Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
After returning his now-balled hand to his side, he cranks his neck to the doctor frozen at the side of my bed. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Ghost’s voice is a roar, and it shudders my heart out of my chest, but before I can hunt for it, he grabs the doctor by the neck, folds him in two with a stern punch to the stomach then brings his face to within an inch of mine. “Why is she crying?”
“Sh-she’s not crying.” His eyes plead with me to back up his claims when he lies. “It’s sweat. It is hot in here.”
Ghost’s icy blue gaze locks with mine for barely a second before they shift back to the doctor. Then even quicker than that, he snatches the gun off the bedside table, pushes it to the back of his skull, and fires one shot.
I inwardly scream when blood and brain matter splatter over my nightie, neck, and face. They turn vocal when Ghost loosens his grip on the doctor’s neck, causing his slumped frame to land on top of me. His mutilated head flops straight onto the area he was trying to stimulate but failed.
When the blood oozing out of the wound drips down the crevice of my vagina, I scamper back before lifting my eyes to Ghost. He’s not as white as a ghost. He doesn’t appear affected at all that he just murdered a man. He merely stares at me, waiting for me to respond, so who am I to disappoint him?
With my brain shut down and my teachings out the window, I push on Ghost’s blood-splattered chest, then make a break for it. I follow the path Ghost guided me through only minutes ago before racing down the corridor that shunted me back into his life, but instead of seeking the closest exit, I sprint for the stern of the ship. The boat is moving, so it is pointless heading for the gangway.
Ghost follows me, but he doesn’t intervene, not even when I climb the railing to the top rung.
The wind whipping off the coast plays havoc with my words when I shout, “Don’t touch me, or I’ll jump.”
He moves to the far left of the railing, balances his hip on the sea-battered steel, dangles his head so the scarred side of his face is hidden in the shadows of the moonlight, then folds his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not touching you.” A haughty gleam flashes through his exposed eye before he asks, “But he did, didn’t he?” His lips curve on one side when I shake my head. “You should have said yes, маленький ягненок. It would have saved you a year in hell.”
When he pushes off the railing, I hold my hand out in warning. “I will jump.”
My warning doesn’t lessen his strides in the faintest. “I’m not going to pull you down. If you want to jump, jump.” He strays his eyes down my body for what feels like the final time before he murmurs, “Letting you pick your exit could be the kindest thing anyone will ever do for you,” then he leaves me alone on the stern of the boat, peering down at the temperamental waters that will swallow me under in not even a second.
7
GHOST
Uncharacteristic silence encroaches the dining room when a vision of white enters from the far left of the room. Grigori’s blood has made her nightgown even more disheveled, and the wind whipping off the coast has tangled her vibrant red hair into grubby knots, but she can still stun a room into silence.
She has a face you’ll never forget and a body you’d sell millions to feast on just once.
Three point eight million, to be precise.
When she entered my office, I thought the hefty knock my bank account took four years ago was finally going to be recouped, that years of carnage and sacrifices were about to be repaid in full.
I was a fool.
I kill for Kirill.
I maim for him.
Yet the one thing he knew I wanted more than a scar-free face he took for himself.
We didn’t return to America to make amends with the comrades who stabbed us in the back four years ago by placing the blame solely on our shoulders. We’re not even restocking the men’s pride they lost after years of setbacks like it was announced before we set sail.
We came for her—the absolute meaning of perfection—and Kirill Bobrov’s soon-to-be Virgin Mary.
8
KATIE
You realize you value life more than you could ever comprehend when you choose to walk into a room full of murderous, vile men instead of plunging to death into an icy grave.
Ghost’s eyes are the only ones I recognize when I enter the space bustling with over four dozen men, so I keep them locked on him while waiting for further instructions.