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. I refuse to think that they could’ve killed her. That would not benefit anyone.
Except an enemy who wants the ultimate revenge.
I shut down that thought before it can unravel me completely. Reining in my fury at Alina’s brother, I resume walking swiftly, and Ruslan follows my lead. As Valery falls into step next to us, I ask in as steady a voice as I can manage, “Any theories on why we haven’t been contacted yet?”
“They’re buying themselves time to set up the most advantageous exchange,” Valery answers immediately. “The psychological torment inflicted on us as a result is an added bonus.”
Of course he’s already thought this through. I would have as well if I weren’t so fucking sleep deprived. Not to mention, furious and terrified.
If Alina did get taken, whoever has her will pay a price they couldn’t have imagined. No matter how much they plan and plot, I will find them, and I will obliterate them and everything they’ve ever known and loved.
Spotting the turn to the alley, I quicken my pace. Ruslan and Valery do the same. The tourists we pass wisely move out of our way.
I step into the alley first. At a glance, it’s nothing extraordinary. Small and narrow, it houses a dumpster and not much else. There is a faint odor of trash and urine—drunk tourists likely relieve themselves here—and I spot a semi-dry puddle of something that looks like old vomit on the cobblestones near the dumpster.
It’s likely from the drunk tourists as well. Then again… I turn to Valery. “Tell your forensic team to get that”—I point at the puddle—“tested for DNA. Alina’s been getting sick a lot.”
He nods and pulls out his phone to fire off the message. In the meantime, Ruslan and I advance deeper into the alley, using our phones as flashlights to scan the ground and the walls. I’m looking for blood, scuff marks from shoes, strands of hair—anything that could provide a clue as to what happened to my wife.
Which is why when my gaze lands on the door in the middle of the wall, it takes me a second to register what I’m seeing.
Ruslan is already there, ahead of me. “Why didn’t we know about this?” he asks, touching the worn wood of the frame.
Frowning, I approach. “Because this door isn’t supposed to be here.”
According to the schematics of the nearby buildings that our hackers found, there should be nothing on these walls except a couple of small windows on the second, third, and fourth floors.
“This door could’ve been added after the building was built,” Valery says, appearing at my elbow. “I imagine the residents found it convenient to have more than one exit. If I recall correctly, this is currently a hostel.”
A hostel.
My heartbeat picks up pace.
Why the fuck didn’t we consider this possibility before?
A hostel is a place where a person—say, a stubborn wife on the run—could easily stay for a couple of days, no abduction required.
“Let’s go in,” Ruslan says, but I’m already there, turning the handle.
I expect the door to be locked, but it opens easily, revealing a small lounge with shabby furniture. On the wall to my right is a small, empty reception desk and a set of doors that likely lead out to the main street. To my left, in the far corner, is a spiral staircase.
Valery is already heading over to the stairs, but I beat him there. Anticipation hums in my veins as I take the stairs three at a time.
I can all but feel her nearby, can sense her nearness in some uncanny way.
Clearing the stairs, I end up in a narrow hallway with three doors.
I push one open.
It’s a bathroom.
The second door reveals a row of showers.
Holding my breath, I approach the third.
As I reach for the handle, a sound reaches my ears.
A low, muffled female sob.
Everything inside me turns to ice even as adrenaline explodes in my veins.
My gun is already in my hand as I kick open the door—and freeze, stunned by the bloody scene before me.
Chapter 7
Alina
My first instinct is to scream. But I don’t. Nobody would hear me, and though I’ve never had an opportunity to use my self-defense training, I remember what Pavel taught me.
Grabbing the glass of water I was reaching for, I throw myself off the bed on the opposite side of where the unknown man is standing.
It must hurt when my hip and shoulder hit the floor, but I don’t feel it. Just as I don’t feel the dizziness and the nausea that have been my constant companions of late. The adrenaline surging through me is like an infusion of espresso directly into my veins. My mind is crystal clear as I keep rolling, the glass clutched firmly in my hand. Behind me, I hear the intruder utter a vile French curse before his heavy footsteps round the bed.