His features are tight. “The morning-after pill.”
That takes me by surprise. I guess this particular killer is sensitive to wiping out his spawn after all.
“Open,” he says again, this time with impatience.
When I open my mouth, he puts the pill on my tongue and tips back the bottle for me to swallow. I take a few sips. He catches a drop that runs from the corner of my lips with his thumb.
“I’m assuming there’s no pharmacy on site,” I say. “How did you get it so fast?”
“You’d be surprised by the kind of resources money can buy.” He gives me a cold smile. “Then again, maybe not.”
“When are you going to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Kill me.”
He studies me for a moment. “Did I say I was going to kill you?”
“You didn’t say you weren’t.”
“And clever girls know the unsaid is more important than what’s said.”
“Something like that.”
He smirks.
I lick my cracked lip. “Can I ask you something?”
“You’re not in a position to ask anything.”
“Will you make it quick?”
His eyes flare. At first, he looks taken aback, but then anger replaces his surprise. “You’re asking for mercy?” He shakes his head slowly, giving me a disapproving tsk of his tongue. “The question you should be asking is if you deserve mercy.”
And with that, he leaves me.
* * *
Ilya is with him when Yan comes back with lunch, and by the look of it, Yan isn’t happy about it. This time, Yan leaves the door of the shed open. Heat and sunlight filter in, and my face warms. The smell of sex still hangs in the air, or maybe it’s clinging to my body.
Ilya leans against the wall as Yan feeds me pasta. “How are you holding up?”
Yan shoots him a look.
“What?” Ilya pulls his shoulders up to his ears.
Yan brings another forkful to my mouth. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Hey,” Ilya says, “I’m just trying to be nice.”
Despite the situation, I smile. He’s sweet. “I’m good.”
Now I’m at the receiving end of Yan’s hostile glare.
“Can I get you anything?” Ilya glances at the bottle of water on the ground. “Tea? You like tea, right?”
Yan feeds me the last bite and wipes my mouth on a paper napkin. “This isn’t a hotel.”
“If you need a bath, I could—” Ilya starts, but Yan cuts him short.
“She doesn’t need a fucking bath.” His voice is clipped. “She doesn’t need anything.”
“Are you going to tell her or must I?”
I look between them. “Tell me what?”
Yan glowers at Ilya before turning his attention to me. “Sokolov needs a disguise. You’re doing it tonight.”
“Why?”
“He’s going after Henderson,” Ilya replies.
“Shut up,” Yan says.
“What difference does it make if she knows?”
My chest shrinks. “Are you going with him?”
“Yes,” Yan says. “Ilya and Anton, too.” Mockingly, he adds, “Why? Are you worried?”
The scary part is that I am. Henderson is sly. Dangerous men work for him. What if my kidnappers don’t come back? What if Yan doesn’t come back?
“Stop taunting her,” Ilya says. “Don’t worry. You won’t die of starvation tied up in here. We’ll be back.”
Yan walks over and smacks him upside the head. “Fucking idiot.”
“Hey! What was that for?”
Yan turns to me. “We’ll see you tonight.” He grips Ilya’s arm and pulls him out of the shed.
The door slams, and the rattle of the chain sounds.
* * *
As promised, they return later with Peter Sokolov. Yan unties me while Ilya opens the cases with the props and makeup. I do Sokolov’s disguise. When I hand him the mirror, he gives a satisfied nod, though tension is rolling off the men. What they’re doing is dangerous. Despite Ilya’s promise, there’s a very good chance they may not come back. The guards outside will finish me off, but I prefer that it be Yan. Please let him return. I don’t dare look too deeply at my motivations. Not all of them are selfish.
Sokolov leaves first. Yan takes me out for a bathroom break before tying me back up on the bench and hastily feeding me an empanada. Ilya gathers the makeup. I want to tell Yan to be careful, but I swallow the words. They’d be unwanted.
“Good night, Mina.” Ilya’s smile is guilty. He feels bad about killing me, even if he believes I framed him. Of the two brothers, he’s the one with the heart. Why couldn’t I be attracted to him? “We’ll be back before you know it.”
God, I hope he’s right.
The men make their way to the door. In the frame, Yan turns. He gives me a long look. I want to say many useless things, like tell him not to go. I want to tell him I hope he gets Henderson. Even I have to admit what Henderson did with the bombing was a low blow. I want to tell him the night in Budapest was real. This shed, what we did here, was real, too. But just as I open my mouth, he steps through the door, and he’s gone.
* * *
I toss and turn on the bench, as much as my restraints allow. To say I’m going out of my mind with worry is an understatement. Not even mind control helps to steer my thoughts away from Yan and what’s happening with Henderson right now. Escape is still at the forefront of my thoughts, but I simply don’t see a way. Will I get an opportunity when, or if, Yan returns?
The sun rises. One of the black-clad guards comes inside to feed me bread and weak tea. He hardly looks at me. I’m acutely aware of my nakedness under the shirt and relieved when he leaves quickly, omitting the bathroom break.
The sun moves to a position directly above the shed. I can glimpse it through one of the cracks. Hunger sets in. I got used to being fed. My bladder is full. A long time later, I don’t have a choice but to move over the edge of the bench and relieve myself on the ground.
The same guard
