighter are you, Sofia?”
“Strong enough to survive you. You, however, won’t survive Egan.”
He laughed, the sound without humor. “You don’t get it. Egan will do exactly what I want now. I took his gym, his gallery, and now his most prized possession. You. He’ll do anything to get you back.”
“I’m not a possession, asshole.”
He laughed again and leaned down, testing the ropes that bound me. “You are going to send Egan a little message. Tell him to follow my instructions.”
“No.”
He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Yes. Or he will suffer another loss.”
I glared at him. His face was close, horrific in its anger. “I will take away everything he loves one by one until he does as I say. His friends, Elite, his business partners. His little perfume factory. His home. You. I will take and take until he is broken.” He came closer. So close I could see the bloodshot veins that surrounded his pupils. “Then he will do what I tell him, and after that, the great Egan Vulpe will work for me. He will have nothing left. Not even his soul. He will belong to me.”
I couldn’t move my hands or my feet. I only had one weapon. I dropped my chin, using what little strength I had left, and I smashed my head into his face, catching his already injured nose. He howled at the sudden attack and the pain. I leaned back, admiring my handiwork. Blood flowed between the fingers of the hand covering his rebroken appendage. My head screamed in protest at the agony I caused it, but I didn’t care. I braced myself as I saw the rage descend on his face. He reared back, slapping me, the explosion of pain across my cheek astounding. But I refused to show him my suffering. I grinned at him.
“Hope you have that surgeon on retainer. By the time I’m done with you and Egan finishes, you’ll need a whole new face.”
He removed his hand, the blood flowing freely down his face, dripping from his chin. He turned to leave the room. “You will be entertaining to have around. Enjoy your stay.” He met my eyes, his even colder than they had been a few moments prior. “Shame this is where you will spend your last days on earth.”
Then he walked out.
I had no idea how long I sat there. My head ached. I was thirsty. My body hurt. I was cold—so cold.
I let my head hang and kept my eyes shut, listening. I slowly moved my wrists and feet to try to loosen the rope. I gave up after a while when I felt the rough threads dig into my skin and the sting of the blood rushing to the surface. They were too tight to loosen.
I could hear the voices more clearly now, but they were speaking Russian. I tried to concentrate on the timbres of the voices and decided there were four, maybe five men. Other than the sounds of the wind and the creaking of the building, I couldn’t hear anything else. Nothing to pinpoint where I might be. I lifted my head, trying to find a clue in the small room I was in, but there wasn’t much to go on. Some rusted shelves, a high ceiling, and empty boxes. One corner of the room was missing floorboards, the damage obviously from the water that had seeped in over the years. I shivered as I wondered if the rest of the floor was stable. I tilted my head, peering at the empty boxes. One of them had a label, but I couldn’t see what it said. I tried to stand and get closer, but my legs were too weak and my feet were numb. The ropes allowed them no movement. I knew I would fall and hit my face and maybe knock myself out.