Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
I squeezed my eyes and dozed again, trying to forget the thought. There was nothing I could do about that now. The only thing I could do was remain calm and wait for Gavril. I had to wait for him. He’d find me.
The next time I opened my eyes, I saw a figure standing in front of me. I blinked a few times, thinking it was my imagination, some intermediary place between waking and a dream. But then, I heard chaos. Feet running across the floor upstairs, men shouting, and the unmistakable ring of gunfire. There was a fight going on. This was real. The shape I’d thought was imaginary moved towards me, and I bolted upright.
“Gavril?”
I moved so suddenly that I got dizzy, holding my bound hands out to catch myself before I could crash back down onto the concrete. He had come for me. I turned and tucked my legs under me, so I was standing up on my knees. Just as I did, the figure at the base of the stairs split into two. Two distinct shapes with two distinct walks, neither of which contained the graceful ease of Gavril’s.
The men stepped into the small amount of light that came from a tinted window high up on the concrete wall. I didn’t recognize either man. I flipped over as fast as I could and began inch-worming towards the far wall.
“No. No. I can’t go. I’m not leaving with you. Do you know who I am?” I asked, tears pouring down my face.
I was tired of being strong. I was tired of being brave. But most of all, I was tired. I wanted this to be over. If we left, there would be another blindfold, another getaway driver, and another trail for Gavril to track. Each step was taking me further and further away from him, and eventually, he’d give up. He’d decide I wasn’t worth the trouble. I decided then that I’d rather die in the basement than be taken anywhere else.
“You’re Samantha Conway. Do you know who we are?” one of the men asked, kneeling down in front of me, his head tilted to the side.
I blinked away my tears, trying to clear my vision, and looked at the man. Again, I was sure I didn’t recognize him from anywhere. I’d never seen him before. I shook my head, unspent sobs still hiccupping in my chest.
“We work for Gavril Stepanov.”
I stared at the two men for a moment. Was this a trick? Was this a new form of torture where they presented me with my greatest wish and then revealed it all to be a lie? Because I didn’t know if I’d survive that.
“Really?” I asked, hardly believing it myself.
The man nodded. His hair was dark black and cropped short to his head. He wore straight-legged jeans and a black tank top.
“Really,” the second man said. He was the opposite of the first man in every way – long blond hair, tight leather pants, white sweater that hung past his wrists. They were the real-life version of what I imagined the angel and devil on my shoulder looked like.
“How did you find me?” I asked, still not allowing myself to celebrate. I needed to know this was real. I needed to be certain.
“Gavril tracked the license plate of the getaway driver, and he gave us the location of your brother,” the blond said.
“Gavril found Devin?” I hated that the idea worried me. I hated that even the smallest part of me cared what was happening to Devin. He deserved every bit of whatever Gavril did to him.
The dark-haired man nodded and then leaned forward with a pocket knife in his hand. I gasped and pulled away, tucking myself into a ball.
“I’ll cut the ropes,” he said.
Slowly, I held my hands out to him, nervous the entire time that he would bring the knife down across my wrists instead. That Devin had decided it wasn’t worth it to fly me across the globe when he could just have one of his followers kill me and dispose of the pieces. Or worse, that the man would jerk the knife away and laugh, revealing that I had fallen for their practical joke.
Instead, he sliced the sharp blade through the ropes, freeing my hands. I rotated my wrists in a circle, grateful for the mobility, and then stretched my legs out straight so he could cut the ties around my ankles. I stood up as soon as he was finished. My body felt unstable, but I gained my land legs back quickly enough. The stiffness and soreness would be with me for a long time, but I was just glad to be standing on two feet.
“Where’s Gavril?” I asked.
“We’ll tell you everything in the car,” the blond man said. “We are supposed to get you out of here as soon as possible.”