I’m desperate to escape this place, to feel sunlight on my skin, to be free. I need to find Zane. No way do I actually believe he’s dead. I need to get out of this place. Away from these crazy criminals.
The two men look away from me and back at each other, engaging in some kind of silent conversation. Then the silence breaks and the one closest to me, yells down the hall, “Ivan, we’ve got an issue over here.” I jump, startled by the darkness in his voice.
Oh god, are they going to kill me? What’s going to happen next? Panic bubbles up inside of me, but neither of them makes a move toward me.
For a few moments, we all just stand there looking at each other until the man named Ivan joins the other two in the hallway.
As soon as I see him, I instinctively take another step back. It’s like my body knows how dangerous this guy is. I thought the two men who opened my door were big, this Ivan guy looks like he could eat both of them for breakfast, and then me. Strangely, my eyes snag on a tattoo that is peeking out of his collar and winding up his neck. It makes him look even more intimidating, not that he needs it, his size and the harsh look on his face is enough.
Yes, they are definitely going to kill me.
“She says she works at the animal shelter; they took her and have been keeping her here. She doesn’t know why,” one of the men explains to this Ivan guy, who I’m assuming is their boss. Ivan stares down at me, and I try not to look like a cat that’s ready to hiss and claw her way out of this room.
“Go, clear the rest of this place. I’ll deal with this myself,” Ivan growls, and I almost pee my pants right then.
The two men disappear from view, their heavy footfall getting further and further away, and all I can do is look at this mountain of a man filling the entire door frame and bite my tongue to stop myself from begging those other guys to come back.
“What’s your name?” he asks softly, finally breaks the silence after staring at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out. His voice doesn’t match his appearance one bit. He’s like the devil but with a heavenly voice.
“Dove… Dove Miller,” I stutter, trying to keep my voice even, though it doesn’t seem to help.
“Look, Dove, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come with us until we can verify that you are who you say you are and that you don’t know anything of importance to us. If you’re telling the truth and you are no one and know nothing, then you’ll be free to go… as long as you can keep your mouth shut.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn’t.
Ivan looks at me blankly, there isn’t a sliver of emotion in his eyes. “Let’s not think about that right now.”
Instantly, I feel as though I’ve been tossed into the ocean. I’m bleeding out. The sharks are circling in on me. Who will bite first? I should’ve listened to Zane. Should’ve believed him when he said there were far worse monsters in this world than him.
“Okay,” I answer because what else am I going to say? No, just leave me here to die? That’s not really an option.
Moving out of the doorway, he motions for me to exit, and just as my feet pass the threshold, he says, “If you run, I’ll shoot you, and I really don’t want to have to do that.”
A second ago, I was tempted to run, to try and escape, but the threat in his words revealed the truth. If he had to, he really would shoot me. I choose not to run. Hopefully, it’s not the biggest mistake of my life.
3
It takes me a few days to heal up, which drives me batshit crazy. My bullet wounds aren’t completely healed, but they’re as good as it’s going to get for now. I should be out there, searching the globe for Dove, burning cities to the ground and slaughtering people, not sitting in a bed, staring at my hands, willing answers to appear out of thin air. However, I can’t do a damn thing without weapons and the information that Matteo promised me.
He says he’s got eyes and ears everywhere, and if Christian makes one move, he’ll know about it. So far, he hasn’t done squat shit because Matteo hasn’t come to deliver any new information to me. I shove out of the cot and come to stand, my boots scuff against the marble floors. I hate this place. I hate that I’m stuck being someone else’s little bitch, but more than anything, I’m afraid. Afraid of what’s happening to Dove.