The first few don’t provide anything useful, but in the fourth one, I find a box knife. My heart races, and I snatch it up.
“Yes,” I whisper, nearly crying again. Quickly, I slide up the blade in the tool and put it against the plastic binding around my wrists. My hands cramp as I drag the knife up and down, but I can feel it start to cut through the plastic.
Footsteps approach.
In a panic, I close the blade and hurry back to where I was sitting. I press my face to my knees again, just like Konstantin last saw me. A moment later, the door opens, and he enters the room again.
“Back so soon?” I ask bitterly.
“Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot, Lucy?”
“What?”
He approaches slowly, leisurely, and puts his hand out in front of me. I stare at it, swallowing hard. If I play stupid, maybe he’ll leave me alone.
“I can’t exactly give you a high five right now,” I mutter.
His amused expression fades away, replaced with a stone-cold glare. “Give me the fucking knife, Lucy.”
“I ...” How could he possibly know?
“Now.” Reluctantly, I drop the knife. I know there’s no point in trying to stab him. That’ll just get me killed even faster. Konstantin bends down and grabs it, putting it in his pocket. “Did you really think you were going to get away that easily?” he asks, once again on the verge of laughing.
He turns and points to the top corner of the room. There, I see a small red light. “That’s a camera,” he explains. “I’m impressed, Lucy. I thought you’d given up all hope, but then that annoying fighting spirit came back again. I’m going to enjoy squashing that out.”
Konstantin squats down and grabs me by the chin again, forcing me to look at him. “Get off me,” I growl.
“But this is so much fun, no? You’ll always be the prey, little mouse. I’ll always be the cat. You had years to move on and couldn’t. I’ll always be chasing you, even in your memories. Even in your dreams.”
The worst part is that he’s right. Even when I was younger, he was always the one thing that haunted me. The one memory that chased me everywhere I went. For a moment there, working with Roman, I fooled myself into thinking that we were the cat, but I now see clearly. That role will always be Konstantin’s.
He pats my cheek softly and traces his fingers over my lips. “Don’t look so sad, Lucy. We’ll have so much fun once I finish with Roman.” He stands, adjusts his suit jacket, and heads to the door.
This time when I’m alone, I don’t stop crying.
Chapter Eighteen
Roman
The closer I get, the stiller the night feels. It’s eerie, like all the animals know I’m coming. Like they’ve run for cover before anyone else. I turn off my headlights as I approach, slowing the car to a creep. There are all kinds of vehicles parked outside. This place is busy.
Keeping as quiet as I can, I park the car dozens of yards away from anyone else, behind a collection of trees. I reach into the back and grab an assault rifle. When I step out, I’m careful not to slam the door. I sling the gun over my arm with the strap and approach the warehouse.
Three men are outside, two talking while the other smokes. I weigh my options. It’s probably best to go for stealth, at least right now. If I go in guns blazing, they’ll have time to prepare themselves. I glance at a beer bottle lying the ground.
Scooping it up, I throw it a few feet away, hard enough to shatter. That gets their attention immediately.
“What the fuck was that?” the one of them in a hat asks.
The one with the shaggy beard shrugs. “No clue.”
“Go look, dumbass.”
“Why can’t you look?” Beard asks, insulted.
“Because I told you to. Now go fucking look.”
Muttering angrily to himself, Beard marches down to the corner of the wall. He barely registers the shattered glass before I grab him by the throat and spin him around, slamming him into the wall. The wind is knocked out of him and he gasps, unable to yell for help.
I pull a silenced pistol from beneath my shirt and place the barrel in his mouth, firing once. He slumps instantly. I drag him further away from this side of the building, around to the back. It’s less visible there. Less of a chance someone might find him and alert the others.
Just as I make it back, someone turns the corner. The one with the cap on.
“What the fuck?” he says suddenly. He glances at the blood on the wall and makes a move for his gun. Lightning quick, I grab his wrist and twist hard, snapping it easily. His lips open and he starts to scream when I cup his mouth with one hand and grab the back of his head with the other. I tug his face towards my knee. There’s a sick crunch. Before he has another chance to call for help, I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him close to me, squeezing the breath from his neck. He struggles, writhing and squirming, but the trauma to his nose and wrist are too much. We stand like that for much longer than I’d like. I only let him go when he’s fully dead.
I grab him and drag him back to where I left Beard. When I return for the other, I don’t see him anywhere. Maybe he went back inside after he finished his smoke. I hurry across the parking lot, ducking behind cars. Now directly across from the massive doors, I can see everyone inside the warehouse.
