Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
No, that’s wrong. I want to live.
I want that little speck inside me to grow and flourish.
I want to see my daughter, even if it costs me everything.
And… I want Alexei.
I want to feel his arms around me, to burrow into the warm crook of his neck and breathe in his masculine scent. I want it so badly I ache with it, even though it doesn’t make any sense.
All I’ve ever wanted is freedom from him, and now that I have it, all I can think about is going back into his cage.
I must drift off for a bit because when I open my eyes next time, it’s dark, and I’m a little bit less sick. Birgit is nowhere to be found—probably went out for dinner and drinks. I vaguely recall her talking about getting asked out by some guy on a dating app. The two other beds in the room are empty as well, which doesn’t surprise me. The two Italian girls checked out yesterday, and I guess this hostel is not that popular.
I don’t know what woke me. As far as I can tell, I still don’t have to pee, nor am I particularly nauseated, though I’m still quite dizzy. Maybe I’m thirsty? I push up onto my elbow and reach for a glass of water Birgit thoughtfully left for me on the nightstand.
And that’s when I see it.
A shadow.
It steps out of the corner of the room, and the dim light seeping in through the window reveals a man’s silhouette.
A big man’s silhouette.
My first thought is that it’s Alexei.
He’s found me.
Wild, irrational joy surges through me—only to dissolve into icy panic as I catch a whiff of cheap cologne, tobacco, and alcohol.
As I realize there’s a stranger in my hostel room.
Chapter 6
Alexei
If anyone ever told me I’d be collaborating with the Molotov brothers, I’d tell them to check themselves for psychosis. Yet here we are, Valery, Konstantin, and I, huddled over a laptop at night, reviewing the latest discovery from our teams of hackers—who, like us, are actually working together.
They’ve been able to reconstruct Alina’s movements up to the point of her exiting the dress shop and have confirmed that no further footage exists. The surrounding cameras haven’t been tampered with, like I originally thought.
My wife simply didn’t show up in any cameras after she stepped out of that fucking shop and took a few steps down the street.
“If an abduction happened, it would’ve had to take place right here,” Konstantin says, drawing a red circle on the map on the screen. “A dozen feet south, it would’ve been within the range of several cameras. A few feet north, same thing.”
Valery peers at the screen. “There’s an alley right in that blind spot.”
I’ve already spotted the same thing. “That’s where a kidnapper could’ve been hiding.” My voice is as tight as my ribcage. I haven’t been able to take a full breath since I realized that Alina’s brothers aren’t here as some convoluted ploy to throw me off her scent. Nor have I been able to eat or sleep.
It took a while to convince the Molotovs that this is not a ploy on my part to keep them away from Alina, and once they finally accepted that, we got down to business and have been working nonstop, deploying all our contacts and connections to figure out which of our enemies may have been behind this.
Unfortunately, between us and the Molotovs, there are many, many suspects.
“I’ll send a forensic team to that alley first thing in the morning,” Valery says, pulling out his phone. “We’ll see if they find any signs of struggle.”
“Good idea,” I say and straighten. “In the meantime, I’m heading there myself.”
Konstantin looks up from the screen, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Why? You’ll just tamper with potential evidence.”
I bare my teeth at him. “I’m not a fucking idiot. I’ll be careful.”
“I’ll go with you,” Ruslan says, rising from the couch where he was working on his own laptop.
I glower at him, having all but forgotten about his presence. I have no idea why he’s here instead of in his bed, asleep. He’s certainly no fan of the Molotovs, and he hasn’t been actively participating in the search for Alina, focusing instead on matters back home.
Matters like our father. Who’s dying and sending daily demands to see us.
I shove the thought aside. That’s the last thing I want to worry about now. “Let’s go then,” I tell Ruslan curtly and walk over to grab my gun from a nearby table. I stuff it into my belt and cover it with my shirt. My knife is already strapped to my ankle inside my boot, and I have a smaller-caliber gun strapped to my other ankle. But I make a show of getting the weapon anyway, for the Molotovs’ sake. I don’t want them knowing that I’ve been armed this whole time—though they probably suspect it.