Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
She hesitates—just for a second—and then she’s gone, her footsteps fading down what must be some auxiliary corridor or service passage.
I slip the hood back on, sitting exactly as they left me, zip ties still tight on my wrists. The relief I feel knowing Moira’s free is almost dizzying. One less complication. One less innocent caught in the crossfire of my fucked-up life.
The door bangs open, heavy footsteps crossing the floor.
“Where is she?” Pavel’s voice is sharp, dangerous.
I lift my head, feigning confusion. “Wha—who?”
He rips the hood off my head, and I blink against the sudden light, disoriented. The room is even more grimy than I imagined—concrete walls with water stains, a single bulb swinging overhead, casting long shadows that dance across the floor. Pavel looms above me, his face contorted with rage.
“Don’t play games with me, pcholka. Where is the Callaghan girl?”
I stare at him, letting my face show genuine confusion. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I just woke up.” I shake my head dramatically, letting my eyes roll slightly. “What the fuck did you dose me with, anyways? Ketamine? PCP? My brain feels like scrambled eggs.”
His hand cracks across my face, the blow hard enough to snap my head to the side. I taste blood, copper, and salt as my lip splits against my teeth. The pain is clarifying, a bright burst of sensation that cuts through the fog of fear and adrenaline.
“You think I’m stupid?” he hisses, grabbing my chin, fingers digging into my jaw hard enough to bruise. His breath reeks of cigarettes and stale coffee. “You think I can’t tell when a bitch is lying to me?”
I spit blood, meeting his eyes with as much defiance as I can muster. “I think you’re a sadistic asshole who kidnapped us unnecessarily.” I jerk my chin toward the door. “I already convinced her to break up with Bane before your goons grabbed us. This was overkill.”
His eyes narrow, studying me for tells. I make sure he finds none. I’ve been lying to monsters far more dangerous than Pavel since I was a child. He’s not special.
“You better have,” he says finally, voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “For your sake and for his.” He doesn’t need to specify which ‘his’ he means. The threat to Domhnall hangs in the air between us, unspoken but crystal clear.
I feel the familiar iciness settle in my veins. The cold, calculating part of me that has kept me alive all these years. “I have it handled,” I say, my voice steady. “Your boss can rest easy.”
Something flickers in Pavel’s eyes—surprise, maybe, at my mention of his employer. Good. Let him wonder what else I know.
Two of his men haul me to my feet, the zip ties biting into my wrists as they drag me toward the door. The room sways slightly; whatever they drugged us with hasn’t fully worn off. I stumble, partly for show, partly because my legs aren’t quite cooperating. It’s always better to appear weaker than one actually is.
“Where are we going?” I demand, trying to commit our surroundings to memory as they pull me through a narrow hallway. It’s an industrial space, probably abandoned years ago. Metal stairs. Heavy fire doors. There are three men stationed at various points with automatic weapons.
Pavel doesn’t answer, just nods to his men. “Bring her. The boss wants to talk.”
A chill runs down my spine. The boss wants to talk. That’s new. Pavel’s always been a go-between, a middleman, an errand boy for bigger fish. I’ve never met whoever pulls his strings. Never even known who they are.
But whoever it is… fuck, have they taken over my father’s operation? The Librarian might be dead—I made damn sure of that—but has someone slipped into the void he left behind? It always happens in a power vacuum.
As they drag me up a flight of stairs, I’m already cataloging every detail—the layout, the number of guards, potential escape routes, improvised weapons. The old instincts kick in, the training my father drilled into me from childhood. Always know your surroundings. Always have an exit strategy. Always be ready to kill or be killed.
“This place is compromised,” Pavel barks at his men as we reach the top of the stairs. “Security perimeter’s been breached. Load everything into the vans and get ready to move out. Five minutes.”
The men nod, already moving with practiced efficiency.
“You fucked up, pcholka,” Pavel whispers, his mouth close to my ear as he shoves me forward. “The boss doesn’t like loose ends. And your little girlfriend running off? That’s a very loose end.”
I keep my face blank. “She’s not my girlfriend. And she’s not coming back.”
He smirks, the expression ugly on his scarred face. “We’ll see about that. Love makes people stupid.”
“Love has nothing to do with it,” I spit back. “She’ll be too busy following orders—breaking up with the priest and disappearing. That was our deal, wasn’t it?”